Rebirth In The Days When Curse Gao Was The Boss Chapter 45

The establishment of a new order was far from instantaneous. Although Gojo Satoru had used thunderous methods to clear the main obstacles, the subsequent minutiae—balancing various interests, implementing and refining new regulations, and the occasional covert obstruction from remnants of the old guard—all transformed into mountains of documents, endless meetings, and perpetual bureaucratic wrangling that threatened to drown him like a tide.

For the first few days, Gojo Satoru, fueled by novelty and powerful execution, handled everything with ease, even finding it more challenging than exorcising a Special Grade Curse. He issued orders decisively, debated fiercely with the old fogeys (mostly those who had been dragged in but still clung to outdated notions), and forcefully pushed through new rules and systems.

But soon, this life of being confined to an office day after day, dealing with countless trivial matters and schemes, began to erode his already limited patience. He was Gojo Satoru, the “Strongest” born to stand above the clouds and act on impulse, not a workaholic chained to a desk!

“Satoru, we need your ruling on the resource allocation objection raised by Kyoto Jujutsu High.”

“Gojo-sama, the draft proposal for training newly recruited civilian sorcerers is on your desk.”

“Director… er, Gojo-san, representatives of the conservative faction hope to consult with you again regarding the ‘Task Risk Rating Standard’…”

“Satoru! Document No. 7 you signed yesterday, concerning the management of Cursed Tools, conflicts with the existing sealing regulations. It requires urgent revision!”

Principal Yaga’s voice, the voices of clan elders, the voices of new civilian representatives… various sounds buzzed in his ears, and before him lay an endless stream of reports and proposals. Even his favorite sweets tasted bland, tinged with the flavor of ink and paper.

The smile on Gojo Satoru’s face grew rarer, and the irritation behind his sunglasses was almost palpable. He started zoning out in meetings, was caught using Lapse: Blue to instantly teleport out to buy sweets, and even briefly considered using Hollow Technique: Purple to annihilate the entire office along with those bothersome documents.

Late one night, when he was woken from a light sleep for the Nth time by an emergency communication regarding the “Detailed Rules for Assistant Supervisors’ Overtime Pay,” and Xue Yang in his arms frowned in annoyance at the disturbance, Gojo Satoru’s patience finally declared itself completely exhausted.

He bolted upright, ran a hand through his messy white hair, his eyes flashing with dangerous light.

“Enough!” he growled, startling the groggy Xue Yang beside him.

“What are you doing?” Xue Yang rubbed his eyes, grumbling discontentedly.

Gojo Satoru turned his head, looking at Xue Yang’s sleeping face, which appeared especially soft and harmless in the moonlight, then looked at the vibrating phone on the bedside table, a symbol of endless trouble. A crazy idea began to sprout.

He snatched the phone, turned it off immediately, then flipped out of bed and began quickly packing—mostly stuffing various flavors of sweets and video game cartridges into a huge bag.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Xue Yang sat up, looking at him confusedly.

Gojo Satoru didn’t lift his head, his tone decisive: “Strike! Running away!”

“Huh?”

Ten minutes later, Gojo Satoru, one hand holding the bag stuffed with snacks and games, the other pulling the still-sleepy Xue Yang, who was wearing only pajamas, used Lapse: Blue to instantly teleport out of Jujutsu High and into the living room of his large penthouse apartment downtown in Tokyo.

“Starting today, I’m on vacation!” Gojo Satoru tossed the bag onto the floor, stretched widely, and flashed a long-lost, carefree smile, like someone who had escaped a cage. “Don’t even think about finding me if the sky falls!”

Xue Yang watched his relieved expression, then looked at the familiar, quiet space, blinked, and finally understood the situation. A subtle curve appeared at the corner of his mouth, but he said dismissively, “You just dumped this mess on Principal Yaga?”

“The capable should work harder!” Gojo Satoru felt no guilt whatsoever. He grinned and leaned in, hugging Xue Yang tightly, burying his face in his neck and inhaling deeply, sighing contentedly. “My Xue Yang still smells the best… the musty smell of those old guys was starting to pickle me.”

