Just yesterday, she had tasted for the first time that unique, addictive flavor of a man.
At this moment, Rika Kawasaki’s mood was still like that of a predator who had conquered a rare prey, warped satisfaction and excitement twisting together—she felt quite good, naturally.
She lounged sideways on the slightly worn leather sofa in the villa, her fingertips unconsciously stroking her phone screen, admiring the secret photo she’d taken last night—a humiliating yet alluring image of that little man.
Although last night, before leaving, Kaoru Hoshitani had cast her a gaze full of tears—those eyes like a helpless fawn cornered, mixing bone-deep resentment and powerless rage—like a tiny sharp thorn lodged deep in her prideful satisfaction, making her faintly bothered and inexplicably irritable.
But she quickly forced that discomfort down.
Later, she had vaguely recounted what happened with Kaoru Hoshitani—skipping over some of the more forceful details—to a little sister known for having dated many boyfriends and being rich in experience, asking this “veteran in love” to help her analyze how to completely conquer this seemingly gentle but unexpectedly stubborn little man.
That little sister, hearing her boss’s half-boastful, half-troubled description, immediately gave a knowing smile, patted her chest forcefully, and swore to Rika Kawasaki that she needn’t worry about such resistance. There wasn’t a wall that couldn’t be pried loose—especially not a man’s wall.
She even shared, enthusiastically and a bit showily, her “precious” experience in “conquering” men, spitting out all sorts of simple theories like, “The body is the fastest shortcut to a man’s heart,” “As long as you get on the train first, don’t be afraid he won’t buy a ticket,” and, “Men are essentially drawn to strength—the stronger you are, the more he can’t leave you.”
Whether or not, deep down, Rika Kawasaki truly believed such crude theories was one thing—but their focus on physical possession and forceful control did align perfectly with her own ideas.
She licked her somewhat dry lips, a glint of determination flashing in her gray eyes.
In her mind, she was already sketching out the next time she would completely take control of that pure, fragile little man.
However, reality struck her hard.
After waiting all day with this twisted anticipation, she finally made it to dusk.
Riding her modified, thunderously loud Black Motorcycle, she did a swift tailspin stop right at the entrance of her grandparents’ Izakaya.
She took off her Helmet, shook out her glaringly blonde short hair, and pushed open the door with a hint of impatience. The Wind Chime jingled crisply.
Her gaze, sharp as a searchlight, swept quickly over the front room as staff prepared for business, but the slender, graceful figure she longed for was nowhere to be seen.
Rika Kawasaki’s proud brows immediately knitted into a deep, displeased groove.
Based on Kaoru Hoshitani’s unbroken habit these days, he should already be at the shop at this hour, dressed in that simple indigo kimono—perhaps quietly polishing cups, or helping prepare ingredients in the kitchen.
A sense of foreboding crept up her heart.
“Grandpa,”
She turned, her tone clearly impatient, and walked toward Mr. Kawasaki, who was sitting behind the bar, wearing his Glasses and checking the Menu. She asked directly,
“Hasn’t Kaoru come in today?”
“Ah, you mean Mr. Hoshitani,”
Mr. Kawasaki heard his granddaughter’s question, looked up from the Account Book, and a trace of genuine regret appeared on his face.
He pushed his Glasses further up his nose, sighed, and said,
“He won’t be coming in to help anymore, starting today. Such a good kid—worked hard, customers liked him… sigh, he said…”
The old man paused, as if he found the reason a bit amusing coming from himself, a gentle smile appearing on his face.
“He said he’s going to focus on Pregnancy Preparation with his Girlfriend, so he’s not going to do part-time work anymore.”
BANG!
A heavy, jarring crash echoed through the quiet front hall.
The Helmet Rika Kawasaki had been carelessly clutching suddenly slipped from her now-limp hand, thudding loudly on the polished floor and sending a jolt through the air.
“Not coming anymore…? Pr—Pregnancy Preparation…?!”
Hearing those words from her grandfather, Rika Kawasaki’s face froze. In the next moment, like a palette being knocked over, her expression turned ashen at visible speed, as if she’d just swallowed a fly whole.
