Seventy-eight days left until your boyfriend, Kaoru Hoshitani, is stolen away.
———
Another seemingly peaceful morning.
The Living Room was silent, with only the occasional chirp of birds outside the window and the faint, distant hum of traffic.
Kaoru Hoshitani, dressed in soft, light-colored cotton loungewear, sat blankly at the center of the beige fabric Living Room Sofa that he and his girlfriend had picked out together, resembling a delicate puppet that had lost its soul.
Around ten in the morning, the sunlight carried the clear and crisp feeling unique to early autumn, slanting in from the open balcony Door.
It sliced through his thin figure like a golden blade, casting half his body in warmth, while the other half lingered in the Living Room’s shadow.
The Shadow Line was particularly sharp.
Before him, the Television screen was pitch black, turned off, its smooth LCD surface like a Dull Reflection, vaguely mirroring his current form—
A hunched outline, hands unconsciously hugging his knees, and a profile that had lost its previous vitality, leaving only confusion and emptiness.
He sat motionless, staring at the blurry reflection on the screen, his gaze vacant. It was as if a layer of irremovable gray mist covered the depths of his pupils.
No one knew what he was thinking—perhaps he had long since stopped thinking, simply letting time slip by in numbness.
“Ding dong……”
A crisp, abrupt Doorbell sounded, like a stone dropped into the Dead Water Pool, suddenly shattering the stillness of the room.
Kaoru Hoshitani’s long lashes trembled imperceptibly.
Those previously empty and dust-veiled beautiful Little Deer Eyes, in response to this familiar and terrifying sound, slowly began to gather a faint light.
However, that light was not clarity, but a complex mix of resignation, fear, and deep exhaustion.
He still sat pinned to the Sofa, maintaining his original posture without moving an inch, only tightening his grip around his knees until his knuckles turned pale.
The person outside the Door was clearly impatient.
After pressing the Doorbell once and finding that the Door hadn’t opened as expected, a wave of irritation came through in the next actions.
The Doorbell was pressed again, more forcefully and urgently.
The sharp, continuous “ding dong! ding dong!” sounded like a deathly incantation.
Immediately after, a rougher “dong dong dong!!!” of pounding joined the chorus, making the heavy Door panel tremble slightly, even the frame seemed to groan.
With each thud, Kaoru Hoshitani’s body flinched ever so slightly.
He knew that this feeble, almost instinctive passive resistance was pointless.
If he continued to hold out, the whole building’s Neighbors would soon be startled by the relentless, unrestrained noise.
They would be curious, peek out, and see a striking, yellow-haired woman furiously pounding on his Door.
Just imagining the scene was enough to make him go cold with dread.
So, he finally moved.
As if he had used up all his strength, he slowly released his arms from around his knees, pushing himself up from the soft Sofa cushions, bit by bit.
His legs felt weak, both from sitting too long and the weight pressing on his heart.
The distance from the center of the Living Room to the Foyer Door was just three or four meters, the pale wooden floor usually a path he could cross in a few easy steps.
But now, the way seemed infinitely long and twisted, each step sinking like a foot in a muddy swamp, or like he was walking to an Execution Ground where fate had already been sealed.
He could clearly hear the faint “shh-shh” of his slippers scraping the floor, and the furious pounding of his Heart in his chest, so violent it felt like it would shatter his ribs.
“Click……”
A soft sound, almost drowned out by the relentless Doorbell and pounding. Kaoru Hoshitani stretched out trembling, icy-cold fingers and finally turned the lock, opening the Door a crack.
Instantly, a tall, oppressive figure blocked out all light from the Corridor, filling his vision completely like a mountain.
Against the light, all he could make out was the signature outline of mature-wheat colored yellow hair, and those gray pupils that flashed with a Predator’s Gaze, even in the shadows.
“Why’d you take so long just to open the Door? So slow and dawdling.”
Rika Kawasaki’s voice was clearly impatient, tinged with a trace of Master’s Pride.
She didn’t even wait for him to open the Door all the way.
Before her words faded, her right hand darted out like an iron clamp, skillfully and easily wrapping around his waist and behind his knees.
With a slight exertion, she lifted him entirely off the ground.
To her, Kaoru Hoshitani was as light as a doll.
She entered the Foyer as if it were her own territory, holding him in her arms, and casually kicked off her Shoes with the back of her heel, letting them fall askew to one side.
Then, with steady steps, she headed straight for the Living Room, as if she already knew every inch of this little home.
