Seiji Fujiwara merely extended one hand with casual ease, effortlessly catching both her wrists and pinning her down against the bed.
"Let go of me! You lying scumbag!" Eriri thrashed wildly beneath him, but the vast difference in strength between men and women rendered all her struggles futile.
"When did I lie?" Seiji regarded her clawing, tooth-baring display with amusement. "I only said the 'deposit' was paid. I never said the transaction was over."
"What do you mean?" Eriri froze, ceasing her struggles.
"Simple. That villa, at market rate, rents for 1.8 million yen per month."
"Of course, you don't need to pay that much money."
"You can pay another way—"
"Each time you let me get intimate with you, like just now, or... going even deeper, that cancels out three days of rent."
"One month, just ten times. You can sleep soundly without worry. Pretty profitable, don't you think?"
BOOM—!!!
That statement shattered Eriri's sanity.
Once was already humiliating enough, and now he wanted ten times a month?
"In your dreams! I'll kill you! I'll kill you!!!"
She struggled even more violently, even opening her mouth to try biting Seiji's arm.
"Eriri, don't say foolish things." Seiji tightened his grip, rendering her immobile. "Or pay me 1.8 million right now. Can't do it? No? Then accept my 'kindness.'"
"1.8 million..."
That number was like a bucket of ice water poured over her head, instantly extinguishing all of Eriri's fury.
Her struggles gradually ceased.
She went limp on the bed, no longer moving, staring blankly at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, her eyes growing increasingly hollow.
She realized.
From now on, her body would no longer belong to herself.
...
Over the following days.
Eriri avoided Seiji at every turn.
However, on her phone calendar, she had circled three dates in red marker.
Those were her "rent payment days."
Soon, three days passed, and the first payment day arrived.
The moment the final bell rang, Eriri's heart began pounding uncontrollably.
She fled, hastily packing her bag, rejecting all invitations from classmates, hurrying home to the villa with rushed steps.
Sitting in her room at the villa.
Eriri was restless, like a prisoner awaiting judgment.
One moment she picked up her brush, unable to draw a single line; the next she ran to the window, anxiously watching the front gate of the courtyard.
At five o'clock sharp, the doorbell rang punctually.
The "ding-dong" made Eriri's body jerk violently.
She knew—Seiji Fujiwara had arrived.
Eriri took a deep breath, mustering all her strength to suppress the impulse to turn and run.
She walked to the entrance and opened the door.
Outside, Seiji stood leisurely, still wearing his Toyonosaki uniform, even carrying a convenience store bag in his hand containing what appeared to be freshly purchased drinks.
Seeing Eriri, Seiji's face displayed an utterly ordinary smile.
"I'm here, Eriri. To collect the 'rent.'"
His tone was as casual as if saying "I came to borrow a book from your house," but the content of his words was filled with malice toward the young girl.
Eriri's expression instantly tightened. She glared at Seiji, then stepped aside to let him enter.
"Let's go to your studio." Seiji unsurprisingly changed into slippers and headed straight for the studio. "I've always been curious about the environment where the legendary 'Eri Kashiwagi' sensei creates."
Eriri's fists clenched instantly.
The studio... he actually wanted to go to her studio!
That was her workspace!
"No!" The refusal burst from her lips almost involuntarily.
Seiji stopped and turned back, looking at her with amusement. "Why not? As your 'landlord,' shouldn't I have the right to inspect every corner of my property?"
"Besides..." He paused, the smile at his lips becoming meaningful. "Or would you prefer the living room? Or your bedroom? I'm fine with either. The choice is yours."
That familiar, demonic phrase echoed once more.
Eriri's body went rigid.
Living room... bedroom... studio...
None of those places were good.
Compared to the living room and bedroom filled with the atmosphere of daily life, perhaps in this studio filled with "work" ambiance, she could better numb herself, tell herself this was merely a transaction?
Gritting her teeth, she ultimately chose to compromise.
"...Whatever."
Squeezing out two words through clenched teeth, Eriri entered the studio first.
Seiji followed with a smile.
Inside the studio, the evening sun's afterglow streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing everything in a warm golden hue.
Seiji surveyed the room with interest, his gaze sweeping from the professional art supplies to the practice pieces hanging on the walls, finally settling on the blonde girl in the center of the studio who radiated the essence of an artist.
"Well then, let's begin." He casually set the convenience store bag on a chair and walked toward her. "How are you prepared to pay today's 'rent'?"