Xue Yang was tickled by the rubbing and pushed his head away, but failing to dislodge him, he let him be. “So, your so-called ‘vacation’ is hiding here?”

“Wrong!” Gojo Satoru lifted his head, his eyes sparkling like a big child who had found a fun new toy. “It’s ‘fooling around’! Specifically fooling around with you!”

For the next few days, this luxury apartment became an isolated Eden.

Gojo Satoru cut off all external contact, completely casting aside work and worries. He and Xue Yang lived a life of inverted schedules, indulgence, and ease.

During the day, they might be wrapped in the same blanket, curled up on the huge sofa, playing video games online until they lost track of time, surrounded by piles of empty snack wrappers and drink cans. Gojo Satoru would use his quick reflexes to bully Xue Yang, and when Xue Yang lost, he would retaliate with martial arts, his face dark. Their gaming PKs often devolved into wrestling matches in the living room, usually ending in some unspeakable form of “reconciliation.”

Alternatively, Gojo Satoru might have a sudden whim to try making “Wife’s Bento” according to a dessert recipe (though he called it the “Feeding the Little Beast Project”). The result was usually a chaotic kitchen, and the food he made was so bad even Xue Yang refused to touch it, forcing them to sheepishly order takeout.

In the evenings, they would sit by the floor-to-ceiling windows, sharing Gojo Satoru’s prized top-tier sweets while looking down at the glittering Tokyo nightscape. Sometimes they would chat about meaningless nonsense, or simply say nothing at all, just leaning quietly against each other.

Of course, more time was spent on the overly spacious bed. Freed from the environment of Jujutsu High and potential interruptions, Gojo Satoru seemed to have shed all restraints, finding various ways to entangle himself with Xue Yang. And Xue Yang, after the initial embarrassment and resistance, gradually succumbed to this extreme intimacy and indulgence. Sweat, gasps, and moans intertwined, and the air was perpetually filled with the sweet scent of desire and desserts.

Xue Yang found that Gojo Satoru, relieved of the burden of being the “Strongest” and the “Reformer,” became more genuine, even somewhat childish and clingy. He would pout if Xue Yang snatched the last piece of cake he wanted, would refuse to get out of bed, hugging Xue Yang tightly, and would flop onto Xue Yang’s lap like a large dog, demanding to be petted when a movie reached a boring part.

This state of complete relaxation, focusing only on each other, was something Xue Yang had never experienced. He felt like dry land, gradually being permeated and filled by Gojo Satoru’s almost tyrannical tenderness and companionship.

A few days later, when Principal Yaga finally managed to send a document marked “Extremely Urgent” to the apartment door through a special Gojo Clan channel, it was Xue Yang who opened it.

Xue Yang was wearing only a large shirt that clearly belonged to Gojo Satoru, his collarbone and neck covered in suggestive marks. He accepted the document expressionlessly, threw it directly into the trash can by the door without looking, and slammed the door shut with a bang.

From inside, Gojo Satoru’s lazy voice drifted out: “Who was it?”

Xue Yang walked back, nestled into the sofa again, squeezing into Gojo Satoru’s embrace, and yawned. “A misdelivered package.”

Gojo Satoru smiled knowingly, lowering his head to kiss the top of his hair. “Well done.”

When Principal Yaga heard his subordinate report that “Mr. Xue Yang threw the document into the trash can,” he was silent for a long time, eventually letting out a deep, helpless sigh.

He knew that Gojo Satoru was determined to be a hands-off manager this time. So be it. The hardest part was over anyway; as for the rest… let the “old fogeys” worry a little more.

Inside the apartment, the brief “vacation” continued. For Gojo Satoru and Xue Yang, the turmoil of the outside world seemed distant. This small world, belonging only to the two of them, was the real and warm sanctuary. As for the abandoned work and responsibilities? They would deal with them after they were done “fooling around”!