Kaoru Hoshitani’s movements were so fast that both the male sales associate and Rika Kawasaki were slightly stunned.
“M-Mister…?”
The smile on the male sales associate’s face froze.
He was clearly surprised and bewildered by this sudden turn of events.
He subconsciously looked at Rika Kawasaki, then at the closed curtain of the changing room, asking somewhat helplessly, “Is… is the size not right? Or is there something about the style you’re dissatisfied with? We can immediately exchange it for another size, or you could look at other styles. We have many more in the shop…”
He couldn’t finish his sentence because the changing room was silent, offering no response.
The sales associate hesitantly turned to Rika Kawasaki for help again, his face a picture of professional embarrassment and confusion.
However, Rika Kawasaki simply stood there, her gray eyes staring deeply at the closed curtain.
No anger or impatience appeared on her face as one might expect.
On the contrary, the corners of her mouth seemed to hook into a deeper, more elusive arc.
She gave the male sales associate a nearly imperceptible shake of her head, indicating that he didn’t need to say anything more and shouldn’t disturb him.
Inside the changing room, the light was soft, yet it felt cramped.
Kaoru Hoshitani leaned his back against the cool door panel, his chest heaving slightly.
He moved with a sense of urgency, taking off the expensive, exceptionally comfortable clothes piece by piece.
His fingertips brushed over the fine mesh shirt, the soft vest, and the crisp pants.
Every touch felt like a reminder of the humiliation and control that lay behind this “gift.”
He quickly changed back into his own ordinary but familiar clothes that carried his own scent, as if doing so could regain a small bit of pathetic autonomy and safety.
When the last of his own clothes were on, he neatly folded the high-priced outfit on the cushioned stool in the changing room.
His gaze involuntarily landed on the tag of one of the items.
It was pure white, rigid cardstock, printed with an elegant gold-foil logo. Below it was a clear row of numbers.
His gaze lingered on that string of numbers for a full three seconds. Nearly 300,000 yen…
A clear and cold realization pierced his mind.
‘This is almost equal to Aina’s entire salary for one month of hard work… maybe even more.’
And that woman was prepared to buy it for him without even blinking, as easily and casually as if she were buying a box of candy.
This huge contrast was like a needle, puncturing any weak trace of goodwill he might have had for the outfit.
All that remained was a deeper sense of powerlessness and the stinging prick of the sharp class chasm.
He took a deep breath, as if to suppress all his chaotic emotions, then decisively picked up the pile of clothes and pulled back the curtain.
Walking out of the changing room, his face had regained that submissive, detached calm, though his eyelashes were lowered, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
He handed the clothes to the male sales associate, who was still waiting nearby with a nervous expression, and spoke so softly he was almost inaudible.
“Thank you.”
Having said that, he didn’t linger.
He walked straight toward the shop’s main door, his pace carrying a hint of subtle urgency, wanting to escape this place immediately.
“Wait…”
Just as his fingertips were about to touch the cold glass door handle, that spell-like voice rang out again, carrying an unquestionable power.
At the same time, a large hand reached out from the side, steadily and firmly grabbing his slender wrist, stopping him from leaving.
Kaoru Hoshitani’s body stiffened. He was forced to stop and turn his head.
Rika Kawasaki was standing by his side.
Her other hand had already pulled a black credit card with a dull metallic luster from her small leather wallet.
She didn’t even look at Kaoru Hoshitani’s instantly widened, questioning eyes.
She handed the card directly to the male sales associate, who had hurried over, her tone as flat as if she were ordering the most mundane task.
“Wrap this outfit up for me, thank you.”
“O-Of course! Please wait a moment, it will be ready shortly!”
Although the male sales associate hadn’t fully processed the sudden disagreement between the customers, his professional instincts made him react quickly.
He respectfully took the card—a symbol of wealth and status—with both hands, his face piling on a warm smile once again as he hurried toward the checkout counter.
“You—”
Watching Rika Kawasaki’s series of self-assertive actions that completely ignored his wishes, the anger in Kaoru’s chest could no longer be suppressed.
He tried hard to shake off her hand, but it was in vain. He could only round his beautiful eyes. Due to excitement and anger, the corners of his eyes turned slightly red, and his voice rose involuntarily.
“Didn’t I say I didn’t want it?! Why are you buying it?! Who told you to buy it?!”
Rika Kawasaki didn’t care about his anger at all. Instead, she found his puffed-up, wide-eyed appearance particularly vivid and interesting.
The grip on his wrist didn’t loosen. Her gray eyes narrowed slightly, containing a nearly playful, wicked smile as she asked slowly, “I’m buying something with my own money. Do I really need your permission?”
She paused deliberately, her gaze lingering on his cheeks that were reddening from anger, before lowering her voice to a tone only the two of them could hear, continuing with a certain implication.
