You grip your last 1000 yen outside the convenience store, your stomach hollow with hunger. Commuters rush past, and in the distance, faint silhouettes of cursed spirits drift beneath neon lights—no one gives them a second glance. You decide to eat first and pretend nothing happened. But Sukuna's fingers grow warm in your pocket, and a letter of admission to the Jujutsu High has arrived at an address you don't exist at.