In the end, she just said it directly: "I've run into trouble. I need money. Five million yen."
She didn't explain why.
Because she was talking to Mutsumi—with her, she didn't need lengthy explanations. She just needed to tell Mutsumi what she needed.
After she spoke, the line went silent for a long time.
"Mutsumi?" Sakiko was puzzled by the silence.
It was only five million. Shouldn't that be easy for the Wakaba family?
After a long wait.
Mutsumi finally spoke again, her voice carrying a note of apology and difficulty. "I'm sorry, Sakiko. My family has been... going through some things lately."
"I can only come up with about two hundred thousand right now." Mutsumi's voice was full of regret. "I'm really sorry."
Only two hundred thousand?
Hearing that number, disappointment washed over Sakiko's face.
For a massive debt of five million, it was barely a drop in the bucket.
But Mutsumi would never lie to her.
If she said two hundred thousand was all she had, then that was really all.
"...I understand."
Sakiko's voice betrayed no emotion.
Disappointed? Of course.
But there was no time to dwell on it. She had to gather five million within twenty-four hours, or those men from earlier...
Sakiko's expression tensed.
She didn't know who they were working for. She didn't even know that Toyokawa Sadaharu had been hospitalized in critical condition.
Despite being a young lady, she was sheltered and naive.
Her understanding and mental fortitude were that of an ordinary high school girl.
"Thank you, Mutsumi. I don't need the two hundred thousand after all." She spoke calmly. "Sorry for troubling you."
Without giving Mutsumi a chance to respond, Sakiko ended the call.
"..." Mutsumi's voice disappeared from the phone.
In the living room.
Sakiko fell into thought.
Relying on others was useless.
So then...
Her gaze drifted to the man curled up in the corner.
He was the root cause of all this.
But he was also her father.
The 16.8 billion yen loss had been devastating. He'd been expelled from the Toyokawa family. But with enough encouragement, surely he could get back on his feet?
Even if there was only a sliver of hope, she wanted to try.
Sakiko stood and walked over to her father.
"Dad." She spoke gently.
"Mm...?" Toyokawa Kiyotsugu lifted his head groggily. His clouded eyes were full of fear and confusion. "Sakiko... are they... are they gone?"
"Yes, they're gone."
"Thank god... thank god..." He collapsed with relief.
"Father!" Sakiko raised her voice. "Tomorrow! They'll be back tomorrow! Five million in interest! What are we going to do about it?"
"I... I don't know..." Toyokawa Kiyotsugu clutched his head, moaning in agony. "What can I possibly do? I have nothing left... It's all their fault! They're the ones who ruined me! If it weren't for them..."
He started repeating his usual complaints.
Sakiko cut him off. "Father, pull yourself together!"
"Find a job!"
"If you don't work and earn money, nothing will ever change!"
Kiyotsugu's eyes darted away, but quickly flared with defensive anger. "What does a student like you know?!"
"Father?" Sakiko was stunned.
"I'm carrying so much on my shoulders!" Kiyotsugu staggered to his feet, glaring at Sakiko. "You've had it easy your whole life—you couldn't possibly understand!"
With that, he pushed past Sakiko and stormed out of the apartment.
"How could this..." Sakiko stared at her father's retreating back in disbelief. There was no trace of the patient, gentle man he used to be.
Her hopes for her father crumbled along with him.
Sakiko stood in silence, then left the apartment as well.
The late-night streets were empty and cold.
Sakiko walked aimlessly.
Mutsumi couldn't help. Her father was useless...
That left only one place.
The Toyokawa main family!
She'd left the Toyokawa family of her own will, and now she'd have to go back and beg them. It was no different from humiliating herself.
But she had to go.
If she couldn't gather the five million, who knew what would happen?
She might be in danger too!
So...
An hour later, a taxi stopped outside the gate of the Toyokawa family's estate mansion.
Sakiko paid the fare and stood before the gate.
She straightened her somewhat disheveled school uniform, squared her shoulders, and pressed the doorbell.
After a long wait, an elderly voice came through the intercom.
"Who is it?"
It was the voice of butler Ito.
"Butler Ito, it's me, Sakiko." Sakiko quickly spoke.
The line went silent for a long time.
Then Butler Ito's voice returned—this time cold and distant.
"Young miss, you should know that without the master's permission, neither you nor your father may set foot here."
"I know." Sakiko felt an invisible hand squeeze her heart, but her voice remained steady. "I'm not trying to come back. I just... need money for something."
