Chinatsu Ayase was an illegitimate daughter.
This mark upon her identity was not something she had known since birth.
Instead, it seeped quietly and irreversibly into her childhood, like the dampness creeping into the walls during the Rainy Season, settling in on some ordinary day when she was still in elementary school.
Only then did she begin to dimly understand that this designation was not just a simple noun, but a secret scar etched onto her from the very start of life—one that would follow her like a shadow, no matter how she struggled, never to be shed.
Her Father met her Heiress Mother when he was in the full bloom of youth at eighteen, a freshman at an ordinary university in Tokyo.
He possessed striking good looks—a gift from the heavens—and this face became his sole pass to ambition.
His only wish was to break free from his original class and, in this city called Tokyo, this metropolis brimming with opportunity and vanity, use his flawless features to pry open the heavy doors to the Upper Class.
The encounter that changed his fate happened at a lavish party he had schemed his way into.
The venue glimmered with splendor, crystal chandeliers scattering dazzling light, the air rich with the intertwined scents of expensive champagne and perfume.
Amidst elegant dresses and perfectly styled hair, every face belonged to someone wealthy or noble.
He was like a sharp young plant, quietly growing in the corner, acutely sensing his prey—the Businesswoman more than a decade his senior.
His eighteen-year-old face, brimming with the juices of youth, and his young body, were in themselves the most potent temptations for a woman.
There was no need for excessive words; a glance, a perfectly timed shy smile, and one night of fleeting passion was sealed.
In the Hotel Penthouse Suite, before the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Tokyo’s sleepless city lights, he did not hesitate.
He offered up the body he had carefully guarded—his greatest Capital—without reservation.
Chinatsu Ayase’s Father was, without a doubt, a clever opportunist.
He understood well the truth of “hoarding rare goods.”
Until that point, he had zealously protected his “purity,” waiting for the moment he could sell it for the highest price.
That night, he gave not only his body but devoted his full wits to making that worldly woman relive the blazing heat and tremors of young love that she thought had long passed.
It was a high-stakes gamble, and with a little luck and careful planning, he won.
Not only did he maintain a long-term relationship with that woman, but he also gained unimaginable, surging tides of money.
Yet he was chillingly clear-headed.
He understood all too well the ancient warning behind “those who serve with beauty, lose affection as beauty fades.”
What that woman was obsessed with was not him as an individual, with thoughts and soul, but the fleeting symbol of “his eighteen-year-old self.”
Once the luster of his youth faded and his body lost its firmness, being tossed aside like a worn-out toy was a nearly certain outcome.
Thus, at the peak of the woman’s infatuation, he began to lay out his plans—softly whispering into her ear at the right moments, using the longing for love crystallized in a child as his reason, and at last persuading the woman to bear him a child.
A child—his protective talisman for a stable future, his inexhaustible withdrawal slip.
He succeeded once more.
He gained Chinatsu Ayase—a living “guarantee” bound by blood, seemingly able to ensure decades of wanton spending.
But the chasm of desire in the human heart, once opened, is never easily filled.
In his eyes, even the massive monetary compensation could never compare to the youth he had given, the irretrievable years.
A greedier, even more ambitious plan began to sprout in his mind.
He would use this daughter as the sharpest weapon to seize everything that woman possessed—including the respect and legitimate status he had never had—for himself.
Thus, when Chinatsu Ayase was still very young, still filled with innocent curiosity about the world, her Father had already paved for her a cold and unyielding path to maturity.
He set harsh, almost cruel standards for her. Whether it was academics, talents, manners, or speech, she had to be outstanding in all.
His purpose was clear and direct: to forge her into a flawless blade, capable of cleaving through all obstacles, a tool to help him fulfill his ultimate ambition.
Under her Father’s relentless indoctrination and shaping, a deeply rooted narrative was implanted in Chinatsu Ayase’s young heart:
The reason they, Father and daughter, had been exiled to a distant foreign land, living like Exiles hidden from the sun, was all because of the man by Mother’s side whom she had never met, and that so-called “Sister.”
These two usurpers had joined forces to take away everything that rightfully belonged to her and her Father—Mother’s love, and the right to live openly in their homeland.
Young Chinatsu, under this carefully guided hatred, engraved it deep within the softest part of her heart.
She believed firmly that it was that Sister, whom she had never even seen, who had cruelly stolen the Mother’s love that should have been hers.
And so, her childhood was filled with endless classes and training.
Under her Father’s watchful eye, she studied desperately, shuttling between various extracurricular lessons—from graceful Ballet to complex instruments, from impeccable etiquette to multiple languages.
Her schedule was measured down to the minute, leaving no room to breathe.
This doomed Chinatsu Ayase’s childhood to be completely isolated from words like “happiness” or “playmates,” leaving only boundless loneliness.
Mother’s presence was long absent from her daily life. She could not fit in with other children due to her different experiences and topics, and even her ambitious Father seldom spent real time with her.
After all, he was busy entangling himself with women of all colors, seeking a so-called “love” that even he could not define, hoping to fill the emptiness in his heart.
The only glimmer of hope and anticipation in her otherwise gray childhood was the brief half-month each year when they returned to Neon City to visit relatives.
Only during those ten-odd days could she see the Mother in her hazy, yearning memories—the woman who gave her life but always remained distant.
Only in that fleeting time and space could she barely feel a sense of “family” completeness.
Yet, beautiful dreams are always short-lived. As soon as the half-month was over, she had to follow her Father back to that foreign land, where language and culture always seemed a layer removed.
This cycle of gaining and losing was like a dull blade, repeatedly slicing at her fragile emotions, and it bred even stronger jealousy and resentment toward the “Sister” who could remain at Mother’s side year-round.
In her simple and stubborn logic, if that Sister didn’t exist, then the one who should have stayed with Mother would have been her.
Long living in uncertainty, as an illegitimate daughter, Chinatsu Ayase was left with a profound lack of security.
This insecurity manifested in a series of specific fears:
She was afraid of the dark, of confined spaces, of strange environments, and of strangers approaching suddenly.
Even the lightest, unexpected touch would make her freeze like a startled kitten, trembling uncontrollably.
Every night, she would unconsciously curl herself tightly into a ball as she fell asleep, as if trying to return to the womb’s most primal posture of self-protection.
In the deep quiet of the night, she would often awaken suddenly, for no reason at all, eyes wide open in the darkness, panic-stricken, her heart pounding until it slowly calmed—and yet, she could hardly fall asleep again…