“Bastard Daughter…?”
Kaoru Hoshitani heard this word from Rika Kawasaki’s mouth—a word rarely encountered directly in daily life, yet whose weighty meaning was always vaguely understood.
His elegant brows couldn’t help but knit ever so slightly, like the faint ripples that spread across a tranquil lake when touched by a spring breeze.
He instinctively repeated it softly, as if he needed to savor its pronunciation to confirm he hadn’t misunderstood.
His gaze wandered blankly to the clear, crystalline wineglass before him, where droplets of water condensed on its surface, slowly sliding down.
[So… that girl just now, the one who looked so beautiful, with such a refined air… her father is… a “Third Party” who broke up someone else’s family?]
This thought dropped into the lake of his heart like a stone, sending out ripples tinted by society’s moral judgment.
Though he barely knew Chinatsu Ayase, and their “chance encounter” just now amounted to no more than a fleeting glimpse and a few words, now that he realized she might have this kind of family background, a complex tangle of feelings—an ambiguous blend of the subtle distance born of social common sense, and a faint sympathy—quietly sprouted in his heart, as if an invisible label had been slapped onto his blurry impression of that girl in the black dress.
“Then…”
He hesitated, his long lashes trembling with anxiety like a butterfly’s fragile wings.
Recalling the scene in the Ramen Shop just now, when Rika Kawasaki and the girl who’d suddenly appeared were talking, it seemed they’d mentioned words like “Quansheng,” “Human Resources Department,” and “Internship”—terms that vaguely overlapped with the details he’d recently heard from his girlfriend, Aina Saiten, about the company she was actively applying to.
An indescribable force—equal parts worry and curiosity—drove him to speak again, his voice even softer than before, probing,
“Just now… in the Ramen Shop, that ‘Quansheng’ you were talking about… what’s that all about? I think I heard her say, that’s where she’s doing her Internship?”
“Quansheng, huh…”
When Rika Kawasaki heard him bring it up again, her expression turned a bit strange.
It was a mix of subtle self-mockery, an almost undetectable urge to brag, and a certain awkwardness born of longstanding, complicated feelings toward her family business.
Her gray eyes drifted toward the grand Ginza cityscape outside the window, as if searching for the right words, or perhaps just to calm some internal emotion.
After a moment, she turned back, her gaze landing again on Kaoru Hoshitani’s confused face. Her tone was even, but her answer was clear,
“That’s my mother’s husband’s company… more precisely, it’s one of my mother’s businesses.”
In truth, the reason she’d chosen to bring Kaoru Hoshitani to that Ramen Shop under the “Quansheng” sign during their date just now wasn’t entirely random.
Deep down, she did have a secret, half-conscious urge to “casually” let him in on her background.
Humans—especially women in pursuit or in control—always harbor some need to show off, hoping to display their strengths, status, and resources to the man they fancy, in order to increase their appeal, earn admiration, or solidify their hold.
This mindset is hard to escape, even for someone as independent and determined to cut ties with her original family as Rika Kawasaki.
That’s why, despite always trying to distance herself from her cold parents, after meeting Kaoru Hoshitani, a childish impulse to “show off” in front of him still quietly emerged.
Even she herself vaguely sensed how “childish” this behavior was, and how much it clashed with her usual style—a rare, almost unacknowledged flush of embarrassment brushed through her heart.
But the faint light of reason was soon drowned out by a stronger desire—
She simply wanted to see the look of surprise, shock, and—best of all—admiration or even a deeper, dependent infatuation on this little man’s face upon learning her identity.
For that, she was even willing to exploit the family background she usually disdained mentioning, at any cost.
However, when Kaoru Hoshitani learned that the woman who had tormented, hounded, and haunted him in nightmares—the yellow-haired woman right in front of him—was actually the Missy of that vast, famed food industry enterprise that his girlfriend Aina Saiten dreamed of joining, his face did not show the shock, awe, or newfound respect Rika Kawasaki had hoped for.
