“What a useless piece of trash.”
Rika Kawasaki’s voice broke the brief silence in the room.
The voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a low resonance squeezed from deep within her chest.
Every word felt like a blade tempered in ice, chilling to the bone.
Her gray eyes shimmered with a sharp light, like an undercurrent surging beneath a frozen winter lake, carrying a hint of genuine, uncontrollable rage.
“A woman who can’t even protect her own man…”
She practically spat the words through gritted teeth. Her arm around Kaoru Hoshitani tightened instinctively.
The strength was astonishing, as if she wanted to crush his slender frame into her own body.
“If I had been on that train, I would have broken that person’s hands. One by one, I would have snapped them.”
Though it sounded like mere venting or exaggeration, Kaoru’s limp body couldn’t help but shudder slightly in her arms.
He actually believed this yellow-haired woman would do such a thing.
The light flashing in those gray eyes wasn’t a threat or intimidation; it was a declaration, an absolute confidence in her own power that felt almost natural.
She would really do it, and she really could.
However, in the next second, the large hand that had been holding him with a twisted sense of tenderness suddenly shifted.
Fingers as powerful as iron pincers abruptly seized Kaoru Hoshitani’s slender and fragile swan neck.
The pressure was precise and terrifying. It wasn’t light enough to ignore, nor heavy enough to suffocate him instantly.
Instead, it was caught at a threshold — allowing him to feel the shadow of death pressing against his skin without immediately stealing his breath.
Rika Kawasaki leaned down, her face, filled with anger and complex emotions, inches away.
Her expression was frightening as she stared him down.
Her breath fanned across his face, scorching hot with a nearly imperceptible tremor.
“Someone touches your butt and not only do you not resist, but you don’t even make a sound?”
Her voice dropped even lower, each word squeezed out from between her teeth.
“You couldn’t possibly be so thirsty, could you? If someone did what I just did and forced themselves on you right there on the train, would you not even resist then? Hmm?”
“No… it wasn’t… like that… gh…”
Kaoru Hoshitani managed to squeeze broken syllables from his constricted throat.
The hand was gripping him too tightly. He began to struggle for breath as oxygen was slowly drained from his body, and his cheeks flushed from the lack of air.
He instinctively raised his small hands, using his remaining strength to swat at the woman’s muscled arm.
His nails left several shallow white marks on her wheat-colored skin, hoping she would let go.
But Rika Kawasaki seemed as if she truly intended to strangle him.
Her gray eyes stared intently at his face, which was contorted in pain, and the strength in her hand actually increased slightly.
The force was precise and cruel, putting clear pressure on his trachea while skillfully controlling it to prevent him from immediately passing out.
Just as Kaoru Hoshitani’s eyes began to roll back uncontrollably and the edges of his vision were swallowed by darkness — just as his consciousness was about to fall into the abyss —
The hand suddenly let go.
“Cough! Cough… gasp… hah… hah…!”
Air flooded into his lungs like a dam breaking. Kaoru Hoshitani coughed violently, tears and snot flowing uncontrollably as his chest heaved, greedily snatching every bit of oxygen.
He hadn’t even recovered from the fear of death, nor had he managed to catch his second breath —
When he was suddenly and tightly pulled into the woman’s powerful arms.
The strength was greater than any time before, as if she wanted to crush his bones one by one and rub his entire being into her own flesh and blood.
His face was forced into the crook of her neck.
His nostrils were instantly filled with her trembling scent — a mixture of sweat, hormones, and a faint scent of tobacco.
He could clearly feel the rhythm of the heart beating violently in her chest.
The frequency was incredibly fast, a stark contrast to her cold, hard expression.
“Break up with that waste.”
Rika Kawasaki’s voice came from above. It was much calmer than before, yet it carried an unquestionable, almost commanding seriousness.
Her chin rested on the top of his head, and the vibration of her chest as she spoke was clearly transmitted to his pressed body.
“A woman who can’t satisfy you and can’t even protect you… what is there about her worth lingering for?”
