Since she no longer had Kaoru Hoshitani to chat with, a bored Chinatsu Ayase decided to go see Aina Saiten in the Accounting Department during her lunch break.
She took the elevator down from the top floor where the president’s office was located.
The elevator car was quiet, filled only with the faint hum of its operation and the soft chime signaling each passing floor.
Leaning against the elevator wall, she looked at her own refined face in the mirrored surface.
A flicker of an elusive light passed through her grey eyes, identical to her sister’s.
She had long suspected that Aina Saiten was at least aware of her designs on her boyfriend.
Her own deleted contact, and Kaoru Hoshitani’s sudden resignation—all the clues pointed in the same direction:
Aina Saiten had already caught the scent of danger.
But she still wanted to test exactly how much Aina Saiten knew.
Did she only know that she and Kaoru Hoshitani were “getting too close”?
Or did she already know about that seaside trip? Had she only seen surface-level ambiguity, or had she glimpsed the deeper truth?
The answers to these questions would determine her next move.
The elevator arrived.
The doors slid open, revealing the floor housing the Accounting Department.
The office area during lunch break was much quieter than usual. Most workstations were empty, with only a few people chatting in low voices in a corner or heating their meals in the pantry.
The air was filled with the mingled scents of various bento boxes and the faint residual smell of printer toner.
Chinatsu Ayase’s gaze quickly locked onto Aina Saiten’s figure.
She was sitting at an empty table in the common area, a pink bento box placed before her.
Chinatsu Ayase recognized that bento box—it was the type Kaoru Hoshitani often used, a light-colored one with a small cartoon cat printed in the corner.
The food inside was arranged neatly, clearly prepared with care.
Aina Saiten was looking down, using her chopsticks to pick up a piece of tamago-yaki and bring it to her mouth.
Her movements were somewhat mechanical, her gaze somewhat unfocused. Her mind was clearly not on the food.
Chinatsu Ayase stood at the corner of the corridor, not immediately walking over. She rubbed her face, flexed her facial muscles, then gathered up all those complex expressions.
She took a deep breath, and the corners of her mouth slowly curved upward into a perfect, flawless smile.
It was a gentle, well-behaved smile tinged with just the right amount of concern—her most proficient mask.
She cleared her throat, then walked towards Aina Saiten with light, brisk steps.
“Good afternoon, Aina-senpai.”
Her voice was clear and pleasant, carrying the vitality unique to a young girl, as if she were just casually greeting her while passing by.
She walked to Aina Saiten’s side, standing there naturally. Her gaze fell on the pink bento box, then moved away, a trace of confusion appearing on her face.
“I didn’t see Mister Hoshitani at work today. Did something happen?”
Her tone was concerned and natural, as if she were truly just a kind junior worried about the whereabouts of her friend’s boyfriend.
The chopsticks in Aina Saiten’s hand, which had been holding a piece of food about to go into her mouth, abruptly stopped mid-air the moment she heard this voice.
Her fingers suddenly tightened, the knuckles turning white from the force.
The piece of food on the chopsticks—a blanched green vegetable leaf—wobbled, slid from the tips, and fell onto the table with an extremely faint sound.
In that very short time, her face alternated between hot and cold.
Anger was the first emotion to surge up—like scalding magma erupting from the deepest part of her heart, almost burning away all her rationality.
She remembered the video. She remembered the hand Chinatsu Ayase had placed on Akane’s waist.
She remembered those overlapping lips. She remembered that extended tongue. She remembered that black Cadillac parked at the hotel entrance.
It was this woman.
This woman who appeared decent and smiling on the surface would, on some future day, seduce her boyfriend.
Would trick her beloved, fragile, defenseless Akane to a hotel and do those things that would hurt him.
She used almost all her strength to restrain herself from immediately standing up, rushing over, and punching Chinatsu Ayase in the face.
Her fingers under the table were clenched so tightly her nails almost dug into her palms.
Her clenched jaw made her cheeks ache. Her breathing became rapid and disordered, her chest heaving violently.
But she still held back.
The reason Aina Saiten forcibly endured it was because she wanted to change that terrifying future.
She didn’t know exactly what was going on with the videos in this APP, didn’t know where those images came from, didn’t know why the countdown was decreasing day by day.
But one thing she was sure of—if she tore off all pretense with Chinatsu Ayase now, if she let this girl know her intentions were exposed, then the future could change.
And that changed future would become unpredictable.
She didn’t know what Chinatsu Ayase would do, didn’t know what new methods she would use, didn’t know if the scenes in those videos would still happen.
