Takuma Shippou was, by nature, a creature of perpetual discontent. Or, at the very least, that was the only version of him Maki Kowamura had ever seen. Even when he recounted winning the top spot on the entrance exams and being selected as the freshman representative, his face had never once betrayed a hint of genuine satisfaction.
Tonight, however, his scowl was deeper than usual. He likely believed he was maintaining his usual stoic mask, but to Maki, the truth was written in broad strokes across his features. As a professional actress—one who had claimed the title of the industry's top young talent not through mere beauty, but through the uncanny ability to project every nuance of love, hate, and desire onto the screen—Maki's eyes were impossible to deceive.
"Takuma. I haven't had dinner yet. Would you mind keeping me company for a light snack?"
"At this hour? Isn't that bad for your complexion?"
"That's why I said 'light.' It's almost ready; let me go get it."
Giving him a silent 'plus point' for not saying something actually offensive like 'You'll get fat,' Maki retreated into the dining room. She returned with a platter of hors d'oeuvres—thinly sliced baguettes topped with prosciutto, salmon, tomatoes, and avocado. It looked light enough, though the actual caloric count was a secret she intended to keep.
She waited until Takuma had polished off nearly the entire plate of "light snacks" before she spoke, her voice assuming the tone of a "magnanimous older sister." Normally, Takuma was loath to show any sign of weakness, but tonight, for some reason, he was unusually talkative.
It was at this exact moment that Kyouko switched the audio output to the car's speakers.
"…I see. So that's what happened. You must have been so frustrated, Takuma."
"I wasn't frustrated! It wasn't a fair fight from the start! If we'd kept going, I would have won!"
"Of course you would have, Takuma. By all rights, the victory should have been yours. You deserved the prestige and the praise of a winner. The fact that it didn't turn out that way… well, it was simply a stroke of bad luck."
"Bad luck…?"
"Yes. They say luck is a part of one's skill, but that's a lie. A truly talented person wins in the end regardless of luck, but individual, small skirmishes? Those can be swayed by chance. Even I've had roles stolen from me simply because the timing was off. So it's alright, Takuma. Yesterday was just a fluke. Your entire future won't be dictated by such a trivial loss."
"You really think so…?"
"I know so. Now, cheer up."
Maki took Takuma's hand and guided it onto her lap. While "honey traps" were generally beneath her, the sight of a vulnerable Takuma stirred a certain mischievous impulse within her.
Slowly, she guided his palm from her knee up toward her thigh. She was wearing a loose, front-opening one-piece dress. While the skirt was long, the neckline was daringly low, and the fabric was so thin it was practically translucent. The warmth of her skin through the silk began to strip away what little remained of Takuma's frayed self-restraint.
Suddenly, Takuma jerked his hand away, breaking her hold—only to immediately seize both of her shoulders. As he pinned her down, Maki offered only the most perfunctory, token resistance.
In the surveillance car, Kyouko Fujibayashi let out a low, entertained whistle as she listened to the humid exchange over the wiretap.
"My, my. Things are certainly taking an intense turn."
"This might actually be quite convenient," Tatsuya remarked, his tone bone-dry.
"Oh? And what exactly are you plotting?" Kyouko asked, her face lit with genuine, curious amusement.
"The media has been in an uproar lately over female celebrities involved in the solicitation of minors," Tatsuya replied flatly.
"...Blackmail?" Sanada chimed in.
"I don't see why we shouldn't utilize the press for our own ends occasionally."
Sanada, a man capable of dreaming up the most atrocious mechanical traps when technology was involved, looked at Tatsuya with a slightly twitching expression. "I'm impressed you could come up with something that devious so quickly."
"If we wait for the act to be completed, the damage to the school's reputation might be too great to use as a bargaining chip," Tatsuya proposed, entirely unfazed by their reactions. "Let's move in while it's still at the stage of an 'attempt.'"
Inside the apartment, even as she was being pressed down by Takuma, Maki noticed something was wrong. The sliding glass door to the balcony was opening with a faint, metallic click. This was impossible; the door was locked. Furthermore, the balcony was equipped with security sensors set to the highest legal limit of deterrent force.
"Someone! Help! A burglar!"
The alarms remained silent. Her bodyguards hadn't reacted. Maki shoved Takuma aside, a cold dread washing over her as she regretted relying on the sensors instead of closing the heavy security shutters.
"Takuma!?"
Takuma tumbled off her and spun toward the window, but before he could even register the intruder's silhouette, a sharp impact slammed into his face, and he crumpled to the floor.
Maki, recognizing the method, reflexively covered her mouth with her sleeve. It was a sponge ball loaded with a hyper-potent, fast-acting sedative—a device she had seen used as a prop on set, though this one was clearly the real thing.
Standing by the window was a figure draped in black, wearing a specialized flight suit that resembled the folded wings of a bat. He looked like a phantom pulled from an old monster movie.
"My Lady, are you unharmed!?"
Just as Maki identified the masked intruder, her two female bodyguards burst into the living room. Seeing the "phantom" discard his flight wings, they lunged at him with practiced lethality.
The intruder didn't move. He met their charge head-on. Despite being highly trained professionals, the guards were useless against him; he neutralized them both with a series of efficient, effortless strikes that left them incapacitated in seconds.
Then, the phantom turned his gaze slowly toward Maki. He didn't spare even a glance for the unconscious Takuma lying at his feet.
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