“Stay close behind him, don’t lose him for even a second. The top priority is to find out that man’s identity! Name, age, background, social connections… all the details you can get! I need to know who he really is and what exactly his relationship with my sister is!”
“Understood, Miss Ayase. The target vehicle is still in sight. We have two cars tailing alternately and won’t lose them. Identity investigation will begin immediately. We’ll report to you as soon as there’s any progress.”
The voice on the other end of the phone was steady, professional—an experienced detective.
“Good. Keep in touch.”
Chinatsu Ayase ended the call curtly.
Silence returned to the stairwell. Only the faint echo of her slightly hurried breathing lingered against the cold concrete walls.
She didn’t leave right away. Instead, she lit up her phone screen again, her fingertip gently zooming in on the photo of the two people kissing in the sports car.
Her gaze locked onto the man’s face, revealed only in a delicate profile, then swept across Rika Kawasaki’s posture—possessive and intense, even through the blur.
Gradually, a strange smile curled on Chinatsu Ayase’s lips—a smile that mingled the thrill of uncovering a secret with a cold, almost malicious delight.
It was utterly unlike her usual sweet expression, as if the mask she’d always worn had finally cracked, revealing something twisted and true beneath.
Staring at her phone, she whispered softly, every word distinct, in a voice only she could hear:
“So… Sister, you do have things you ‘love,’ things you ‘care’ about this much, don’t you…”
Her eyes grew sharp as needles, as if piercing the screen and seeing some future, delightful scene.
“If I… find him, and then… take him away from you…”
She paused, picturing the expression her sister—who always looked at her with that air of indifference, as if nothing in the world mattered—might wear if she lost something precious.
She imagined the moment she rode atop the man her sister cherished, forcing him to completely surrender to her, and her sister witnessed it all—what kind of face would she make then?
Shock? Fury? Collapse? Or would that eternally cold, uncaring face finally show a vivid, defeated emotion—one belonging to a ‘loser’?
“I wonder if you’ll finally understand how it feels when something I treasure dearly is worthless in someone else’s eyes?”
“I bet you’ve never experienced the agony of wanting something you can never have, Sister…”
“And when that day comes… I wonder if, for once, you’ll actually… cry?”
The childish cruelty in her whisper, mingled with a long-suppressed, twisted anticipation, dissolved into the stairwell’s cold air.
She put away her phone, adjusted the collar and hair that weren’t even messy, and the strange smile faded instantly.
In its place was once more the impeccable, gentle mask of ‘Chinatsu Ayase.’
She pushed open the fire door and walked back into the bright, bustling office corridor with measured steps, as if that moment of darkness had never existed at all.
—————
Ginza.
The dazzling, beating heart of Tokyo Metropolis, where neon and modernity entwined in their ultimate form.
On both sides of the wide streets, an endless parade of department stores and flagship brand shops rose skyward in every imaginable shape and dazzling brilliance.
Within the massive glass displays sat garments and treasures so beautiful, they seemed unearthly.
Even the air was thick with a mingled scent of money, fashion, and desire. Pedestrians hurried by in chic attire, faces carefully composed to project ease and superiority.
Here, almost every high-end luxury brand known to the world had set up their palatial stores, cold lights and minimalist décor weaving a silent, proud fortress—a Shopping Paradise built solely for the rich and for vanity.
Kaoru Hoshitani was no stranger to this glittering world.
He’d come here before, accompanying his girlfriend, Aina Saiten. The memories of that visit were a swirl of novelty tinged with unease.
He remembered Aina clinging to his arm, excitedly weaving through the dazzling array of shops. The brilliant lights made him dizzy.
In front of a men’s boutique famous for its exquisite tailoring and equally ‘exquisite’ prices, Aina had stopped, pointing at a soft, pale gray cashmere cardigan in the window, her eyes shining as she said, “Kaoru, you’d look amazing in that. Let’s go in and try it?”
He’d instantly seen the price tag, and his heart clenched. He shook his head quickly, forcing a smile. “No, Aina, it’s too expensive… Besides, I have enough clothes.”
He could still recall the flash of disappointment on her face, and the pang of guilt and powerlessness that stabbed at his heart.
And now, he was back in this place once again.
Outside, the glowing signs and elegant shoppers slipped past the window as before—but everything was different now.
He wasn’t walking arm-in-arm with Aina on the busy sidewalk, but sitting in the passenger seat of a sleek, eye-catching, bright blue sports car, the engine growling, drawing the eyes of every passerby.
The low, enclosed cabin was thick with the scents of leather, faint perfume, and… the unmistakable, predatory aura of the woman beside him.
The hands gripping the steering wheel didn’t belong to his beloved girlfriend, but to the yellow-haired woman who had dragged him into a nightmare—Rika Kawasaki.
The sports car, agile as a blue fish, glided into the entrance of an ultra-modern, glass-fronted shopping center’s underground parking area.
Suddenly, the bright daylight faded into a world of even, cool light. The air filled with the faint rubbery smell of tires and the unique, slightly oppressive chill of underground space.
The car had barely rolled into the spacious Parking Area and hadn’t fully stopped when a Service Attendant—dressed in a well-cut dark suit dress, makeup immaculate—hurried over with a professional smile.
She bent slightly at the driver’s side, and through the lowered window, spoke in a crisp, practiced voice:
“Good afternoon, ma’am. Welcome. We offer Valet Parking here. If you’d like, you may hand me your key.”
But Rika Kawasaki’s attention wasn’t wholly on the Service Attendant’s words. Her gray eyes sharply caught a small detail:
After finishing her standard greeting, the Service Attendant’s gaze almost reflexively slid past her, landing on the passenger seat.
