“Go change your clothes. We’re going out in a bit.”
Kaoru Hoshitani opened the door to find Rika Kawasaki leaning lazily against the doorframe as she spoke.
“You… Why are you here so early?”
His voice came out dry and tense, tinged with unmistakable panic.
Just ten minutes earlier, he had seen his girlfriend Aina off to work; at the foyer, they’d shared a brief Morning Kiss, the lingering scent of minty toothpaste still fresh.
Barely had his girlfriend left when this blonde woman appeared, her timing so precise it sent chills down his spine.
Kaoru couldn’t help but worry: had Rika Kawasaki been lurking somewhere downstairs, watching? Or—worse—what if Aina, not yet far away, turned back and caught a glimpse of them together?
The overwhelming sense of dread drowned out everything else. He hadn’t even registered or had time to process Rika’s command about “going out.”
Instead, like a startled rabbit, he dashed barefoot to the door, almost crashing into Rika Kawasaki.
He craned his head anxiously into the hallway, his pale face framed by wide, panicked eyes, searching for any trace of suspicion, or signs of nosy neighbors.
“What?”
Rika Kawasaki looked at his startled, flustered expression—not angry in the slightest. Instead, her lips curled with open amusement and mocking disdain, as if enjoying an entertaining show.
“Are you worried your ‘useless’ girlfriend might see? Relax. Right now, her head is probably full of ways to climb up in the company, to make money to support her little husband, right? There’s no way she’d suspect her precious, pampered boyfriend spends every morning, after she leaves, at home with another woman… cheating.”
She drew out the last two words, enunciating them clearly and deliberately, savoring his discomfort.
“Spit!”
Kaoru Hoshitani jerked as if bitten by a snake, glaring at Rika Kawasaki with eyes brimming with humiliation and anger.
His gaze was no longer merely fearful, but now laced with the sharp hatred born of a purity defiled.
His pale cheeks flushed with agitation. He spat forcefully at the ground, as if to expel every taint from his mouth.
His voice shook but was laced with desperate defiance:
“Cheating?! It’s you—the shameless molester—who forced yourself on me! You’re the one who did this! I’ll never forgive you for as long as I live! You… you’ll die a miserable death!”
Hearing this small man squeeze out such a vicious curse through clenched teeth, Rika Kawasaki’s usually playful or indifferent grey eyes flickered imperceptibly.
Something deeper, more complex, rippled beneath the surface, too swift to catch.
She did not immediately retort or retaliate. Instead, for once, she fell into a rare, inexplicable silence.
The foyer fell quiet, filled only by Kaoru’s ragged breaths and the faint white noise of the city beyond.
The brief hush did not comfort Kaoru; rather, it felt like the calm before a storm, deepening his unease.
He eyed her warily, unconsciously shrinking back.
A few seconds passed before Rika Kawasaki, as if she hadn’t heard his curse—or as if she’d forced it down into a hidden corner of her heart—spoke again.
Her tone was as flat as before, even laced with a hint of deliberate detachment, as if the recent outburst had never happened:
“Go change your clothes. I said, we’re going out soon.”
“Going out?”
Kaoru Hoshitani frowned warily, his long lashes casting uneasy shadows under his eyelids. He couldn’t fathom this woman’s intentions.
In his mind, she should, as she had the past few days, force him to submit in every way within this apartment.
Why go out? Where to? What new torment was she planning?
“Why are we going out? Where to?” he blurted, distrust and resistance thick in his voice.
Rika Kawasaki’s earlier silence didn’t mean she hadn’t registered Kaoru’s emotional words and curses. Seeing his continued defiance and questioning now, the faint complexity in her eyes was instantly replaced by a chilling coldness.
Her grey pupils became icy, reflecting not a trace of warmth.
Without another word, she reached out with a strong, wheat-colored hand—her grip firm and unyielding as iron pincers—clamping down on Kaoru Hoshitani’s flushed, smooth cheeks.
Her grip was unrelenting, forcing his lips into a pout, a sliver of pink tongue peeking out. She leaned in, closing the distance until her breath nearly brushed his face.
Her cold grey eyes, predatory and sharp, locked onto his tear-bright, frightened gaze. Word by word, with a voice frigid as ice, she declared:
“You think… you have a choice?”
This was no question, but a verdict—a sentence. The chill in her voice, together with her inescapable grip, shattered whatever scrap of courage Kaoru had rallied in his anger.
He could feel the unbridgeable gulf in strength between them, the absolute dominance behind her words: “No matter where or what, you must obey.”