Eriri watched him approach, her body involuntarily retreating until her back pressed against the cold wall, with nowhere left to run.
She raised her head, her azure eyes filled with erupting fury. "I just want to beat the hell out of you, you bastard!"
"Cursing doesn't cancel the rent, Eriri." Seiji chuckled softly, extending both hands to press against the wall on either side of her body, completely enveloping her in his shadow.
Then he leaned down and precisely kissed her lips.
"Mmph...!"
Eriri's pupils contracted sharply.
She wanted to resist, wanted to struggle, but her hands were effortlessly caught by Seiji and pinned behind her back.
Seiji's other hand supported the back of Eriri's neck, leaving the girl no room even to turn her head away.
What followed were kisses filled with aggression and possessiveness.
Seiji's kissing technique, like his talent for writing novels, had reached a terrifying level.
Skillfully prying open her teeth, he began his conquest, leaving not a sliver of breathing room.
Eriri was a "theoretical master"—she had drawn countless kissing scenes, from innocent, tentative touches to passionate French kisses. She could even judge a character's emotional stage from the angle, intensity, and way tongues intertwined.
And at this moment, she could clearly determine that what Seiji was using on her were the "advanced techniques" from her own doujinshi—the kind that could instantly make any woman's legs go weak and lose herself in passion.
Realizing this, she couldn't help but feel shame and panic.
Her "professional knowledge" had, in this moment, become a measuring stick for analyzing how she was being violated.
Damn it!
I have to find a chance to beat the hell out of this bastard!
Eriri's heart burned with hatred.
Though she kept her body tense, unwilling to let Seiji easily conquer her.
But unfortunately, her body was weak, and Seiji's technique was masterful.
So quickly, that powerless, tingling sensation rose again from her spine, making her body soften all over, barely able to stand.
Just as she was about to suffocate, Seiji finally released her.
Eriri gasped for breath, her cheeks flushed, physiological tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She leaned against the wall, barely managing not to slide to the floor.
"Seems your body is much more honest than your mouth." Seiji observed her dazed appearance and commented casually.
His hands began wandering restlessly over her body.
He was like someone playing a precision instrument, knowing exactly where each note was, knowing how to pluck them to produce the most beautiful melody.
Eriri bit her lip, enduring desperately, refusing to let herself make any shameful sounds.
But her body kept betraying her.
She could feel her body temperature rising, her breathing becoming rapid, an unprecedented sense of powerlessness rising from the depths of her heart, rapidly spreading through her limbs.
"Bastard... Seiji Fujiwara... you demon..." She cursed frantically in her mind.
She knew what he wanted to do.
He was deliberately teasing her, destroying her will, enjoying the entire process of her resistance crumbling into submission.
Like a cruel animal trainer, using the most exquisite methods to grind away all her claws and fangs bit by bit.
He gave her no room to think or resist, lifting her with undeniable force and firmly confining her in his embrace. That intensely aggressive masculine aura completely surrounded her, stripping away her last bit of strength to resist.
Eriri felt her consciousness being dragged into a bottomless whirlpool.
"No... don't..."
She murmured unconsciously, but her voice was so faint she could barely hear it herself.
A long while passed.
When everything returned to calm, Eriri finally opened her eyes in a daze.
"Today's rent is collected." Seiji's voice sounded calmly by her ear. "Good performance, Eriri. You can rest for three days now."
With that, he released her, turned and left the studio, as if the intense intimacy just moments ago was nothing more than an insignificant pastime for him.
Eriri, alone, slumped against the wall.
She watched Seiji's departing back, and after a long time, finally found her voice.
Roaring at his back:
"Get lost!"
The response was Seiji waving his hand without looking back, and the sound of the villa's front door closing.
Eriri finally couldn't hold herself up anymore, slowly sliding down the wall to sit on the cold floor.
She buried her face deep into her knees, feeling only intense shame and humiliation.
Damn it!
How long would these days have to continue?
...
Meanwhile, on the road leaving the Sawamura family villa.
In Seiji Fujiwara's mind, three cold, mechanically synthesized voices rang out.
[Ding! Detected first-stage conquest target 'Eriri Spencer Sawamura,' intimacy accumulation threshold reached...]
[Stage reward unlocked: R18 Doujinshi Drawing Skill Package.]
