Inside the room.
"Good."
Seiji Fujiwara switched off the camera with a satisfied look, his eyes drifting to the girl kneeling before him. Utaha Kasumigaoka's long black hair hung in messy strands, veiling most of her face. Only her pale jawline and delicate collarbones peeked through.
Her chest, far too developed for a high schooler, was shielded by her trembling hands. But the shape was still impossible to hide.
Shivering from both shame and the cold, she looked like a lamb cornered by a wolf—fragile, uneasy, and unbearably tempting.
Seiji took his time admiring the view before picking up the contract from the floor. "Well done. I'll pay you the rest now," he said casually. "Do you want it in cash or a transfer?"
He made it sound like he was discussing business.
Utaha recoiled, arms squeezing tighter around herself, her body curling up like a startled fawn.
Did he really have to talk like that?
Her face burned with humiliation, her voice trembling in a whisper so faint it barely carried. "C-Can I… put my clothes back on first?"
That hint of pleading betrayed the fact that, after what had just been recorded, her pride lay shattered at his feet. She couldn't even muster a strong tone anymore.
"What's the rush?"
His eyes roamed shamelessly across her bare skin. He smiled. "You'll be in this situation plenty of times over the next six months. Better to get used to it now—for both our sakes."
Her breath hitched.
Right. The contract bound her for half a year. It was filled with terms that spoke of training, torment, and play. Compared to those clauses, this moment was nothing. Just an appetizer.
With a heavy sigh, she gave up on dressing and remained kneeling, exposed before him.
But she couldn't completely let go. She kept her arms tight across her chest, legs pressed firmly together, clinging to whatever small defenses she could.
"Tomorrow, you'll move out of here and straight into my new apartment in Minato Ward," Seiji said, still savoring the sight.
"What?"
Her head snapped up like she'd been struck by lightning.
"Live… together? No! Absolutely not!"
Panic flared in her voice as she quickly shook her head.
If it was just scheduled encounters, she could endure it. Survive half a year and it would be over.
But living together meant twenty-four hours under his control. Like a pet on a leash, caged without escape.
Her outburst darkened Seiji's eyes.
"No?"
A sharp laugh slipped from his lips. "Utaha-senpai, let me break this down for you."
His tone was calm, almost soft, yet every word slithered into her ears like a devil's whisper.
"Our arrangement lasts six months. I'll be covering your mother's surgery—three million yen—plus everything else. Call it three-point-six million in total."
"Six months. One hundred and eighty days."
"Which means I'm spending twenty thousand yen a day on you."
Utaha's whole body jolted. She bit her lip hard and lowered her gaze, unable to look at him.
Twenty thousand yen a day. That was six hundred thousand a month. Her late father, even as a mid-level company manager, had earned about the same.
Would anyone spend that kind of money for just the occasional meeting? Of course not.
Being kept wasn't about visits. It was about owning her life.
"You really think I'd pay all that and give you the freedom to 'not live with me'?" Seiji sneered.
"I'm buying the right to enjoy you anytime, anywhere I please. Got it?"
"…Yes."
The answer slipped from her lips, bitter as poison.
Her future unfolded before her eyes—half a year of darkness. Endless domination. Constant violation. No freedom. No dignity.
Only when he saw the fight fade from her eyes did Seiji rise to his feet, satisfied.
He pulled over a chair and sat right in front of her, eyes fixed on her trembling lips.
"Now then. As a reward for behaving tonight… let's call this your first lesson in adapting to your new role."
Utaha froze, realizing what he meant.
No. Not that…
"I… I can't… I can't do that…" she whispered, her voice shaking.
"This is your mother's life on the line."
Seiji dropped the rest of the money in front of her. The bills scattered at her knees.
"Do it well, and I'll transfer the funds to the hospital tonight. Do it poorly…"
He chuckled lightly.
"Then we're done here. The rest, you'll have to figure out on your own."
Utaha's shoulders slumped. The fight drained out of her. She had no choice.
…
…
Outside the door, Ms. Sato had been waiting a long time.
Just as she was about to give up, the door suddenly opened.
Startled, she ducked into the stairwell corner like a thief, peeking out only a little.
Thud, thud, thud!
Utaha stumbled out of the room.
She looked worse than before—face white as a sheet, eyes empty, like her soul had been stolen.
Most unsettling of all, she kept her hands clamped over her mouth, as though holding something back, her body shuddering with faint dry heaves.
Her uniform, once neat, was now in disarray.
Bang!
She didn't notice Ms. Sato at all. She ran into her own apartment and slammed the door shut.
In the stairwell, Ms. Sato's heart pounded.
That face… those clothes…
Could it really be what I'm thinking?
Had the boy gone that far already?
The thought made her cheeks burn.
At that moment, Seiji stepped out.
His face glowed with the satisfaction of exertion, like a man fresh from a workout.
And when he spotted the building manager peeking from the corner, not even a flicker of surprise crossed his face.
"Ms. Sato, out so late? Something the matter?" His voice was warm, polite, as if nothing at all had happened.
"N-No, nothing!" she stammered, caught red-handed, her cheeks flushing. She forced a laugh. "I just came up to… uh… check if the hallway light was broken, yes, the light!"
But her eyes kept darting between him and his room.
Almost unconsciously, she sniffed the air, trying to catch a trace of… something.
But there was nothing. Just the musty, damp odor of the old building.
Seiji caught every twitch of hers and laughed inwardly.
Not a drop wasted. Utaha had swallowed it all.
How could there possibly be a trace left behind?