In the cold stall of the company restroom, Aina Saiten leaned against the frosted glass partition, her fingertips pale from gripping too tightly.
The LED lamp above buzzed softly, casting a bluish-gray glow over the tiled floor, while the air was thick with a sharp mix of disinfectant and fragrance.
She wore earphones, and the entire world shrank to the suffocating scene on her phone screen—the silent surveillance footage of the Kawasaki Family Izakaya tearing at her heart.
From the angle, the video seemed to have been recorded by an internal surveillance camera, bearing the typical grayscale distortion of such footage.
Strangely, only Kaoru Hoshitani and that unfamiliar woman moved under the warm yellow light of the izakaya; other staff and customers seemed to have been erased by an invisible hand.
Ceramic sake flasks were scattered untidily across the wooden bar counter, while the leftover food in the sake cups gleamed oily at the edges of the frame.
For some reason, no other figures besides Kaoru and the blonde woman appeared anywhere in the footage.
In the shot, Kaoru knelt on the tatami floor, the collar of his navy blue kimono already disheveled, the silk sash hanging loosely around his waist, and the left side of the garment slipped down to his elbow, revealing a large expanse of smooth, jade-like shoulder and neck.
His alluring collarbone rose and fell beneath the scent of sweat with each breath, the hem of the kimono curled in folds against his legs.
The blonde woman wore a sports tank top, her wheat-colored skin glistening with an inexplicable sheen from the sweat on its surface.
There was no doubt that men are visual creatures.
That’s why, in nature, female feathers or fur tend to be more vivid and beautiful—a result of long-term natural selection where females evolved these traits to attract males for reproduction.
Conversely, for males, the most strikingly beautiful females trigger deep, genetically embedded reproductive impulses.
Even human males are said to experience this so-called “physiological attraction.”
For Kaoru, kneeling there with his knees pressed tightly against his calves, the curves traced by the light on his body were enough to awaken his primal instincts when faced with the woman before him.
His jet-black, fragrant hair was mercilessly grabbed in a fist by the blonde woman’s hand.
She pulled his face up by his hair, and his once-clear, gem-like eyes now shimmered with a hazy, ambiguous glint.
As her wheat-colored fingers tangled deeper into his hair, Kaoru’s thick eyelashes trembled violently.
Strands of sweat-soaked black hair clung to his temples, the ends brushing against the reddened corners of his eyes.
When he tilted his head back, his neck stretched out in a fragile curve, his Adam’s apple moving rapidly beneath the skin.
“Uh…”
Kaoru’s moan was distorted by the static in his earphones.
His dazed pupils reflected the woman’s waist, then traveled upward—an overwhelming visual assault.
First, her flat yet taut abdomen, covered by a thin layer of skin that subtly revealed the toned muscles beneath, radiated a healthy sheen that made him imagine the resilient elasticity of her body.
The mermaid lines on her side were like carefully sculpted shadows, extending from the outer edge of her abs downwards and inward, disappearing beneath the waistband of her shorts.
Moving higher, it was as if he’d shifted from a plain to towering peaks—the proud, pear-shaped curves far surpassing the average for neon-lit city women, casting his flushed, beautiful face into shadow.
What was even more overwhelming was that the woman had just left the gym, and her sweat-soaked sports tank top and shorts clung to her body.
Kaoru’s cute nose, nearly kneeling on the ground, was now less than twenty centimeters from the source of the strongest scent.
He could feel every breath he took as wet and hot, carrying an acidic stench that should have been unpleasant, assaulting his sensitive olfactory system.
Yet, the high concentration of female hormones hidden within strangely triggered a chilling sweetness that made Kaoru breathe faster and take in more.
At this moment, Kaoru felt his brain turning into mush, barely able to think, as his instincts took over.
Every cell screamed that the woman before him was a powerful female—the perfect mate.
[So… so strong…]
Kaoru’s entire body went limp, powerless to resist; it was only by the woman’s grip on his hair that his upper body was lifted.
The blonde woman looked at the man, whose pure face was smeared with snot and saliva, and a smirk curled her lips, mocking him.
“Do you know how horny you are right now?”
She asked, her tone playful.
“N-no… it’s not like that…”
Kaoru could clearly feel her condescending gaze.
It was like…
Like looking at a piece of rotten meat…
At that thought, his unfocused pupils suddenly contracted, drool uncontrollably leaking from the corner of his mouth, forming thin silver threads down his chin.
His hand, trying to close his kimono, was stepped on by her shoe, his nails instantly losing color.
“Alright, being covered in sweat is really uncomfortable. You know what to do, my… Kaoru’s Slave.”
“Y-yes… Master…”
The moment the word “Kaoru’s Slave” exploded in his earphones, Aina Saiten suddenly raised a hand to cover her mouth.
Her phone screen reflected her wide eyes, pupils mirroring Kaoru’s slow bowing—the trembling shape of his spine visible beneath the kimono, like a puppet controlled by invisible strings.
Outside the stall, colleagues’ laughter and chatter suddenly echoed, the empty pump sound of hand soap blending cruelly with the heavy breaths from the video.
The footage abruptly switched, showing the izakaya’s window glass reflecting the neon signs of the late-night street.
Red and blue lights flickered across Kaoru’s sweat-drenched profile; the blue veins pulsing on his neck as he swallowed looked like trapped lightning beneath his skin.
The edge of the woman’s sports shorts revealed a tattoo on her waist—a pattern of thorns and roses intertwined, rising and falling with her breath like a living thing, wrapping around the young man’s trembling gaze.
Aina’s fingernails scraped white marks into the stall door.
She watched her beloved boyfriend’s toes curl under the fabric of his clothing, the tips turning pale blue from strain; she saw strands of hair slipping through the woman’s fingers like broken raven feathers; and she saw the moment his kimono back flared open as he finally prostrated himself, the hollow of his waist illuminated by two flickering lights like cups of bitter wine ready to spill.
When the video finally faded to black, the chill from the tiled wall seeped through Aina’s shirt and into her spine.
She curled into the corner of the stall, the static in her earphones continuing as if she could hear the crisp crackle of tears evaporating from her eyes.
In the last reflection before her phone’s screen locked, her lips involuntarily curled into the same cruel arc as the woman’s on the video.
[Kaoru… this is all a lie… you didn’t become like this… right?]