The only thing she could do was maintain the status quo, make everything look the same as before, make Chinatsu Ayase think she still knew nothing.
Only then would the video have meaning. Only then could she make all the preparations before that future arrived.
‘For Akane… For Akane…’
She reminded herself over and over in her heart, like reciting a mantra.
The voice echoed in her mind, suppressing the anger, suppressing the impulse, suppressing the desire to tear everything apart.
She took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. The expression on her face softened bit by bit, like melting snow.
The forced smile was somewhat stiff, somewhat unnatural. The curve of her lips was somewhat forced, the light in her eyes somewhat flickering. But at least—she smiled.
She turned to look at Chinatsu Ayase.
“It’s Chika…”
Her voice was somewhat dry, like someone who had walked in the desert for a long time finally speaking.
She cleared her throat, trying to make her tone sound normal.
“Akane… he’s been staying at home all this time. Suddenly coming out to work was a bit too much for him to get used to, so he decided to resign.”
She paused, looking into Chinatsu Ayase’s eyes.
Those grey eyes were identical to that yellow-haired woman’s, but right now, she couldn’t detect any flaws in them.
“He’ll submit his resignation letter in a few days.”
She continued, her gaze never shifting away.
Then, the corner of her mouth lifted in a curve, carrying a meaningful, probing hint:
“It’s a bit unfair to you, Chika. After all, you went to so much trouble to find this job for Akane, and he just quits like that.”
She deliberately emphasized the last sentence, staring straight at Chinatsu Ayase, trying to see something on her face.
Chinatsu Ayase was mulling over the deeper meaning of Aina Saiten’s earlier words.
“Not used to it,” “resign,” “in a few days”—these words strung together sounded reasonable, yet faintly carried a hint of something off.
If it was just “not used to it,” why not take leave first, or try to adapt for a while, but resign directly? If it was just “not used to it,” why delete her contact?
But her train of thought was interrupted when she heard the following sentence.
“It’s fine, it’s fine.”
She quickly waved her hands, a considerate smile appearing on her face—a smile without a single flaw.
“It’s good if Mister Hoshitani prefers to stay at home. After all, with you here now, Aina-senpai, he doesn’t have to worry about making a living like before.”
Her words were beautifully spoken, both offering a way out and subtly reminding Aina Saiten that the job she now relied on for a living was also provided by her.
After that, the two chatted idly about this and that.
They both smiled, both said those unimportant things, both maintained that perfect mask.
But what lay beneath those smiles, only they themselves knew.
In the end, because both harbored their own ulterior motives and were communicating behind masks, neither obtained any effective information from the other.
Chinatsu Ayase politely said goodbye and turned to leave the Accounting Department.
After she left, Aina Saiten sat in place, watching that back disappear around the corner of the corridor.
The smile on her face slowly collapsed bit by bit, like a melting snowman, revealing the pale, clouded face beneath.
Back in her office, Chinatsu Ayase’s smile vanished the moment she closed the door.
She walked back and sat down on the sofa, crossing her legs, resting her chin on one hand. Her grey eyes churned with thought.
She began to recall every detail of her conversation with Aina Saiten just now—her expression, her tone, every pause, every look.
“Hiss…”
She frowned slightly, talking to herself.
“Aina-senpai seems… she probably just thinks I’m getting a bit too close to Mister Hoshitani…”
She recalled how Aina Saiten looked when she spoke—the smile was a bit stiff, but the tone sounded relatively normal.
When she asked about Kaoru Hoshitani, Aina Saiten’s reply was also reasonable, without revealing any flaws.
Moreover, Aina Saiten’s expression only seemed a bit unnatural.
That unnaturalness seemed more like the instinctive jealousy and wariness of a woman who noticed another woman paying too much attention to her boyfriend, rather than the anger and devastation after discovering some substantive evidence.
Chinatsu Ayase felt that if Aina Saiten knew she had taken Kaoru Hoshitani out over the weekend, knew the two had spent a whole day alone together, her reaction wouldn’t have been this calm.
But if that was the case, then why would Aina Saiten so decisively make Kaoru Hoshitani resign? And why delete her contact?
Chinatsu Ayase couldn’t figure it out no matter how hard she thought.
She leaned back on the sofa, her gaze falling on the ceiling. Her thoughts were like tangled hemp, the more she tried to sort them, the more tangled they became.
Outside the window, the afternoon sun was warm, streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and casting large, bright patches of light on the floor.
In the fish tank in the corner, those tropical fish were still swimming leisurely, their scales refracting colorful light in the water. Everything looked so quiet, so peaceful.
But she knew that beneath this calm surface, undercurrents were already swirling…
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.