“Unless… you’re my husband? Then you would indeed have the standing and right to say that. Why? Do you want to be?”
“You…”
Kaoru Hoshitani was momentarily speechless, blocked by her shameless and ambiguous words.
His cheeks turned so red they looked like they might drip blood, half from anger and half from the implication hidden in her speech.
He couldn’t come up with a more powerful rebuttal.
He could only try to break free from her hand again, turning his face away to avoid looking at her hateful smile.
Seeing him in this state of mixed shame and indignation, like a ruffled little monkey that had its tail stepped on, the bit of unpleasantness Rika had felt from his rejection mostly dissipated.
She suddenly leaned in closer, almost pressing against his ear.
Her voice became exceptionally soft, carrying a unique, almost coaxing tone as she whispered, “Alright, stop making a scene.”
Her breath brushed over his ear, bringing a faint, itchy shiver.
“I truly feel that this outfit suits you very, very well. It looks good on you, and you like it. I can tell.”
She paused, her tone taking on an unquestionable sense of promise.
“With me, you don’t need to suppress or hide any of your desires. As long as you want it, as long as I can see it and afford it… I will definitely put it in your hands.”
This speech sounded almost like a deep confession or promise.
But combined with the twisted relationship between them and Rika Kawasaki’s forceful style, it only made Kaoru Hoshitani feel more confused, uneasy, and… a trace of inexplicable embarrassment at being seen through.
He did like that outfit; he couldn’t deny it.
And having it pointed out so bluntly by her, and under the guise of “satisfying your desires,” gave him a sense of shame, as if he had been completely stripped bare with nowhere to hide.
He didn’t know if it was because he was angrier or because of these complex, indescribable emotions, but his face grew even redder.
Even the tips of his ears and his neck were stained a faint pink. He could only bite his lower lip hard and stop speaking.
At this time, the male sales associate had finished the transaction.
He walked back quickly, holding a thick, cream-colored large shopping bag printed with the brand’s logo with both hands.
He respectfully returned the shopping bag and the credit card to Rika Kawasaki.
“My lady, it’s all packed for you. Here are your card and the clothes. Please take care. We look forward to your next visit.”
Rika Kawasaki took the card and tucked it back into her wallet.
Then, without even looking, she stuffed the shopping bag containing the clothes worth nearly 300,000 yen into Kaoru Hoshitani’s empty hand.
The handle of the bag bit into his delicate palm, bringing a heavy sense of reality.
“Hold it.”
Her tone returned to its usual casualness, as if she were just handing him a bottle of water.
Then, she reached out again, naturally wrapping her arm around his waist. With an irresistible force, she held him and turned to walk out of the boutique.
Kaoru Hoshitani lowered his eyes, forced to follow her pace while carrying the bag like it was a hot potato.
He didn’t resist violently anymore, nor did he try to throw the bag away. He just remained silent, allowing her to lead him away.
His thoughts were in a total mess—anger, humiliation, an instinctive love for beautiful things, shock at the massive expense, and confusion and unease regarding the woman’s “promise.”
All sorts of emotions intertwined, making him fall into a complete silence, unsure of how to deal with this bizarre situation.
For the rest of the morning, Rika Kawasaki seemed to have turned on “shopping mode.”
She enthusiastically held Kaoru Hoshitani as they visited one luxury store after another in the heart of Ginza, past grand storefronts and magnificent window displays.
From top-tier men’s ready-to-wear boutiques to handmade shoe workshops, from designer brand accessory shops to high-end beauty collections that even covered men’s skincare and cosmetics…
She practically led him through every place that could make him “become more dazzling.”
The shopping bags in his hands grew more numerous and heavier.
From the initial shopping bag, they gradually added bags containing perfectly tailored wool coats, fine cashmere sweaters, excellent jeans, uniquely designed leather shoes, and even several bottles of exquisitely packaged but shockingly priced men’s cologne and skincare products.
Kaoru Hoshitani’s hands were soon full, his fingers turned red by the thin ropes.
Rika Kawasaki carried quite a bit herself, but she was clearly enjoying it.
Even though Kaoru Hoshitani maintained an attitude of passive resistance from beginning to end.
He didn’t want this woman, who had forcibly intervened in his life and brought him countless pains, to spend money on him.
He even more so didn’t want to accept these gifts that clearly carried the meaning of “marking” him.
Every time he was pushed into a changing room, every time he was surrounded by sales associates with praise and expectant gazes, he felt incredibly awkward and resistant.
He couldn’t run away. His wrist or waist would always be firmly controlled by her.
He could only be like a soul-less puppet, pushed by her to change into one magnificent outfit after another, stiffly displaying them in front of the mirror, then listening to her or the associates’ evaluations.
However, gradually… even Kaoru Hoshitani himself hadn’t clearly noticed that a subtle change was occurring.