And when she saw Kaoru Hoshitani’s face, fully exposed without a mask in the soft light, a clear, unguarded look of awe and dazed admiration flashed through her eyes—the kind of expression one wore upon seeing a beauty that defied the ordinary.
Though she quickly regained her composure, that fleeting lapse did not escape Rika Kawasaki.
In that instant, two utterly opposite emotions—ice and fire—rushed together in Rika’s chest.
On one hand, a pride that bordered on showmanship, the kind that only an owner could possess—look, this man, so beautiful, exquisite, a veritable masterpiece, is mine. He’s in my passenger seat, under my control.
The pleasure of silently ‘displaying’ and ‘competing’ with another woman was raw and direct.
On the other hand, a darker irritation swelled—the same feeling as having one’s territory intruded upon.
Even a fleeting look of awe in the Service Attendant’s eyes made her feel that her possession had been ‘touched’ or ‘assessed’ by someone else’s gaze.
So, in the brief silence as the Service Attendant waited for a reply, Rika Kawasaki made a move heavy with declaration.
Instead of answering about the parking, she moved her large, healthy, wheat-colored, well-jointed hand naturally—even lazily—and placed it firmly, possessively, on Kaoru Hoshitani’s thigh, beautifully shaped in light-colored slacks.
The heat of her palm seeped through the thin fabric.
Only then did she turn her head slightly to meet the Service Attendant’s gaze outside the window. Her gray pupils held no extraneous emotion, only a cool, unmistakable warning.
She spoke, her voice calm but with an unmistakable implication: “No need.”
She paused, letting her gaze linger—almost carelessly—over Kaoru Hoshitani’s flawless but tense profile before continuing,
“I’m not the type… who likes other people touching my things.”
[Things?]
That word, so heavy with objectification, stabbed into Kaoru Hoshitani’s ears like a barbed icicle.
How could he not understand the naked implication behind this devilish woman’s words—seeing him as her private property?
A surge of humiliation instantly drowned the unease he’d felt at being in such unfamiliar, ostentatious surroundings.
He whipped his head around, those deer-like eyes—always misty—now wide and blazing with anger and shame. He glared fiercely at Rika Kawasaki.
He didn’t want to say another word to her. He jerked his head toward the opposite window, refusing her touch and her words.
The movement exposed his beautiful, swan-like neck, the delicate curve thrown into sharp relief by the car’s lighting.
His Adam’s apple bobbed with suppressed emotion—a picture of vulnerability and defiance.
The Service Attendant outside took in every subtle exchange.
Her perfect professional smile froze for a split second, then resumed as if nothing had happened.
She gave a polite, nearly imperceptible nod, stepped back to clear the way, and said courteously, “Very well, ma’am. I hope you enjoy your shopping.”
She watched the ostentatious sports car glide deeper into the parking lot, a ripple of envy flickering through her heart:
[So this is what it’s like to be a ‘male companion’ for the rich… Do men this beautiful really exist in the world? He looks just like a doll… How envious—to have someone like that…]
Of course, neither of the two in the car could imagine what was running through the Service Attendant’s mind.
The sports car glided smoothly through the well-lit, clearly marked parking area and finally found an empty space in a relatively quiet corner, far from the entrance.
Rika Kawasaki skillfully turned the wheel, preparing to back into the space.
It was then, with lips pressed tight and eyes fixed on the cold concrete pillar outside, that Kaoru Hoshitani finally couldn’t contain himself.
His voice, trembling with suppressed fury, broke the suffocating silence in the cabin:
“You… How dare you call me your ‘thing’?”
He turned, glaring at Rika Kawasaki’s profile as she focused on parking, hostility and confusion blazing in his eyes.
“And dragging me to a place like this for no reason… What do you even want?”
Truth be told, ever since he’d been forced to change clothes and leave the house that morning, only to be brought all the way to Ginza, Kaoru Hoshitani’s unease and fear had been growing.
He even half-suspected that Rika Kawasaki might dump him somewhere remote, or worse—imprison him in some hidden place, never letting him return to Aina’s side.
That fear of the unknown was even worse than any suffering he’d already endured.
Rika Kawasaki didn’t answer right away. She seemed wholly absorbed in adjusting the rearview mirror and aligning the car within the lines.
Her movements were smooth, precise—she parked the sports car perfectly, with barely a hair’s breadth between the tires and the white lines.
The engine went silent, and the cabin was still but for the faintest whir of the AC.
With a soft click, she undid her seatbelt.
Only then did she turn, her whole body facing the passenger seat.
Her gray eyes, in the dim light of the parking garage, were like a predator’s in the dark—locking onto Kaoru Hoshitani’s face, which was even more pure and delicate for being flushed with emotion and indignation.
Her gaze seemed to slice through his angry mask, searching for the feelings buried beneath.
Within that gaze swirled a complex desire—conquest, possession, and a cruel, almost artistic kind of obsession.
“You…!”
Kaoru Hoshitani felt his heart lurch under the pressure of that straightforward, predatory stare. He instantly understood what she meant.
A burning flush raced from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He glared at her again, then fumbled hurriedly to unbuckle his seatbelt.
Click!
The sound of the buckle popping open was especially loud in the hush.
Desperate to escape the cramped, suffocating space filled with her scent, he reached for the door handle.
But just as his fingers touched the cold metal, his body already half-leaning out, one leg poised to exit—
A strong hand, unyielding as iron, shot out and seized his slender wrist!
Without even fully leaving the driver’s seat, thanks to her long arms and quick reflexes, Rika Kawasaki caught him—dragging Kaoru Hoshitani, who was already half out the door, back into the car’s leather-scented, danger-laden embrace!