"Heh..." A mocking laugh came through the intercom. "Young miss, don't you understand what your father did? The Toyokawa family only expelled him—that was already generous!"
"But we can't possibly pay that much back!" Sakiko cried desperately.
"That is a matter between the young miss and your father. As a mere servant, it's not my place to comment." Butler Ito's voice dripped with impatience. "Young miss, if there's nothing else, please leave. Don't make things difficult for everyone."
"I need five million!" Sakiko finally lost her composure, pleading into the intercom. "Please! Just five million!"
But the response was even colder.
"Young miss, are you joking?" Butler Ito's voice was full of mockery. "What position are you in to negotiate with the Toyokawa family now?"
Click—
The intercom was abruptly disconnected.
The world went suddenly quiet.
Sakiko's hand, still pressing the call button, froze in mid-air.
How could this be?
She stared blankly at the tightly shut iron gates before her.
Beyond them were warm, bright lights—everything she once had.
Outside was the bitter cold of night, and a girl with nowhere left to turn.
One gate. Two worlds.
A crushing wave of despair crashed over her like a tsunami.
She didn't know that with Toyokawa Sadaharu's critical illness, the branch family members had moved with lightning speed. The Toyokawa mansion was now under their control.
"What am I supposed to do?"
Sakiko lowered her hand and turned, walking aimlessly.
Before she knew it.
She found herself at the Shibuya crossing. Looking up, she saw a massive advertising screen playing a business interview.
On the screen, Seiji faced the camera, speaking eloquently.
"...In my view, business is exchange. Using the smallest cost to obtain the greatest value..."
Sakiko watched Seiji's face on the screen and slowly let out a cold, self-mocking laugh.
Exchange, huh?
How well put.
She pulled out her phone. There was a message from an unknown number—sent when she'd encountered Seiji before.
It was his number.
She had no idea when he'd gotten hold of hers.
Sakiko silently brought up the number.
"Five million, huh?" she murmured softly.
The cold glow of the screen illuminated her bloodless yet heart-stoppingly beautiful face.
Her eyes no longer held a supplicant's humility, nor a victim's rage.
There was only a clear, cold determination.
"That's right."
"Right now, I'm just merchandise."
"You want my body? What a disgusting demand! Fine—if you want it so badly, take it!"
Sakiko took a deep breath and dialed the number.
The cold ringing echoed in her ear. The call was answered quickly.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice came through—calm, polite, yet with a businesslike detachment. It was Megumi.
"I'm looking for Seiji Fujiwara." Sakiko's voice was like a stone dropped into a still lake—she tried to stay calm, but couldn't quite hide the faint tremor.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No." Sakiko paused. "Tell him I'm Sakiko Toyokawa."
Silence on the other end for a few seconds. Sakiko could hear her own breathing grow heavy with tension, each heartbeat pounding in her ears.
"Please hold."
Those few seconds of waiting felt like an eternity. Her palm, gripping the phone, was slick with cold sweat. The icy device seemed to burn into her skin.
Soon, a different voice came through the receiver.
It was that man's voice—lazy, magnetic, carrying a knowing smile.
"Toyokawa-san. Looks like you've made your decision."
He didn't ask who she was or why she was calling. As if he'd known from the beginning that she would call.
That feeling of being completely seen through sent a chill down Sakiko's spine.
"Where are you?" Sakiko ignored his words and asked directly.
"Ellington Tower." Seiji gave the address. "I'll be waiting."
The call ended.
Sakiko stood in the middle of Shibuya's chaotic intersection. Around her was the din of crowds and the glare of neon, but it all seemed cut off from her.
Her world contained only that cold address.
Ellington Apartments, huh?
Sakiko pocketed her phone, her expression going blank, drained of all feeling.
She turned and walked into the subway station. In the train car window, her reflection stared back—pale, hollow—like a soulless doll.
Like a condemned prisoner taking her first step toward hell.
Half an hour later, a doorbell rang at the penthouse of Ellington Tower.
Megumi answered the door.
She wore professional secretary attire, her face bearing a flawless, practiced smile as she calmly regarded Sakiko standing in the doorway.
"Toyokawa-san, Fujiwara-sensei is expecting you."
Sakiko said nothing. She simply followed silently behind Megumi.
The thick wool carpet swallowed their footsteps. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, all of Tokyo's glittering night skyline spread out before them. A faint scent of incense hung in the air.