When he put on clothes with fine tailoring, top-tier fabric, and which perfectly highlighted the strengths of his physique, the comfort and pleasure of being wrapped in and elevated by high-quality items were real.
When he saw himself in the mirror presenting various styles—sometimes cold, sometimes soft, sometimes exquisite, or casual—because of the different outfits, the visual enjoyment and a faint sense of satisfaction from being recognized were also real.
Rika Kawasaki was forceful, but in the matter of “shopping,” she didn’t force him to wear styles that were obviously unsuitable or that he disliked.
It was more about having him try them on, and then she would decide to buy them.
This process, to some extent, stripped away the initial intense humiliation of being “forced to accept a gift.”
It was more like a… twisted form of “being cared for” and “being pampered.”
His mood, unconsciously, seemed… to really not be as terrible or as full of desperate resistance as it had been at the start.
And the joy on Rika Kawasaki’s face became more apparent, almost completely undisguised.
She enjoyed this process immensely.
Looking at this originally extraordinary little man before her, who, under her “packaging,” was like polished jade gradually revealing an even more dazzling and impeccable luster, the pleasure of this “cultivation” was fresh and intense.
Every item she bought and put on him was like an invisible seal, branded with her mark, declaring her ownership.
The more he dazzled because of it, the more it proved her vision and the value of “possessing” him.
This sense of satisfaction was far beyond what simple shopping could offer.
Time flew by in the cycle of trying on clothes, displaying them before the mirror, swiping the card, and packing.
By the time the two of them couldn’t carry anything more and their arms felt visibly sore, the sky outside was near noon.
The sunlight had become intense, pouring down through the luxury mall’s massive glass dome, bringing a hint of warmth.
The “shopping expedition” that had lasted several hours finally came to a temporary halt.
With it came the body’s most instinctive protest—hunger hit them both at the same time.
Rika Kawasaki glanced at Kaoru Hoshitani’s profile; he looked a bit tired, yet his face was still slightly flushed and more vivid.
She decided to solve the hunger problem first.
Holding him, she returned to the spacious but somewhat deserted underground parking lot.
She stuffed the large and small luxury shopping bags in their hands into the limited-capacity trunk of the supercar.
After locking the car, the two of them took the elevator back to the ground level.
The flow of people on the streets of Ginza seemed even denser than in the morning.
The aroma of food began to mix with the luxury fragrances in the air.
Rika Kawasaki’s gaze casually swept over the forest of shop signs along the street, looking for a place to eat.
Soon, her gaze fell on a ramen shop that wasn’t particularly large but had a very prominent sign.
Red lanterns, a wooden noren, and two familiar black characters on the curtain—”Quansheng.”
Seeing this sign, a nearly imperceptible, undecipherable light flashed in Rika Kawasaki’s gray eyes.
The curve of her mouth deepened slightly.
“Let’s go to this one.”
She didn’t hesitate at all. Putting her arm around Kaoru Hoshitani’s shoulder, she walked toward the ramen shop.
Kaoru Hoshitani followed her pace passively, his gaze also drifting somewhat blankly over the sign.
“Quansheng”… These two characters gave him a faint sense of familiarity.
He knit his delicate brows, searching his memory.
Ah… that’s right. The company Aina went to for an interview a while ago, wasn’t its name “Quansheng”?
Was it a coincidence? Or was it the same company?
This thought flashed through his mind, bringing a subtle connection to Aina, but it was soon diluted by the reality before him.
The ramen shop was bustling with voices, filled with the rising steam of food and the tempting, rich aroma of bone broth.
They pushed aside the noren and walked inside. The waiter immediately greeted them warmly.
Rika Kawasaki found a booth against the wall that was relatively quiet.
She had Kaoru Hoshitani sit on the inside, while she sat on the outside, naturally forming a sort of… “guarding” posture.
She picked up the menu on the table, her gaze quickly scanning the photos and descriptions of various types of ramen.
Just as her long fingers were about to point at a certain dish on the menu, and she was about to speak to the waiter waiting to take their order—
A familiar female voice, carrying a deliberately refined sweetness but now slightly pitch-shifted due to shock, splashed into the food-scented, noisy air like a discordant noise, ringing clearly in her ear.
“Wait… Big Sister?”
The voice paused for a moment, as if to confirm, then continued with a well-timed, investigative hesitation.
“It really is you, Big Sister? What are you doing eating here?”
The owner of the voice seemed to take a step forward.
Her gaze didn’t just fall on Rika Kawasaki; it was directed straight at Kaoru Hoshitani, who was blocked by Rika Kawasaki on the inside of the booth and was currently looking up because of this sudden interruption.
Her gaze was unmasked curiosity and scrutiny.
That gaze was like a searchlight, looking him up and down.
Then, her voice was stained with an even heavier surprise and playfulness, as if she had discovered some interesting secret.
“And… who is this…?”
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