Under extreme fear and tremendous pressure, she truly no longer dared to stay in her original district or anywhere near the Company.
In the end, plagued by constant anxiety, she quickly resigned from her job and, without even carefully packing her belongings, hastily moved Home.
However, in the darkest, most hidden corners of her heart, this incorrigible woman, when startled awake by nightmares in the dead of night or when left alone, would recall that night’s experience in the Izakaya’s Restroom.
Beyond the bone-deep terror, she would sometimes secretly feel a twisted, filthy regret—
She regretted not acting more swiftly back then, not being more decisive and ruthless, not simply subduing that struggling little beauty by force, not seizing that man who was so stunning, so otherworldly that a single glance set her whole being ablaze.
That porcelain-smooth skin, those tear-filled, startled eyes… Just remembering it made her heart twist with a strange excitement.
Perhaps, even if she had suffered a beating she would never forget afterward, from some perverse, warped perspective, to have tasted such ultimate “delicacy” wouldn’t have been such a loss…
“Mm, got it. Nicely done.”
Rika Kawasaki lounged lazily against the soft back of the sofa, a slender cigarette pinched between her fingers, the ash long and pale at its tip.
She responded absentmindedly, her gaze seemingly fixed on some nonexistent point in the air.
To the eager reports of her younger sisters, she was rather indifferent, her mind clearly far away.
Meanwhile, the two younger sisters, who had been observing for a while, exchanged a knowing glance at their boss’s obvious absent-mindedness, lips curving with an all-too-understanding smile.
They exchanged silent glances, their faces wearing a “just as expected” and “we get it” expression.
[Boss is thinking about a man!]
[Look at her, so distracted she can’t even eat or drink… Tsk tsk, it’s definitely that unbelievably pretty little beauty we saw in the restroom stall that day!]
Previously, the two of them had caught only a fleeting glimpse in the Kawasaki Family Izakaya’s Restroom, but it was enough to see the man being half-shielded by their boss’s tall figure—that beauty whose appearance was so stunning and unforgettable.
That pale skin, those tearful eyes, that fragile yet tempting aura—it was all seared into their memories like a brand.
Later, the two had whispered about the mysterious beauty’s identity, as well as the tense, subtle air between him and their boss.
They both agreed: there was definitely something indescribably special between their boss and that beauty.
After all, in the face of such transcendent beauty, any woman in her right mind would naturally have some wistful fantasies and primal urges—this was only human.
Even their boss, who usually had nothing but disdain for men and could almost be called indifferent to them, was no exception.
Otherwise, something would truly be wrong with her body or mind.
Of course, Rika Kawasaki had no idea she was being so speculated about by her clever younger sisters.
Her gray-brown eyes, always touched with a hint of distance, still stared blankly into the void.
Her slender fingers unconsciously twirled the half-burned cigarette, ashes drifting silently down.
She seemed deeply focused on some problem, a slight furrow between her brows forming a faint crease.
These past few days in the Izakaya, that little man, Kaoru Hoshitani, was avoiding her as if she were some terrifying plague.
Not only did he avoid any non-work interaction with her, but even necessary handovers were kept as brief as possible.
If he spotted her from a distance in the narrow corridor to the kitchen, he’d instantly turn around, preferring a detour to avoid passing her by.
Such obvious avoidance and coldness left Rika Kawasaki—used to control and respect—feeling greatly dissatisfied, as if her heart were stuffed full of cotton, leaving her stuffy and anxious.
Yet, she had no quick fix for Kaoru Hoshitani’s passive resistance.
She couldn’t exactly corner him and question him in front of their grandparents.
From her past experience and stereotypes regarding “men,” most of them were drawn to power and practical benefits.
Even if they had a steady partner at present, once they encountered a woman with superior conditions—more resources, higher status, greater strength—they would easily waver, eager to leave their original partner for this new, more attractive woman.
Rika Kawasaki calmly evaluated herself and believed that—whether in terms of physical strength, social status, wealth, or the security she could offer—she was clearly superior to Kaoru Hoshitani’s seemingly ordinary, overworked girlfriend. Her advantages were obvious.
But reality defied her expectations.
Kaoru Hoshitani was not attracted to her power and status, nor did he throw himself into her arms as she’d predicted.
Instead, he reacted as if she were a dangerous beast, desperately trying to keep his distance and draw a clear line.
This oddity left her not just dissatisfied, but a little puzzled and… challenged.
In truth, ever since that night in the dim, chaotic Restroom stall, when Rika Kawasaki not only saw Kaoru Hoshitani’s almost fully naked, pale, supple body but also forcibly kissed him, her subconscious had, almost tyrannically, marked him as her possession.
If someone asked Rika Kawasaki directly whether she liked Kaoru Hoshitani, she herself might not have a clear, affirmative answer.
“Like” was too unfamiliar and complicated an emotion for her.
But one thing was certain: unlike with other men, she didn’t feel the instinctive dislike or repulsion toward him—in fact, she felt a subtle urge to get closer, even to take control.
Her feelings for Kaoru Hoshitani, when traced back, were still mainly those of a healthy adult woman for a man who met—or even far exceeded—her aesthetic standards: a raw, straightforward physical need and possessiveness.
Like a wild beast eyeing its chosen prey, eager to cage it within her own territory.
Rika Kawasaki felt it was time she had a man of her own.
And Kaoru Hoshitani, with his gentle, docile personality, didn’t trigger the usual aversion she felt toward men.
His looks were flawless, as if he’d been carefully sculpted by an artist.
Especially after that day, when she’d accidentally seen his well-proportioned, unbelievably smooth body, her “compatibility score” for him had only risen higher.
In summary, Rika Kawasaki’s feelings were rooted in physical compatibility, possessiveness, and practical needs—Kaoru Hoshitani was, without a doubt, the perfect partner, able to satisfy her requirements in every way.
To put it bluntly, Rika Kawasaki was… feeling repressed lately.
Every day, watching Kaoru Hoshitani—such a living, breathing, irresistibly charming little thing—flit around under her nose, the slender waist when he carried a tray, the glimpse of his pale nape when he bowed, the clear, shy gaze he sometimes lifted…
It was all like the gentlest feathers, constantly stirring her already restless heartstrings, pushing her patience to its very limits.
The urge to seize him, lock him in her embrace, and savor him at will surged within her like magma, searching for an outlet.
But just as Rika Kawasaki was lost in her thoughts about that little man, her cigarette burning low, her Mobile Phone, placed beside her on the sofa, suddenly lit up, accompanied by a short, clear vibration.
A new message notification popped up—the sender: “Mother.”
She glanced at it carelessly. The brief message on the screen read clearly:
“Rika, remember to come Home for dinner tonight, your Younger Sister is back.”
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