After settling onto the Sofa, Rika Kawasaki adjusted her posture, positioning Kaoru Hoshitani on her lap in a way that was almost confining.
Only then did she leisurely look over the “Victim” in her embrace.
His features were still stunning, delicate as if meticulously carved by an artisan.
His skin, lit by the sunlight from the balcony, looked nearly translucent.
But beneath those always-moist Little Deer Eyes were faint, sleepless shadows, his complexion even paler than before, lacking any hint of color, exuding a fragile air of breakability.
“What’s wrong? Didn’t sleep well last night?”
Rika Kawasaki curled her lips into a mocking, frivolous smile laced with wicked amusement.
She raised a finger and casually tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at her. Her tone was certain, as if she had already seen through everything:
“Let me guess…….. Was it because you fooled around too late with your ‘useless’ girlfriend and wore yourself out? Or was it that your ‘useless’ girlfriend couldn’t satisfy you at all, so you were left so empty you couldn’t sleep?”
She deliberately emphasized “useless,” each word like a poisoned needle stabbing at his most sensitive, dependent nerves. Her words weren’t a question, but a statement full of ridicule, as if pronouncing an irrefutable verdict.
Hearing her, Kaoru Hoshitani’s slim body stiffened almost imperceptibly. He bit down hard on his soft pink lips, now slightly dry, nearly leaving clear teeth marks.
He lowered his eyes, long lashes trembling like wounded butterfly wings, but kept his lips tightly sealed, refusing to utter a single word in response to the humiliation.
Ever since three days ago, when this demon-like yellow-haired woman first forced her way into the cozy nest he and Aina Saiten had built, his peaceful life had been thoroughly shattered, replaced by endless, precise Dreams.
Every day followed a set routine: In the morning, Aina left for work with gentle reminders and reluctance.
Usually, not even half an hour later—sometimes less—the deathly Doorbell or pounding would start right on time, heralding another round of torment.
It was a naked, despairing scheme. Rika Kawasaki was the most cunning Hunter, in no rush to devour her Victim.
Instead, she kept him suspended at the cliff’s edge where desire and fear intertwined, pushing him again and again toward the abyss, only to pull him back at the last moment, never letting him truly fall or collapse.
She relished this slow corrosion and gradual control.
And he, Kaoru Hoshitani, had only one lifeline left for comfort—his girlfriend, Aina Saiten, who returned exhausted each night.
He longed for her embrace, her warmth, her loving gaze, seeking in her arms the strength to withstand his daytime nightmares.
Yet, even he sadly realized, Aina’s gentle but limited affection was like a cup of water for a burning cart—completely inadequate to douse the raging fire Rika Kawasaki had kindled in his soul and body.
If anything, the contrast and guilt only made the flames burn more unbearably.
Once, in the past, tormented by secret desires, he could secretly rely on the “Secret” hidden in the deepest Drawer of the wardrobe.
He would hide in the Bathroom, lock the Door, and, under the cover of running water, clumsily and shamefully try to resolve it, to soothe the inexplicable restlessness inside.
But Rika Kawasaki, the devil who seemed to read minds, had foreseen even this.
On the first day she came, she forced him into a corner, her hot breath against his flushed ear, and in a voice laced with both lust and cruelty, she drawled:
“If you want to… rely on yourself, or those cold little toys…”
Her fingertip traced his cheek with malice, “that means you admit your precious ‘useless’ girlfriend can’t satisfy you anymore, right? Since it’s not her you rely on… why not rely on me? I’m much more interesting and effective than those dead things, aren’t I?”
Those words were like a sharp ice pick, instantly shattering the fragile shield Kaoru Hoshitani had used to comfort and deceive himself, leaving him stunned.
Overwhelmed by guilt and shame, he was left adrift.
He could not refute her, for the longing was real. And if he really turned to outside objects, it would, in some sense, be “betraying” Aina and confirming Rika Kawasaki’s vicious accusations.
So, for these three days… he was like a traveler stranded in a desert, enduring the ever-increasing thirst and burn, stubbornly refusing to touch the “water source” that was so close, yet, to him, symbolized Forbidden Source and betrayal.
He could only endure… desperately endure, using his fading willpower to resist his instincts and the growing flames fanned by that yellow-haired woman.
[Just… just hold out until these seven days are over… It’ll be fine as long as I get through a few more days…]
Kaoru Hoshitani repeated this to himself over and over in his mind.
[Right, how many days are left until these seven days are over…?]
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