Fifty-three days remain until your boyfriend, Kaoru Hoshitani, is taken.
Three o’clock in the afternoon, Osaka.
The Quansheng Osaka branch office tower stands in the heart of a bustling commercial district, its glass curtain walls reflecting the pale winter sunlight.
The Vice Manager of Marketing’s office is on the seventeenth floor. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows stretches Osaka’s layered skyline, and in the distance, the faint silhouette of Tsutenkaku can be seen.
The office is simply and modernly decorated: a dark desk, a genuine leather swivel chair, and a few green plants in the corner.
At this moment, a striking figure sits in that wide chair—long golden hair casually draped over her shoulders, wheat-colored skin, gray eyes, and an aura that keeps strangers at a distance.
Rika Kawasaki.
She wears a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing her well-defined forearms.
The cityscape outside seems nonexistent in her eyes. Her gaze rests on the document in her hand, yet the dense lines of text do not seem to enter her mind at all.
Her brows are slightly furrowed, lips pressed tight. She resembles a volcano on the verge of eruption, suppressing lava that could burst forth at any moment.
A light knock sounds at the office door.
“Come in.”
Her voice is cold, edged with impatience.
A female secretary in a business suit enters, holding a document. She walks up to the desk and speaks carefully.
As someone personally assigned by the President to assist the young lady, she knows exactly how volatile the woman before her can be.
“Miss, your flight back to Tokyo this afternoon has been booked. However…”
She pauses, her tone hesitant as she chooses her words.
“The President instructed that you must return by Sunday evening.”
Rika Kawasaki clicks her tongue impatiently.
A flicker of irritation flashes through her gray eyes. She waves her hand dismissively, her tone sharp with annoyance.
“I know!”
Her voice is hard as steel, leaving no room for argument.
She does not even look up at the secretary. Her gaze remains on the document, but the fingers gripping its edge tighten slightly, her knuckles paling.
For nearly a month, Rika Kawasaki had been pouring her energy into that young man every day. Now, after being forced into five days of abstinence, she feels like a volcano ready to erupt, radiating a suffocating pressure.
That oppressive atmosphere fills the entire office, making the air feel thick and heavy.
The secretary nods quickly. She knows the young lady is on the verge of snapping and wisely avoids provoking her.
“Understood, Miss. I’ll remind you an hour and a half before departure.”
With that, she quietly leaves the office, closing the door behind her.
The moment the door shuts, Rika finally sets the document down.
She leans back in her chair, lifting a hand to rub her brow, letting out a low sigh.
The secretary had been sent by her mother, Kawasaki Hana, to help her quickly get familiar with the business—and to keep an eye on her.
Her daily work schedule, movements, and activities are all faithfully reported back to Tokyo.
Unexpectedly, however, Rika seems to have genuinely started taking things seriously.
For these five days, she has actually stayed in the company during the daytime.
Although she often loses her temper over trivial matters and finds the reports and documents overwhelming, she is indeed learning the business.
The head of the Osaka branch’s marketing department had clearly been briefed in advance.
These past few evenings, whenever there were banquets or social gatherings, he brought Rika along, introducing her to various important figures.
Despite her dyed blonde hair and unconventional appearance, when she puts on a well-fitted dark evening dress that outlines her toned physique, combined with her cold expression and natural presence, she makes quite an impression.
Many men at the banquets notice her.
From men in their thirties to teenage sons brought along by their parents, their gazes inevitably drift toward her, looking for opportunities to strike up conversations.
Near the champagne tower, by the buffet table, even in the corridor outside the restroom—someone always “happens” to run into her.
Especially the men in their thirties—the way they look at the strength in her arms and the powerful body beneath her dress, their eyes practically glow.
Some approach under the pretense of a toast, some “accidentally” brush against her hand, and some directly ask for her contact information.
Without exception, she brushes them all off.
The calculated charm and underlying intentions in those men disgust her.
Compared to the clean, refreshing presence of that young man, these people are unbearable.
Rika had thought she could endure these five days.
But by the second night, she realized how wrong she was.
That night, lying in bed, she tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
The night view of Osaka filters through the curtains, casting shifting patterns of light across the ceiling.
She stares at those shadows, but her mind is filled entirely with that young man’s face.
A heat burns deep in her lower abdomen, spreading through her entire body, making her restless.
