“Aina? Aina?! Are you in there?”
In the cold, tiled corner of the restroom stall, Aina Saiten curled up with her back against the partition, her eyes unfocused as they stared into nothingness.
Her lips moved silently, repeatedly murmuring fragmented syllables.
Knock knock knock
The door to the stall was gently tapped, and outside came the familiar voice of the Supervisor, laced with clear concern.
It turned out that after the lunch break bell rang, colleagues had gradually returned to their desks to resume work, but Aina still hadn’t appeared.
The Supervisor noticed her empty seat and waited a moment, but she still didn’t show up.
Worried that this usually punctual junior might be unwell or in trouble, the Supervisor came to check.
“I’m in here…”
Hearing the Supervisor’s voice, Aina seemed to be forcibly woken from a nightmare.
She struggled to move her limbs, which had begun to go numb, and pressed her palm against the icy, bone-chilling tile wall to support her weak and limp body, swaying as she slowly stood.
Hearing Aina’s voice from inside, the Supervisor didn’t feel reassured at all; after all, no matter how she listened, Aina’s voice didn’t sound like everything was okay.
“Aina, what’s wrong? Is it—”
Before the question was finished, the lock clicked open from inside.
Aina lowered her head and staggered out.
When the Supervisor saw Aina’s current state clearly, they gasped sharply, their face full of shock and worry.
Aina’s once fairly rosy cheeks were now pale as if she had been pulled straight from a sack of flour, utterly bloodless, her lips losing all their color and slightly tinted a ghostly blue-white.
What was most horrifying were her eyes—swollen red like two walnuts, bloodshot sclerae, and filled with a mixture of overwhelming shock, pain, and a despair teetering on the edge of collapse.
Just an hour ago, she had looked fine. How could she suddenly be like this…
“Aina, should I call an ambulance? You really don’t look well right now.”
The Supervisor took a step forward and instinctively steadied Aina’s trembling arm, voice filled with urgency.
“No, it’s okay, Supervisor. I’m fine.”
Of course, Aina knew there was nothing physically wrong with her.
She was just…
On the verge of a mental breakdown.
That woman actually dared to treat her beloved boyfriend that way—sending Akane to touch such filthy places, something even she had never asked of him.
She even…
Roughly pressed Akane, who was clean to the point of mild OCD, onto that dining table, obviously not cleaned, covered with food scraps and greasy stains!
Letting the smooth, fair skin of his back be covered in disgusting, filthy grime!
[She actually… actually called Akane ‘Kaoru… slave…’]
Just recalling that humiliating name and the broken tone in which Kaoru Hoshitani was forced to respond made Aina’s heart feel like an invisible hand was gripping it tightly, then ripping it apart into a million pieces.
There was no pain deeper than this.
“Are you really okay?”
Watching Aina stagger out of the restroom, the Supervisor couldn’t help but worry.
Like a puppet on strings, Aina wandered back to her desk in a daze.
She mechanically opened her computer, pulled up work files, and placed her hands on the keyboard, striking the standard pose of someone working hard.
But anyone paying close attention could easily tell she was utterly distracted.
Her rational mind reminded her again and again: that video, like the one before, had many flaws.
For example, in yesterday’s video, Kaoru Hoshitani’s inner thigh bore a clear tattoo, but it was missing in today’s footage.
Or why was the izakaya in the video completely empty?
No customers, not even the Kawasaki Couple who should have been busy in the store—nowhere to be seen.
The entire space was eerily silent, as if deliberately cleared just to stage that unbearable scene.
But even though Aina repeated in her mind over and over:
It’s fake! It’s all synthesized! None of this actually happened!
Her heart still uncontrollably throbbed with sharp, spasmodic pain.
The sensation was so real, so piercing, it nearly stole her breath away.
[Even if it’s AI-generated, isn’t it just too real…?]
A faint yet terrified voice echoed in her mind.
In the video, her boyfriend Kaoru Hoshitani — every subtle smile, every expression between his brows, the instinctive struggles and evasions forced upon him, even the flush at the corners of his eyes and his rapid breaths when aroused…
Every detail, every reaction was indistinguishable from the real him, imitated with such exquisite precision it was almost indistinguishable from reality.
If not for the Black Hand Behind the Scenes having an incredibly deep understanding of Kaoru’s mannerisms and habits, possibly even watching him closely for an extended period, it would have been impossible to create such a video.
[Who… who is it?!]
Aina now hated the mastermind behind this more than anything.
Her precious boyfriend, whom she had always protected like a treasure…
To dare produce such a video to humiliate him!
But right now, all she could do was sit there, tormented by endless rage and pain, trapped in meaningless, impotent fury.
She was like an insect caught in a spider’s web—seeing the threat but unable to find the spider or break free from the invisible bonds.
This helplessness crushed her with unbearable defeat and despair.
At this thought, a fear even thicker than anger rose uncontrollably from the deepest part of her heart, spreading through every fiber of her being like a cold wave in midwinter.
That hidden Black Hand Behind the Scenes…
Now not only capable of secretly implanting an undeletable Virus Program with the Countdown APP function in her phone but also producing such indistinguishably fake “customized” videos.
Their technical skill, their understanding of her, and the malice behind their actions went far beyond mere pranks or harassment.
Could it be…
Could it mean that when the so-called Countdown reaches zero, they will have the full capability to snatch Akane away from her in some unimaginable way, completely unnoticed?!
Aina shuddered violently, feeling she had finally grasped the true purpose of the Virus APP with the Countdown function implanted in her phone.
It was a declaration—a mocking announcement.
The one hiding in the shadows wanted to tell her in advance: watch carefully, your boyfriend will belong to me after one hundred days.
And I’m making sure you know this “Destiny” right now.
But she, Aina Saiten, could only sit like an audience tied to her seat, watching helplessly as the countdown numbers on the screen mercilessly ticked down day by day.
Powerless against the approaching, seemingly predetermined Ending, she withered and collapsed under the weight of fear and suspicion…
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