She loosened her embrace slightly and lowered her head. Her gray eyes burned with an intense light, looking straight into his.
That gaze was no longer the usual playful, aggressive, or mischievous scrutiny. It was an unprecedented, almost obsessive seriousness.
The light was so intense it felt as though it would pierce through his pupils and shoot straight into the depths of soul.
“Be with me.”
She said it word by word, her voice low and firm. Each word felt like a vow, yet also like a sentence being passed.
“I can give you the life you want. I can let you experience what a real man is. I will protect you and never let another woman touch you again. Not even a single finger.”
For some reason, Kaoru Hoshitani didn’t dare meet the woman’s gray eyes.
His gaze instinctively flickered away, drifting to the side.
It landed on the bedside lamp emitting a warm yellow glow, on the clothes scattered messily on the floor, and on the night sky outside the window.
But no matter what, he could no longer look directly into those eyes.
Perhaps it was because he was afraid he might waver.
This morning, when he was being molested by that strange female molester, Aina had been holding him.
She was right beside him, yet he had still been so helpless and terrified.
He had been shaking with fear but didn’t dare make a sound or resist.
That sense of desperate loneliness still clung to his heart like cold slime.
But now, under this yellow-haired woman’s dominance and violence, amidst the madness of her nearly strangling him then holding him tight, his heart — the heart that should have been filled with fear and hatred — actually felt a distorted, indescribable sense of peace.
It was as if, within this mad and powerful embrace, nothing could ever hurt him again.
This is a psychological phenomenon known as Stockholm Syndrome.
Under specific circumstances, a victim develops an emotional dependence on their abuser, even reaching a state of sympathy, defense, or identification with the abuser’s actions.
It usually occurs in relationships with severe power imbalances, such as kidnappings, captivities, or domestic violence.
Its core is a psychological defense mechanism born of despair, where the victim alleviates their own immense fear by “rationalizing” the other person’s behavior.
But how could Kaoru Hoshitani’s feelings for his girlfriend, Aina Saiten, be so easily provoked or replaced?
They were childhood friends of over ten years. They had supported each other through difficult years.
Their trust and love were an indestructible foundation built upon countless warm hugs and deep gazes.
[‘No… I can’t… These are all just this woman’s honeyed words… Kaoru Hoshitani, you can’t betray Aina… You absolutely can’t…’]
He shouted desperately at himself in his mind.
His nails dug deep into his palms, using the pain to combat the dangerous sense of dependence that was quietly taking root.
Rika Kawasaki watched him silently for a moment.
She saw the intense struggle in his eyes, the endurance as he bit his lower lip, and how he desperately denied what was clearly shaking him.
She didn’t press him further or use words to apply more pressure.
She knew that once certain seeds were planted, they only needed time to take root and sprout.
She suddenly flipped over, pinning Kaoru Hoshitani beneath her once more.
The soft mattress dipped slightly from the movement. Their bodies pressed closely together, and she could feel every slight tremor running through him.
Then, her large hands slowly rose, interlocking fingers with his small hands, which were clenched tight from tension.
She gripped them firmly, refusing to let him pull away.
The sensation of their intertwined fingers was strange and intimate.
His fingers were slender and cold, while hers were thick and burning hot, fitting together perfectly without a single gap.
She lowered her head and kissed him deeply.
This kiss was different from the previous instances of plunder and conquest. It carried an unprecedented, almost solemn lingering.
She kissed him deeply and slowly, as if transmitting something through the kiss that could not be expressed with words.
A single tear slowly slid from the corner of Kaoru Hoshitani’s eye, following the curve of his cheek and disappearing into the hair at his temple.
Then, in a moment he didn’t even realize — he actually began to reciprocate the kiss.
The response was extremely faint and awkward, barely more than a minute, instinctive reaction of his lips.
But for him, this tiny, involuntary act was like a clear signal.
Perhaps at this very moment, in the darkness where tears and body heat intertwined, he finally accepted his physical relationship with this yellow-haired woman in his heart…