Everything here stood in stark contrast to her shabby rental apartment.
In the center of the living room, Seiji sat casually on the sofa, watching Sakiko enter with interest.
His gaze held appreciation—like he was examining a newly acquired collectible.
Sakiko stopped in the middle of the room and met his eyes.
Her uniform was wrinkled, her long pale blue hair somewhat disheveled, her face written with exhaustion and humiliation. But her eyes were strangely bright.
The eyes of a lone wolf trapped in a snare.
Filled with rage, defiance, and a readiness to fight to the death.
She was like a string pulled to its limit—seemingly calm, but already teetering at the edge of a cliff.
"You came?" Seiji swirled his wine glass and broke the silence.
Sakiko didn't answer. She just stared at him with cold eyes.
"I need money." She got straight to the point, her voice hoarse.
"I know." Seiji smiled, picking up a document he'd prepared beforehand and pushing it toward her.
It was a scholarship loan agreement.
"Take a look."
Sakiko stepped forward, picked up the contract, and scanned through it.
The terms weren't complicated.
Essentially—
Party A: Seiji Fujiwara.
Party B: Toyokawa Sakiko.
From the date this contract takes effect, Party A will pay Party B five million yen per month as "living expenses."
The price wasn't written in there.
But it didn't need to be.
Because this contract was meaningless in itself. With Seiji's methods, contract or no contract, he could force her to fulfill the terms of the deal.
"I'll sign it."
Sakiko quickly picked up a pen and wrote her name in the Party B space.
Toyokawa Sakiko
After signing, she picked up the ink pad beside her and pressed her right thumb next to her name.
That crimson fingerprint, like a drop of glaring blood, announced the end of something—and the beginning of a new life of humiliation.
Having done all this, she pushed the contract back to Seiji.
"Now can I have the money?" Her voice held no emotion. "I need five million before tomorrow."
"Money isn't a problem."
Seiji picked up the contract, glanced through it casually, then set it aside.
He stood and walked slowly toward Sakiko. He stood more than a head taller than her, his massive shadow casting an oppressive presence that completely enveloped her.
"However, before we fulfill the contract," his gaze began to roam shamelessly over her body.
Her beautiful face. Her slender figure hugged by her school uniform.
"I need to inspect the goods, don't I?"
Inspect the goods?
The words made Sakiko flush with humiliation.
But the contract was already signed. She couldn't leave now.
"How exactly do you plan to 'inspect'?" Sakiko asked through gritted teeth.
"Simple."
A teasing smile appeared on Seiji's face.
He reached out, his fingertips tracing lightly across Sakiko's cheek, then trailing downward, brushing her slender neck, feeling her pulse racing beneath her skin from tension, before finally coming to rest on her uniform blouse buttons.
His movements were slow, carrying a sense of wanton dominance.
Sakiko's body went rigid as stone.
She could feel the warmth from his fingertips—alien and repellent.
But she forced herself to stand still, motionless, letting Seiji do as he pleased.
"Excellent figure. Enough to hold my interest."
Seiji spent over ten minutes on his inspection before finally withdrawing his hand and stepping back to look her over again.
"But through clothes, I can't see clearly." His voice was flat, like evaluating merchandise. "Take them off."
"Wh-what?" Sakiko's face was full of shock.
"I said," Seiji's eyes turned cold and sharp, "take off all your clothes. I need to inspect whether my 'asset' is intact."
Boom!
Sakiko's mind felt struck by lightning.
She stared at the man before her in disbelief, her body swaying, almost losing her balance.
Strip? Here?
In front of him?
Like an object, to be inspected by him?
No... I can't...
Her heart screamed and howled.
But she saw the finality in Seiji's eyes. She thought of her father at home, the debt collectors who would arrive tomorrow, the contract she'd just signed with her crimson thumbprint.
Did she have any choice left?
None. Not anymore.
Resistance would only bring deeper humiliation.
Sakiko lowered her head. In her eyes flashed struggle, flashed pain, flashed despair... until finally, all those violent emotions settled into an empty calm.
She slowly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, those beautiful amber irises held no light.
"...I understand."
Sakiko spoke coldly, raising her hand to undo the first button of her school uniform blouse.
Her movements were slow and stiff, as if what she was removing wasn't clothing, but layer after layer of skin, dignity, and soul.
Her blouse slipped off, revealing her delicate collarbones.
Then her skirt—cold air immediately wrapped around her thighs.