On the contrary.
It was as if a bucket of ice water mixed with winter frost had been poured over his head, freezing him to his very fingertips with numb, chilling dread.
His face, already pale, seemed to lose yet another shade of color, his pupils contracting, and in those fawn-like eyes, usually misted with gentle light, a clear, almost hopeless despair reflected back.
The reason was all too simple. The reason he had so resolutely quit his job at the Kawasaki family izakaya—even giving up a steady income—was to escape this demon of a woman, to get as far from her as possible. Yet in the end, he failed; she tracked him down.
But now, if Aina were to land that hard-won job after so much effort, and it turned out to be at this woman’s family company…
A horrifying suspicion, like a venomous snake, instantly coiled itself around his heart:
Would this reckless, unscrupulous yellow-haired woman use Aina’s job to threaten and control him?
For example, using the threat of firing Aina—or making it impossible for her to find work in the industry—as leverage to force him into further compromises, to endure even more humiliation, or even… total submission?
Given Kaoru Hoshitani’s already rock-bottom impression and assessment of Rika Kawasaki’s character, he had almost no doubt—
This woman would absolutely do such a thing! She didn’t care about any moral lines, as long as she got what she wanted!
[But… what am I supposed to do?]
A flood of panic like black tide swallowed him whole. He felt a breathless confusion.
Should he go tell Aina, make her give up this precious job opportunity that could change their lives and that she worked so hard for?
What reason could he give?
That he was being threatened by a rich girl obsessed with him?
How could he explain all that’s happened between him and this Missy—things he can’t even bring himself to say out loud?
Would Aina believe him? Would she accept it?
Even if she did, how would they survive financially in the future?
He felt as if he’d sunk into a quagmire with no way out.
No matter which way he struggled, it was as if an invisible rope was tightly coiled around his neck—and the other end of the rope was firmly gripped by that gray-eyed woman.
It seemed… he really couldn’t escape her control.
This realization brought such a sense of helplessness and deep dread that he stood frozen for a long moment, staring ahead blankly, his breath shallow and disordered.
Sitting at his side, Rika Kawasaki took in his dazed, absent-minded state—like someone whose soul had left their body—and misread his silence and stupor.
She thought this little man was simply too stunned by her sudden “Missy” revelation to process it, and needed time to digest the “surprise.”
Or perhaps… he was thinking of that “discount little sister,” Chinatsu Ayase, who also boasted a “Quansheng” title and had suddenly appeared just now?
The second possibility instantly wiped away the subtle pleasure her “showing off” had brought, replacing it with a dark irritation that crept across her brow.
She didn’t like it when his attention wasn’t on her, even less when he might be thinking of another woman.
Almost by instinct, with a touch of punitive and possessive impulse, she reached out and wrapped her arm around Kaoru Hoshitani’s slender shoulders, pulling him firmly against herself.
At the same time, her other hand—fingertips cool—slipped under the edge of his shirt and pressed directly against the smooth, supple skin at his waist, soft as mutton-fat jade.
“You…! What are you doing?! Let go!”
The sudden icy touch and violation jolted Kaoru Hoshitani out of his despairing trance.
He shuddered violently, like a startled fawn, instinctively trying to shrink away from her shameless hand.
But mindful of being in a high-end restaurant, with other diners nearby, he dared not make a scene or resist too forcefully.
Flushing scarlet, he turned his head and glared fiercely at Rika Kawasaki, eyes filled with shame and anger, squeezing out a low, trembling rebuke through clenched teeth.
Rika Kawasaki ignored his protest and his glare completely.
Her hand inside his shirt did not retreat. Instead, she caressed his silky skin at the waist with even greater abandon, savoring the sensation and warmth.
At the same time, her gaze swept past the flushed tip of Kaoru Hoshitani’s ear and out once more to the magnificent, bustling Ginza panorama beyond the window.
Looking down on the world from above.