[Reward Description: This skill package contains transcendent, pinnacle-level R18 doujinshi drawing techniques, experience, and creative intuition. Including but not limited to: god-tier human body structure and dynamic perspective, extreme rendering of light and shadow atmosphere, capture of emotional and desire-filled expressions, maximization of paneling language tension...]
[Reward being distributed... Distribution complete.]
A massive flood of information surged into Seiji Fujiwara's mind.
Countless lines, light and shadow, colors, compositions flashed and recombined rapidly through his consciousness.
Those complex human body structures, at this moment, became as simple and clear as 1+1=2 in his eyes.
The techniques that top-tier artists needed tens of thousands of hours to master had, in this instant, completely fused into his blood, becoming his instinct.
He subconsciously raised his right hand, opened it, then clenched it tight.
He could feel that this hand was no longer just a hand for writing.
It seemed to possess an independent soul, craving a brush, craving to create on paper the ultimate eroticism capable of igniting all desire.
"Interesting."
The corners of Seiji Fujiwara's mouth curved into an intrigued smile.
...
From that day forward, Eriri's "rent payment" routine became a fixed yet cruel cycle.
Every three days, Seiji would arrive punctually.
He would use various different methods to kiss her, touch her, using the most skilled techniques to push her repeatedly to the edge of collapse.
And Eriri progressed from initial fierce resistance, to later numb endurance, to now...
She didn't even dare deeply examine the changes in her heart.
She only knew that her body had become increasingly sensitive, increasingly prone to shameful reactions under his teasing.
She also knew that the anger in her heart had, unknowingly, been quietly diluted by something more complex and more terrifying.
Eriri felt herself sinking, and it frightened her.
In the blink of an eye, the humiliating "lease" had continued for over a month.
Beneath the seemingly peaceful campus routine, Eriri's life had long been completely twisted by Seiji Fujiwara into a distorted cycle.
She was like a domesticated canary, trapped in the magnificent cage called the "Sawamura family villa."
Every three days, Seiji would arrive punctually, taking excessive liberties with her body under the pretext of "collecting rent."
Changes were occurring in Eriri's heart that even she was unwilling to acknowledge.
She was still angry, still hated Seiji Fujiwara's shamelessness.
But beneath that hatred, a more complex, more dangerous emotion was growing.
Eriri discovered that she was beginning to grow accustomed to Seiji's presence, accustomed to the fresh shower gel scent on his body, accustomed to his aggressive kisses, and even...
She pitifully discovered that her body had begun to faintly anticipate being teased.
This realization terrified her.
She knew she couldn't continue like this.
Otherwise, someday she would fall completely, becoming nothing more than a pet in Seiji Fujiwara's hands, knowing only how to beg for favor.
She had to find a way out, a way to escape Seiji Fujiwara!
And for her, the only way out was her brush.
With such intense determination, Eriri poured all her energy into commercial illustration work.
Through her connections at Fushikawa Bunko, she took on a well-paid commission for light novel cover art and illustrations.
Whenever she had free time, Eriri would lock herself in the studio, forgetting to eat and sleep, pouring all the humiliation, unwillingness, and anger accumulated over more than a month into her brush.
...
That afternoon, in a conference room at Fushikawa Bunko.
Eriri sat upright, her hands nervously placed on her knees.
Sitting across from her was Fushikawa Bunko's chief editor, Sonoko Machida.
"Sawamura-san," Machida gently placed the several exquisite illustration drafts on the table, her face wearing a smile. "Your drawing skills are, as always, astonishing. Whether in terms of composition, color, or human body structure, everything is excellent."
Hearing this praise, Eriri's heart relaxed slightly, and the corners of her mouth involuntarily turned upward.
My talent is unquestionable!
She thought to herself.
However, Machida's next words instantly plunged her into an icy abyss.
"But..." Machida's tone shifted, with regret in her voice. "But I'm very sorry, Sawamura-san. The original author is unwilling to adopt your work, and as the editor, I also hold a negative opinion."
"Wh... why?!" The smile on Eriri's face instantly froze, and she looked at the other woman in disbelief.
Machida picked up one of the cover illustrations depicting the heroine smiling, pointed at the girl in the image who smiled perfectly yet emptily, and shook her head.
"Because your drawings have no 'soul.'"
"Your technique is excellent, but your characters are like exquisite dolls. Their joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness are all just superficial symbols, very stiff."
"Sawamura-san... forgive my bluntness, but I feel you're doing something you're not good at. There's a rigid, uncomfortable feeling to it."