She nearly ground her teeth to dust, chewing over the words, as if unable to comprehend the meaning behind their combination.
Her gray eyes were filled with disbelief and the fury of being slighted.
<He actually dares… He actually dares not to come anymore?! Is he really not afraid I’ll send those photos, every single one, to his precious Girlfriend?! How dare he?!>
In truth, Kaoru Hoshitani was terrified—so frightened he shook to his core.
But what he feared even more, deep inside, was that if he kept staying in this Izakaya—a wolf’s den—facing this yellow-haired woman as predatory and possessive as a wild beast, his last scrap of chastity he wished to keep for Ai would be ruthlessly, completely taken and crushed by her.
That’s why his decision not to return was made with a desperate, ‘let the chips fall where they may’ sort of recklessness.
If Rika Kawasaki really went ahead and sent those photos out…
He dared not imagine the consequences, only hoping she’d have some scruples.
“Heh… haha… hah…”
On Rika Kawasaki’s side, however, she was clearly caught off guard by Kaoru Hoshitani’s unexpectedly resolute “defiance.”
A blend of intense anger and a stinging sense of humiliation from being slighted made her let out several short, cold, mirthless laughs, the corners of her mouth twisting upward as her gaze darkened frighteningly.
She suddenly bent down, scooping up the Helmet with a rough movement and hugging it tightly to her chest as if it were that little man’s neck.
Without hesitation, she strode towards the door in a gust of wind, her temper blazing—
She had to find that ungrateful little man right now, grab him by the collar, and properly “ask” him just what he thought he was doing.
Who gave him the courage to escape her grasp?!
“Eh? Rika!”
Just then, Mr. Kawasaki, sitting behind the bar, saw his granddaughter about to rush out as if ready to pick a fight, and hurriedly called out, his aged voice tinged with confusion and a trace of reproach,
“Where are you suddenly running off to? The shop’s about to get busy! We need all hands right now! Mr. Hoshitani’s not here anymore, so tonight will be even more hectic. Go help prepare in the kitchen right away!”
“……”
Rika Kawasaki’s stride halted abruptly at the door. Her knuckles whitened around the Helmet from her grip, the veins on the back of her hand bulging.
Her chest heaved violently, a blaze of anger with nowhere to vent crashing around inside, burning so hot her insides ached.
But faced with her grandfather’s commanding tone, she couldn’t openly refuse.
She could only bite down hard, her jaw clenched so tight she almost ground her teeth to powder, forcing out a reply through gritted teeth:
“…Got it!”
She swallowed her explosive rage, her face so dark it seemed to drip water, and, heavy-footed and resentful, turned back to the kitchen.
She snatched up a Kitchen Knife and hacked at the food on the Cutting Board, each “thump thump” radiating violent energy.
She barely managed to hold back her impulses until 10:30 that night, when the last group of customers finally left.
Rika Kawasaki all but tore off her Apron, not even bothering to clean up, grabbed her motorcycle keys, and stormed out of the shop.
Since she’d taken Kaoru Hoshitani home before, she remembered exactly where he lived.
The engine roared furiously, and the Black Motorcycle tore down the nighttime streets like an out-of-control bolt of black lightning, soon delivering her to the building where Kaoru Hoshitani lived.
She set one foot on the ground, took off her Helmet, and looked up at the window glowing with warm light.
The cold night wind swept her golden hair, but it couldn’t extinguish the flames of rage and possessiveness burning inside her.
Yet her remaining rationality told her that at this hour, the weakling little man’s proper Girlfriend must already be home—she couldn’t just rush up and knock, or she’d only alert them and complicate things.
Though, with her abilities, she could easily just break in, tie up the troublesome Girlfriend like taking out the trash and dump her in the corner, making her watch as she “satisfied” her boyfriend, as she, Rika Kawasaki, left her mark of ownership right before her eyes…
This dark and thrilling idea circled in her mind like a poisoned apple, making her so excited her fingers trembled.
But in the end, she shoved aside that notion that would destroy herself as well.
She needed to find an opportunity…
An opportunity to be alone with that little man.