Only when she felt his delicate body tremble uncontrollably, the spark of rebellion in his beautiful eyes quickly snuffed out by fear and resignation, did Rika Kawasaki release him, seemingly satisfied.
Her fingers left white marks on his tender cheeks, which gradually faded to red.
Freed, Kaoru Hoshitani bowed his head abruptly, like a wounded beast, avoiding her suffocating gaze. Every bit of resistance and protest died in his throat, leaving only heavy, helpless silence.
He didn’t say another word. He turned and walked back to the bedroom on unsteady legs to change clothes. His slender back looked all the lonelier for it.
This time, Rika Kawasaki uncharacteristically did not follow him in to continue her “game” or to supervise.
She remained leaning against the doorframe, watching his figure disappear behind the bedroom door.
In the depths of her grey eyes, a stormy, unreadable emotion surged—something perhaps even she had yet to understand.
Her fingers curled imperceptibly at her side.
[Ruined it again…]
A faint, almost self-loathing thought bubbled up from the deepest corner of her heart, only to pop and vanish.
[I really… planned to treat him a bit better today…]
Though Kaoru Hoshitani had no mind to dress up now, his heart a knot of fear and dread for this unknown outing, perhaps out of a man’s ingrained need to “look presentable” when going outside, he opened the wardrobe and carefully selected a beige student outfit.
The clothes accentuated his slim figure and pure aura, and with his doll-like, innocent face, he exuded the invincible freshness of a student.
In truth, had Kaoru followed the normal path, he would have been in college at this age, enjoying the simple, bright days of campus life in a similar uniform—not trapped in this mire of desire and coercion.
When Kaoru, head down, shuffled out of the bedroom, Rika Kawasaki—waiting in the foyer—couldn’t help but let her eyes light up at the sight, a glimmer of surprise flickering in her grey gaze.
It was, after all, the first time she’d seen Kaoru so well-dressed and styled.
When he worked at the Kawasaki Family Izakaya, he’d worn only basic T-shirts and slacks before changing into a yukata—nothing remarkable.
Now, he looked like a jewel wiped clean, fragile yet radiant.
Yet the beautiful owner of that radiance wore a miserable expression, brows furrowed, no hint of joy for going out, only a thick, unshakable worry.
He even went so far as to dig out a pure White Mask and put it on carefully, covering most of his exquisite features, leaving only his anxious, tear-bright eyes exposed.
Next, he grabbed a light Sun Hat from the rack, pulling the brim low to hide even more.
He was terrified—afraid that acquaintances, neighbors might recognize him on the street. That would be a disaster.
Rika Kawasaki silently watched his skittish attempts at concealment.
For once, she made no mocking remark, didn’t taunt or block him as she usually did with words like “What are you afraid of?” or “I want everyone to see.”
She just watched, a complex emotion flickering again in her eyes.
When Kaoru was finally “fully armed,” standing stiff as a porcelain doll in the foyer, Rika Kawasaki stepped forward, and quite naturally slipped an arm around his slim waist— so slender it was almost insubstantial, even through the fabric.
Her grip wasn’t gentle, still carrying her signature possessiveness, but… perhaps less harsh than usual.
“Let’s go.”
She said only this, and half-embraced, half-guided him as she opened the door.
They stepped out of the apartment building and onto the morning street. The sun was bright, the air fresh, the shops along the street opening for the day, with an occasional early-rising housewife or office worker passing by.
The instant Kaoru Hoshitani felt the outside air and sunlight, his whole body went rigid as stone. He was so tense he could feel every gaze prickling like needles.
Time and again, he tried to squirm free from Rika Kawasaki’s arm around his waist, desperate to increase the distance between them.
He kept his head low, wishing he could bury his face in his collar. In his heart, he despaired—this blonde woman was determined to torment and humiliate him.
How could she possibly let him hide, give him any breathing room in a place where they might be seen?
It had to be deliberate—a calculated exposure, forcing him to bear the slow execution of moral judgment.
But what happened next was nothing like Kaoru expected. The hand at his waist didn’t clamp down like a shackle.
When he instinctively struggled again, desperate with shame and fear, the arm… loosened.
Just like that, it let go.
The pressure vanished, leaving only the faint warmth and sensation of someone else lingering on the fabric.
Kaoru stumbled, caught off-guard, nearly losing his balance. In disbelief, he peeked sideways, under the brim of his hat and above his mask, at the tall, blonde woman beside him.
But Rika Kawasaki had already withdrawn her hand, tucking both into the pockets of her denim jacket.
As he’d wished, she now walked ahead of him, like any ordinary passerby.