Leaving the gym.
Seiji took a shower, changed into a fresh set of clothes, and returned to the main villa.
It was already past seven in the morning.
Breakfast was neatly set out on the dining table.
Utaha sat gracefully at the table, a black silk slip dress draped elegantly over her frame. Her long, pale legs crossed casually under the sunlight, glowing faintly like polished ivory.
The sound of the door opening caught her attention.
She lifted her lashes, her wine-red eyes settling on Seiji.
"Seems last night's 'overtime' was quite exhausting," Utaha said with a lazy, knowing smile. "And yet you still have the energy for morning training… truly impressive, President Fujiwara."
She deliberately emphasized the words "overtime" and "president."
Seiji chuckled. With Utaha's sharp mind, she must've already pieced together most of what happened last night, even without seeing it herself.
He wasn't planning to hide it, anyway.
He walked up to her, brushed his lips over her silky hair, and then sat down across from her.
"As president, having good stamina is part of the job," he said shamelessly, taking a slice of toast. "After all, I have to handle both company business and... private affairs at home. Can't slack off on either."
"Oh?" Utaha closed her book, her lips curving with amusement. "Then I suppose I should thank Hiratsuka-sensei for helping you share some of that 'workload,' hmm?"
"You could put it that way." Seiji calmly spread butter on his toast. "After all, I'd hate to let exhaustion keep me from giving our dear first lady proper attention."
"Smooth talker," Utaha huffed lightly, though the smile in her eyes deepened.
She wasn't angry. In fact, she'd long seen this coming.
Hiratsuka Shizuka's involvement only proved what she already knew — that the man before her was exceptional.
And her role wasn't to sulk like some ordinary woman.
It was to think about how, in this ever-expanding "harem game," she could maintain her irreplaceable position.
Just then, footsteps came thudding down the stairs.
Eriri appeared, wearing a cute pink bunny pajama set, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Her messy blonde hair made her look like a drowsy little animal that had just crawled out of bed.
"Morn… morning," she mumbled with a yawn.
"Good morning, Second Lady," Seiji teased.
"Wh–who's your second lady?!" Eriri exploded immediately, her face flushing bright red.
But her little burst of fury fizzled out the moment Seiji shot her that teasing half-smile. She quickly looked away, cheeks burning, and hurried to the table. Grabbing her milk, she gulped it down like it could hide her embarrassment.
Seiji and Utaha exchanged amused glances.
And so, breakfast went on in an easy, pleasant mood.
Halfway through, Eriri reached for a jar of jam on the counter, but the new lid had been screwed on impossibly tight. She strained with all her might, her face turning red, but it wouldn't budge.
"Ugh! What kind of stupid jar is this!" she grumbled.
Utaha tried too, only to fail just as miserably.
"Here, let me."
Seiji took the jar from Eriri's hands. Holding it with one hand, he casually pressed his fingers to the lid—then gave a light twist.
Pop.
The stubborn lid that had defeated both girls came off effortlessly.
Smooth. Natural. Like it was nothing at all.
"..."
"..."
Utaha and Eriri both froze. They stared at each other, eyes wide with disbelief.
"Your strength's… that strong?" Eriri asked dumbly.
Sure, guys were stronger than girls, but just fingers? That seemed a bit much.
"Maybe that 'overtime' last night unlocked my hidden strength," Seiji said casually, handing her the open jar.
It was a tiny moment, nothing more than a breakfast quirk — yet Seiji felt a flicker of satisfaction. Showing off his power in little, everyday ways like this... it thrilled him.
After breakfast, he didn't lounge around watching TV or playing games with the girls as usual.
Instead, he brewed himself a cup of tea and sat in the main seat on the sofa, his expression turning serious.
Utaha and Eriri immediately sensed the shift in atmosphere. They both stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
"The opening ceremony's done. Now it's time for Creation to start real work," Seiji said calmly, a faint authority in his tone. "I've decided on our company's first project."
At the word project, Eriri's eyes lit up instantly.
"What kind of project? Something epic like A Certain Magical Index?" she asked eagerly.
Utaha stayed quiet, but her curious gaze said enough.
Seiji smiled, deliberately drawing out the suspense.
"It's going to be an original anime."
"Original?!" both girls exclaimed in unison.
Original animation was far riskier than adapting an existing hit. For Seiji to lead with such a bold move... it was unexpected.
"That's right," Seiji nodded. "A magical girl anime."
"A… magical girl one?" Eriri looked stunned. That sounded way too childish. Totally out of sync with current trends.
Even Utaha frowned slightly. With Seiji's talent, why pick such an outdated genre?
But Seiji's lips curled into a mysterious smile.
"You're misunderstanding," he said slowly. "I'm not talking about some fairy tale full of love and hope for little kids."
"I'm talking about a dark fairy tale — one for adults — about hope and despair."
His voice carried a quiet power, instantly seizing both girls' attention.
"The story's core will be brutal. It'll deconstruct every illusion people have about magical girls — the cost of wishes, the cruelty behind heroism…"
"I'm calling it—"
He paused, meeting their eyes.
"Puella Magi Madoka Magica."
The room fell silent.
A dark, despair-filled magical girl anime? Unheard of.
Yet both Utaha and Eriri felt a thrill of excitement burning inside them.
As their minds raced, Seiji's gaze swept over them.
"Would you two be interested in joining the project?"
He looked to Utaha. "Utaha, you can help with the script."
Then to Eriri. "And you, Eriri — I want you on the key animation team."
"The company has plenty of experienced industry veterans. You'll learn a lot."
Both girls' hearts skipped a beat.
