If not for the fact that Chinatsu Ayase’s identity was that of a Bastard Daughter who could never be brought into the open, the issue of the family Inheritance might have been much simpler—at the very least, it wouldn’t be as turbulent beneath the surface as it was now.
After all, compared to Rika Kawasaki—who was all but written off and rebellious—Chinatsu Ayase, from every angle, whether it was her outstanding academic performance, her seemingly gentle and obedient demeanor, or her steady, reserved manner, appeared far more like the daughter worth investing resources in and nurturing carefully into a proper Inheritance candidate.
Yet it was precisely her indelible status as a Bastard Daughter that made it impossible.
Rika Kawasaki’s father—a man just as domineering and prideful—would never agree to let her, the “illegitimate child” born from his Wife’s tryst with some man outside, become the official heir to the vast Kawasaki Family Izakaya enterprise.
Otherwise, wouldn’t that be tantamount to admitting that this wild man, in some sense, had forever triumphed over him—becoming the final victor?
For him, this was absolutely unacceptable.
Thus, even though in the past, Rika Kawasaki’s mother might have harbored secret hopes of grooming Chinatsu Ayase, she was forced to suppress such thoughts to maintain the facade of harmony with the Husband who had started from scratch with her and now still wielded true power throughout the Kawasaki Group.
To avoid sparking fierce internal conflict, she could only helplessly abandon the idea for the time being.
However, the seemingly deadlocked situation saw an unexpected turn a month ago.
Chinatsu Ayase’s biological father passed away in a sudden Car Accident in a Foreign Country, which allowed Rika Kawasaki’s mother to naturally bring Chinatsu Ayase back from abroad, settling her beneath her own wing.
At the same time, upon learning that the wild man who had brought him such humiliation had perished, Rika Kawasaki’s father seemed to feel some long-standing threat and resentment quietly dissipate.
This subtle change in his mindset made his attitude toward Chinatsu Ayase, the “stain,” less harsh and absolutely rejecting than before.
In some intangible way, the hostility eased; at the very least, he tacitly allowed her to appear in the house.
It was precisely because of this string of accidents and fate’s mischief that Rika Kawasaki, tonight, could “coincidentally” meet her almost-stranger of a half-sister in this so-called “home” she seldom returned to.
“By the way, Rika,”
The middle-aged woman seated at the head of the table—Rika Kawasaki’s mother—seemed to have finished her meal.
She gently dabbed at her lips with a napkin, wiping away nonexistent oil, then turned her gaze toward her daughter, who was quietly eating her meal.
Her tone was calm, yet brooked no dissent, as she brought up the true business for which she’d called her home tonight:
“I’ve discussed it with your father. We plan to have you and Chinatsu both intern for a few months at one of the company’s Departments, to familiarize yourselves with the basic business processes. Do you have any thoughts about which Department you’d like to go to?”
Hearing what seemed to be a question, Rika Kawasaki’s hand paused ever so slightly as she cut her steak.
The silver knife scraped lightly against the porcelain plate, making a faint, grating sound.
Her face instantly showed unabashed impatience and irritation, and a flicker of aversion flashed in those gray-brown eyes.
What she hated most was her parents’ attempts to dictate her life.
This was far from the first time she’d heard her mother and father propose that she enter the family company.
She recalled her eighteenth year, after graduating high school, when she had clearly expressed her intention not to attend university in the prescribed fashion and wanted to live her own way.
Even then, they’d used nearly identical words—almost as a command—to try to force her hand.
That time, it had ended in a heated argument and stormy fallout.
In Rika Kawasaki’s view, making her enter the company her parents controlled was never about training her.
Rather, it was their way of putting her under their noses, using an even more systematic approach to discipline and bind what they saw as their “unruly wild horse.”
She loathed this feeling of being controlled.
In fact, as early as high school, Rika Kawasaki had foreseen a day like this might come.
To avoid becoming completely dependent on her parents for money and losing her autonomy, she had resolutely chosen to work part-time at a shop she frequented—a store specializing in the sale and repair of Heavy Motorcycles.
She supported herself on the wages from her work at the motorcycle shop, not a fortune, but enough for the basics, maintaining the freedom she wanted.
As for the hefty living expenses her parents deposited into her account each month, she barely touched a single cent; the sum lay untouched in her Bank Card.
At that moment, the middle-aged man sitting across from her at the table—Rika Kawasaki’s father, who had been silent like a backdrop since dinner began—finally put down his wine glass after seeing his daughter’s obvious resistance and dislike, breaking the silence:
“Rika, you’re already twenty this year. You’re an adult. You can’t just keep acting on your whims like before. It’s time to start thinking about doing something serious, taking responsibility for your future. I know… I know you’ve never been able to forgive us, that you hold deep resentment.”
He paused here, as if aware of the cracks in their family,
“But you still need to think about your days to come. Even if you don’t want to do it for us, shouldn’t you at least think about your future… Husband? Are you really willing, when you get married, to watch your Husband run around every day just to provide for the two of you, worrying about your daily needs and expenses, fretting day and night?”
Rika Kawasaki’s fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around her fork.
She fell silent, not retorting sharply as usual.
Those eyes, always shining with rebellious light, now dropped slightly, her gaze falling on the delicate pattern of the plate before her, as if studying it closely.
What even she found baffling was that, for some reason, when her father mentioned her future “possible Husband,” an uncontrollable image flashed through her mind: the man who was always busy shuttling between the kitchen and main hall of the Kawasaki Family Izakaya—
Kaoru Hoshitani’s delicate, distant face, the slender line of his neck as he bowed his head to wipe a glass, and… that day in the restroom, the panic and tears in his eyes, the pallor of his skin.
A hard, cold truth struck her like a splash of icy water.
Although, right now, she could live comfortably on her meager part-time wages and support herself alone, even living rather freely.
But… if she wanted to support a whole family, bear the expenses of two people’s lives, and look toward an even more distant future—if she never touched the vast resources and wealth her parents provided and relied only on her own skills and income—the road ahead would undoubtedly be harsh and straitened.