She turns over, burying her face in the pillow, but the sensation only intensifies.
She goes to the bathroom and takes a cold shower, the icy water barely suppressing the heat.
Yet less than ten minutes after returning to bed, the fire reignites, burning even more fiercely.
Unable to rest, she finally sits up, takes her phone from the bedside drawer, and returns to the bathroom.
Only the exhaust fan is on, dim light slipping in through the door crack.
Rika sits on the toilet, holding her phone in her left hand, the brightness turned to its lowest setting as she plays the videos she recorded before.
The flickering screen light reflects on her face.
The young man’s face, his body, those heart-racing scenes—all vividly displayed.
His breath, his trembling, the tears at the corner of his eyes, the way he bites his lip to endure…
She closes her eyes, letting the images echo in her mind.
An hour later, she finally calms down and lies back in bed, feeling an unfamiliar heaviness.
Staring at the ceiling, a complicated emotion flickers in her gray eyes.
This is the first time in her life she has done something like this.
It’s not that she couldn’t find other men—given her conditions, there would be no shortage.
The men at the banquets alone would line up at her beck and call.
But the problem is, just like before, the sight of other men still repulses her, making her instinctively want to stay away.
Only Kaoru Hoshitani is an exception.
Only that young man can stir her desire, make her lose control, make her do things she herself can hardly believe.
She raises her arm, looking at the defined muscles, feeling the strength within her body with nowhere to go.
This body responds to only one person.
What is this? Retribution?
“…It’s fine.”
Back at her desk, Rika twists open a bottle and takes a long drink.
The cold water slides down her throat, bringing a brief sense of relief.
After a few more gulps, she barely suppresses the lingering heat within her.
“Just a few more hours, and I’ll see him.”
She imagines their meeting—he will probably be afraid, avoiding her, looking at her with those moist, deer-like eyes.
But what does that matter? She has plenty of ways to make him obey.
“Tonight… I just won’t let him leave.”
She sets the bottle down, wipes her lips, and returns to her desk.
Taking a deep breath, she forces herself to focus on the documents again.
But her heart has already flown five hundred kilometers away—to Tokyo.
Four hours later, Tokyo.
At the top floor of Quansheng headquarters, inside the President’s office.
On the sofa, Kaoru Hoshitani and Chinatsu Tsukuse sit with some distance between them.
For the past few days, she has been coming almost every day to keep him company.
Today is no exception. She sits casually, holding a cup of coffee he made.
Kaoru speaks with a faint smile, talking about something that happened that morning.
Suddenly, the phone on the table vibrates.
Chinatsu glances down.
The moment the screen lights up, her expression remains unchanged—but a subtle, unreadable glint flashes in her gray eyes.
It vanishes almost instantly, yet it is undeniably there.
She looks up at Kaoru, still wearing her usual gentle smile, her tone light as if mentioning something trivial.
“Hey… your sister has already arrived in Tokyo.”
Her voice is soft, but like a stone thrown into still water, it creates massive ripples in his heart.
Kaoru’s body stiffens.
He thought he had prepared himself.
He told himself those photos and videos no longer mattered.
He told himself he didn’t need to fear her anymore.
He told himself that as the President’s secretary, he could refuse her, resist her, say no.
But the moment those words—“your sister has arrived in Tokyo”—reach his ears, all his mental defenses collapse instantly.
He lowers his head.
His long bangs fall, hiding his expression.
But his trembling body cannot be concealed.
His shoulders shake. His fingers tremble. Even his breathing becomes uneven.
His heartbeat pounds wildly in his chest, so fast it feels like it might burst out.
Her face, her gray eyes, her powerful presence—all flood his mind.
All the memories, fear, humiliation surge like a tidal wave, completely drowning him.
Chinatsu watches him quietly, saying nothing.
Her gaze rests on his bowed head, on his trembling shoulders.
In her gray eyes, something unreadable flickers—calculation, observation, and a faint, hidden anticipation she herself does not notice.
The office is silent except for the hum of the air conditioner and the soft flow of water in the aquarium.
Seconds pass, each one feeling like an eternity.
Finally, a faint, trembling voice emerges from the shaking figure.
Hoarse, broken, filled with a sob, each word seems to take all his strength.
“P-please… help me… Miss Tsukuse…”