It was an opportunity most people spent five or even ten years chasing — and it was right in front of them.
"I… I'm in!" Eriri said firmly, eyes blazing.
Utaha smiled. "Of course I wouldn't miss something this interesting."
"Good. I'll have you both assigned soon," Seiji said with a grin.
Being the boss had its perks — one phone call and his two "connections" would be on the team.
…
After settling things at home, Seiji boarded a flight to Tokyo. He was meeting with a headhunter to recruit professionals for Genesis Animation.
Meanwhile—
Tokyo, Setagaya Ward.
Inside a large, high-end mansion.
Though luxurious, the place felt lifeless — cold as a tomb.
Ryo Yamada sat curled up on the couch, blankly staring at the chandelier above.
Sunlight streamed through the tall glass windows, illuminating every speck of dust floating in the air.
A year ago, a sudden fire had devoured both her parents' hospital and their lives. What followed were malicious accusations from competitors and a crushing mountain of debt.
Yesterday, the bank had come again, leaving a final notice.
The mansion she'd grown up in would be auctioned off next week to pay creditors.
Even then, the remaining debt was astronomical — utterly beyond her means.
Soon, she wouldn't even have money to live, let alone go to school.
"No money for rent... guess I'll be staying at a net café," she muttered.
She pulled a few crumpled blades of grass from her pocket and chewed them.
The bitter taste only deepened the bitterness in her heart.
"So this is what it means to literally eat grass," Ryo sighed.
She sat motionless for a long time before finally rising like a puppet with its strings cut. Slinging her bass over her back, she stepped out of the house that would no longer be hers.
She wandered aimlessly, her legs moving on autopilot — until she found herself standing before a familiar place:
"STARRY" Livehouse, Shimokitazawa.
"Oh right... I still have my part-time job," Ryo murmured, rubbing her face as if to shake off exhaustion.
She hadn't told anyone about her family's situation — not even Nijika.
There was no point.
That kind of debt... no one could help.
"They'll find out eventually, but... I'll hide it for a little longer."
She took a deep breath and was about to push the door open—
When a sleek black car drove past.
The window rolled down, revealing the sharp profile of a young, handsome man.
Ryo froze.
Seiji.
The eighteen-year-old prodigy she'd seen in the papers.
Her heart thudded violently.
Inside the car, Seiji didn't notice her. He only glanced outside, his gaze briefly catching on the "STARRY" sign.
For a second, something flickered in his eyes — interest.
"Bocchi the Rock, huh…" he thought, remembering the show from his past life.
Shame. I've got a headhunter meeting today — business first.
I'll come by later.
He turned away, and the car drove off, disappearing around the corner.
It had lasted only seconds.
But for Ryo Yamada, those seconds were like lightning splitting open her dark, suffocating world.
Her heart began to stir.
Should she… go find him?
The thought made her whole body tremble.
Shame, fear, and a strange, unfamiliar excitement tangled inside her.
But soon, she forced herself calm.
Even if she did that — what could she possibly offer?
Would it change anything?
Could it erase the debt?
Ryo stood frozen on the spot.
Then the Livehouse door opened, and Nijika's bright voice called out:
"Ryo! What are you spacing out for? Come on, practice is starting!"
Ryo let herself be pulled inside — into the warm, familiar underground studio.
Her dark thoughts faded for now.
Every afternoon, she came here to practice with Nijika — one on bass, the other on drums — chasing the dream of forming a band, performing live, maybe even becoming famous.
Practice soon began.
Ryo pushed everything else from her mind and focused on her playing.
Clang!
Her fingers flew across the strings, her body moving instinctively in perfect rhythm.
Nijika, as always, played with boundless energy.
The sound of drums and bass intertwined in the small rehearsal room.
During a break, Nijika plopped down on the floor, eyes sparkling with dreams.
"This school year, we have to find more members for the band!"
"Then we can play at music festivals, release albums, go on tour— and finally perform at Budokan!"
Ryo fell silent.
She looked at her friend's bright smile and thought of her own bleak, collapsing life. Guilt and frustration clenched her chest.
No.
She didn't want to give up.
And she didn't want Nijika's dream to die because of her.
Ryo quietly tightened her fists.
So… she'd take the gamble.
Her life was already ruined. What was there to lose?
Her eyes narrowed with resolve.
After practice, she didn't linger like usual to bum drinks — she was the first to leave the Livehouse.
…
Back at the cold, empty mansion, Ryo pulled out an old newspaper.
Spreading it across the floor, she stared intently at the article.
In the photo, Seiji smiled confidently, effortlessly charming. On his left stood a sultry black-haired beauty with icy composure; on his right, a blonde twin-tailed girl with proud, tsundere elegance.
Both leaned close to him, naturally intimate.
Ryo's eyes gleamed.
"Pretty much confirms it…" she murmured.
Seiji was a man who didn't hide his desires — an open, honest playboy.
And for her, that was perfect.
A man surrounded by women rarely refused one who came to him willingly — especially if she was a "rare type" unlike anyone in his harem.
That meant her plan... might actually work.
She felt a strange calm.
Reading the article again, she searched for clues.
"'Recruiting elite talents for Genesis Animation…'"
"'Fujiwara's Tokyo trip aims to secure top creative staff for future projects…'"
Her gaze froze on one phrase — headhunting company.
A spark flashed through her mind.
If he was there to recruit, then either he or his agent would likely show up near Tokyo's top headhunting firms.
If she waited there… she might meet him.
It was a long shot.
But it was all she had.
…
The next morning, Ryo Yamada didn't go to school.
She had a different destination in mind.
...
...