In this moment, she felt a strong, almost imperial rush of conquest and control.
The second half of an ancient Eastern saying floated into her mind, perfectly fitting her mood:
“A true woman should be like this.”
Her gray eyes narrowed, lips curling into a satisfied, haughty smile.
Soon, waiters in elegant uniforms began silently serving the dishes Rika Kawasaki had ordered, one after another.
The exquisite fusion of fine Japanese and Western cuisine was on full display.
On pristine porcelain or artfully shaped plates, the dishes appeared less like food than carefully crafted works of art:
Wagyu beef slices, marbled like polished stone, grilled to perfection with charred edges and a rosy center, paired with green wasabi shoots and edible gold leaf;
Translucent caviar, gleaming like black pearls in a shell spoon;
Whimsically plated appetizers, colors as harmonious as a painting, adorned with edible petals and finely chopped herbs.
Never mind the premium ingredients and complex cooking methods—the inspired presentation and combination of colors and textures alone made even the downcast Kaoru Hoshitani’s eyes light up.
No man could refuse a beautiful meal.
The sense of ceremony in fine dining, and the satisfaction of sharing such stunning food on Social Media, are pleasures few can resist.
Kaoru Hoshitani was no exception.
He had quite a few friends on social media—mostly classmates from his hometown school days.
Mild-mannered and good-looking, he’d been quietly pursued by quite a few girls during his time at school.
Even years after graduation, some of them didn’t seem to have given up, still following his social accounts.
He would sometimes post snippets of daily life: a simple meal he cooked, a new blossom on his windowsill, or a photo of a walk in the park with Aina—little records of happiness in daily life.
Now, faced with a spread that looked like art, he almost automatically reached for his phone out of habit, wanting to capture the moment.
The thought had barely surfaced, his fingers twitching a little.
But the next instant, cold reality yanked him back.
He suddenly remembered his situation—
He wasn’t here on a sweet date with Aina, but had been brought here by a woman who coerced him.
These beautiful dishes were part of this woman’s “charity,” laced with invisible shackles.
Take a photo and share?
Share what?
That he was being “kept” for lunch? That he was on a “date” with this woman?
A surge of intense shame and self-disgust rose up, instantly snuffing out whatever little spark had lit in his eyes.
His hand under the table clenched into a fist, nails digging deep into his palm with sharp pain, as if punishing himself for that momentary lapse.
Stiffly, he lowered his half-raised hand back to his knee, bowing his head and refusing to look at the tempting dishes again.
Rika Kawasaki at his side had not missed these subtle changes—his fleeting anticipation, sudden withdrawal, and the small gestures.
Her gray eyes flashed with understanding, even a trace of indulgent amusement.
She said nothing, but picked up her own phone from the table, unlocked it, and opened the camera.
First, she snapped several close-ups of the most artistically plated dishes—“click, click”—with casual ease.
Then, just as Kaoru Hoshitani, lost in gloom, had his guard down, she suddenly reached out again and pulled him tighter, pressing him close against herself, raising the camera and switching to the front lens.
“Look at the camera.”
She ordered softly, her voice leaving no room for refusal.
Kaoru Hoshitani, caught off guard, looked up in confusion, meeting the screen—
There was Rika Kawasaki’s faintly smiling profile, himself held tight in her embrace with a bewildered expression, the blurred restaurant setting and majestic cityscape in the background.
“Click!”
A crisp shutter sound.
“No! Delete that right now!”
The moment the shutter went off, Kaoru Hoshitani snapped back to reality, bristling like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
All color drained from his face, only to be replaced a heartbeat later by a flood of crimson shame.
Eyes wide in panic, he lunged to snatch the phone from Rika Kawasaki’s hand, his voice shaking with terror and anger, even forgetting to keep it down.
That photo… that shot of him and this woman so close together, in such a high-end place… it couldn’t be seen by anyone!
Especially… never by Aina, or anyone who knew them!
That would be a disaster!