Since that nightmare of a banquet, the towering image of her parents in young Rika Kawasaki’s mind collapsed with a deafening crash, shattering into countless fragments she could never hope to gather again.
The very idea of “Family,” once the bedrock of her world, was now forever stained with a grime that could never be wiped away.
As she grew older and entered adolescence, she was forced to once again attend those dazzling high-society gatherings, filled with famous faces and glamorous facades, at her parents’ side.
It was then that she keenly noticed the “Professional Lovers” weaving through the crowd, eyes sharp and searching like radar, just as they had once done with her wealthy mother—now, their focus had shifted to her.
They pulled out every trick in the book: carefully practiced shy smiles, eyes that seemed to reject yet beckoned, and gestures that appeared casual but were actually meticulously calculated—all for one clear goal: to latch onto her, the only heir to the Kawasakiya.
For these men, who longed to climb the social ladder and bask in the intoxicating luxury of the upper class, seducing an older woman—old enough to be their mother—just to become a replaceable, lowly lover was a poor substitute.
Obviously, aiming for a “Second Generation” like Rika Kawasaki, young and possessing immense inheritance rights, was a far-sighted and promising investment.
After all, as long as their means were clever enough and luck was on their side, if they could make a wealthy heiress like Rika Kawasaki truly fall for them, their chance to leap over the dragon gate and become the legitimate husband of such a rich family was enormous.
That position as the True Wife’s spouse was a world apart from being some forever-in-the-shadows, lowly Mistress; it was a step to the heavens, a chance to change not just their fate, but the fate of their entire family.
It could be said that there wasn’t a single “Professional Lover” who didn’t harbor the ambition to rise up, but it was a feat as hard as climbing the sky.
After all, in Tokyo Metropolis—the world’s most populous, prosperous, and competitive city—handsome and cunning men were as common as goods on a store shelf, dazzling and easily replaced.
If you had money, you could easily find and toy with the freshest, most compliant young boys in places like Toyokubo Park.
They were the so-called “Divine Attendant Boys,” those who had run away from home for various reasons, left homeless and forced to trade their youth and bodies for survival.
In this market of rampant desire, youth and beauty were the cheapest and most unstable of assets.
Rika Kawasaki was, of course, fully aware of this swarm of men, converging on her like sharks drawn by blood, and the naked, utilitarian intent hidden beneath their dazzling exteriors.
This knowledge filled her with a wave of visceral disgust, making her want to retch.
She drove these men away without hesitation, seeing not only their possibly unclean bodies but souls far dirtier and more repulsive than their flesh.
After years of being steeped in this environment and experiencing it firsthand, her impression of the so-called “Man” had sunk far below zero, leaving almost no room for redemption.
Deep within her subconscious, she had even come to stubbornly blame the male gender for all wrongs.
She was convinced that it was the very existence of “Men” that had directly or indirectly caused her family to fall apart—shiny on the surface, but wretched within.
It was because of those shameless, actively seducing, Mistress-wannabe men that her mother lost her self-control and betrayed the family that should have been solid as rock.
Likewise, it was also because of her father, a man who couldn’t control his desires, who cheated with other women and was the first to betray the family’s trust and promises.
It was because of these Mistress men that her mother betrayed this family.
It was because of her father, this man, who cheated with other women and betrayed this family.
Do you think Rika Kawasaki is being a hypocrite?
Well, there’s nothing you can do about it. In this world, women will always side with women.
And in the relatively innocent days at school, the boys she met there failed to change her increasingly rigid, terrible impression.
Aside from the few boys who buried their heads in their studies and had almost zero presence in the class, the rest—the lively ones always seeking attention from girls—in Rika Kawasaki’s eyes, were simply the lowest and shallowest creatures in the world.
Most of them were vain, obsessed with comparison; privately, they were promiscuous; even in friendship and love, they were riddled with betrayal.
So, even now at eighteen, Rika Kawasaki had never dated or had any relationship with a man—simply because she found them disgusting.
But the appearance of Kaoru Hoshitani seemed to completely shatter Rika Kawasaki’s stereotypes…
The first time the two met was in the Kawasaki Family Izakaya.
Her grandfather wore a kindly smile as he led a strange young man to her, as she was wiping down the counter, and introduced him enthusiastically:
“Mr. Hoshitani, this is my granddaughter, Rika. She helps out when things get busy.”
Then, Grandfather Kawasaki turned to his granddaughter, whose head was still bowed as she focused on her cleaning, and, with a hint of dissatisfaction, raised his voice in a gentle reminder:
“This is Mr. Hoshitani. He’ll be helping out at the shop from now on. Rika, don’t be rude.”
Rika Kawasaki, of course, knew the shop was hiring lately, so she didn’t pay it much mind.
Hearing her grandfather’s slightly reproachful tone, she finally lifted her head and glanced disinterestedly at Kaoru Hoshitani, who stood beside her grandfather.
But that casual glance made her gaze freeze for an instant; a rare flash of pure amazement flickered in those usually distant and slightly impatient grey-black eyes.
Even she herself didn’t notice that her hand, busy wiping the counter, paused for half a second.
The reason was simple—this man named Kaoru Hoshitani was just… too beautiful.
It was a beauty that transcended gender and the common definitions of the world.
Even Rika Kawasaki, who’d grown up surrounded by beautiful boys—specially selected for the pleasure of the elite and far above ordinary standards—had never seen anyone who brought such a fresh and soul-stirring sense of wonder as this man before her.
His beauty wasn’t just about flawless features and visual pleasure; it was a unique aura that flowed naturally from within.
Pure, gentle, with a clarity untainted by dust—like the first drop of dew on a newly-bloomed petal at dawn: crystal clear, fragile, yet beautiful.
In this age of advanced technology, it’s easy for plastic surgery and makeup to turn even the ugliest of men into soulless “Beauties” that fit public tastes.
The market was flooded with such mass-produced, doll-like faces.
But the unique “aura” nurtured deep within one’s bones—something that can’t be faked by a cold scalpel or expensive cosmetics—was irreplaceable.
It required time to settle and a pure heart to nurture; it was the soul reflected on the face.
And Kaoru Hoshitani possessed just such a rare, genuine, and moving aura that was nearly extinct in this era.