Tomori forced her eyes open.
She watched that mouth that had once spoken gentle words, now wrapped around Seiji's thick shaft, moving with practiced skill.
The image was too overwhelming.
Sakiko's pale blue hair swayed as her head bobbed rhythmically. Her cheeks hollowed with each stroke, and the wet sounds of her worship filled the room.
It shattered every last illusion Tomori had about "purity," and ignited the fire of suppressed desire burning inside her.
So this is what falling feels like...
It doesn't hurt like I imagined.
Instead, there's a feeling of... complete release.
"Your turn."
After some time, Seiji pushed Sakiko away.
Sakiko wiped her mouth somewhat awkwardly, a thin strand of saliva still connecting her lips to his glistening length. She showed no anger. Instead, she seemed relieved at completing her task, moving aside to make room.
Tomori stood frozen in place, her eyes fixed on what Sakiko had been servicing. It was intimidating, flushed and rigid, far larger than anything she'd imagined.
"What? Still can't let go of your pride?"
Seiji narrowed his eyes, his tone turning cold. "If you can't do it, then go find that Anon girl and keep playing your little house games."
"No..."
At the mention of "Anon," Tomori shook her head violently.
She didn't want to go back.
Didn't want to return to that hypocritical world of light.
Tomori slowly sank to her knees.
Clumsily, she mimicked what Sakiko had just done and leaned forward. Her trembling lips parted, and she took him into her mouth.
The taste was foreign, musky and warm. She gagged at first, eyes watering, but Seiji's hand found the back of her head, guiding her gently.
"Relax your throat. Don't rush."
His voice was patient, almost kind.
Tomori obeyed, letting him set the pace. Slowly, the awkwardness faded. She found a rhythm, her tongue learning to move, her lips learning to seal.
"Good girl."
Those two words sent a shiver through her entire body.
...
That night, in Tomori's home, there was no piano, no guitar.
Only a more primal symphony.
Seiji laid Tomori on her own bed, the sheets she'd slept in alone for years. Sakiko knelt beside them, watching, occasionally guiding Tomori's hands or whispering instructions.
"It's okay. I was scared my first time too."
Sakiko's voice was gentle as she brushed hair from Tomori's flushed face.
Seiji positioned himself between Tomori's trembling thighs. She was still partially clothed, her school blouse unbuttoned, her skirt hiked up around her waist. Her underwear had been discarded somewhere on the floor.
"Look at me, Tomori."
His command was soft but absolute.
She met his eyes, and in that moment, he pushed forward.
"Ah—!"
The pain was sharp, tearing. Tomori's back arched off the bed, her fingers clawing at the sheets. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.
But Seiji didn't stop. He sank deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside her.
"Breathe."
Tomori gasped, chest heaving. The fullness was overwhelming, stretching her in ways she'd never imagined.
Sakiko leaned down and kissed her forehead. "The pain will pass. And then..."
She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.
Seiji began to move.
At first, each thrust brought a whimper of discomfort. But he was patient, adjusting his angle, his depth, reading her body's responses with expert precision.
And then something changed.
"Ah... ah..."
The whimpers transformed. Pain blurred into something else, something that made her hips twitch involuntarily, seeking more.
"There it is."
Seiji smiled and increased his pace.
Tomori's mind went blank. The anxiety that had plagued her for years, the self-loathing, the fear, all of it dissolved under the relentless rhythm of his hips.
"Cry out, Tomori."
He whispered in her ear. "Don't hold back. Your voice is a gift from heaven. Let it become real."
"Yes, just like that."
"Much better than when you're singing on stage."
Under the constant affirmation and praise, Tomori lost herself completely.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper. Her nails raked down his back, leaving red trails. Her voice, that beautiful voice that had once frozen in her throat whenever she tried to speak, now rang out in shameless abandon.
"Seiji...! More...! Please...!"
She didn't recognize herself anymore. Didn't want to.
This feeling of being filled, of being claimed, of belonging to someone absolutely, it was everything she'd been missing.
Sakiko watched from beside them, one hand between her own thighs, matching their rhythm. When Tomori reached out blindly, Sakiko took her hand and squeezed.
Their fingers intertwined.
"Together," Sakiko breathed. "We fall together."
Seiji drove into Tomori with increasing force, the bed frame slamming against the wall. Tomori's cries grew higher, more desperate, until finally—
"AHHH—!"
Her entire body convulsed. Her inner walls clamped down on him like a vice, pulsing and fluttering. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her, whiting out her vision.
And at that peak, Seiji buried himself to the hilt and released.
Tomori felt the hot flood fill her, and something in her mind simply... broke.
In the best possible way.
...
They didn't stop there.
Throughout the night, Seiji took Tomori again and again, in every position he could think of. On her back. On her knees. Pressed against the wall. Bent over her own desk.
Sometimes Sakiko joined, their bodies intertwining in configurations Tomori had never imagined. Sakiko taught her how to use her tongue, how to please and be pleased by another woman, all while Seiji watched with approval.
By the end, Tomori had lost count of how many times she'd climaxed. Her throat was raw from screaming. Her body was covered in marks, hickeys and bite marks and the red prints of gripping fingers.
She had never felt more alive.
...
Midnight.
Everything finally settled into stillness.
Tomori curled in Seiji's arms, her body aching in ways both painful and deeply satisfying. Traces of dried tears streaked her face, but the gloom that had always haunted her brow had miraculously vanished.
Her face held the serenity of one who had been thoroughly claimed.
"How do you feel?"
Seiji stroked her sweat-dampened hair, asking idly.
Tomori nuzzled against his palm like a docile kitten.
"Very... full."
Her voice was hoarse, barely recognizable. The price of hours of "singing." But she didn't mind. "My heart... is full too."
Seiji smiled with satisfaction.
...
Dawn.
Motes of dust danced in the shafts of light.
Tomori woke slowly, her body protesting every movement. The soreness ran deep, like her bones had been taken apart and reassembled. Every inch of skin seemed to remember being touched.
But strangely, the crushing anxiety that usually greeted her each morning was gone.
That feeling of being about to be swallowed by the world, that paralyzing uncertainty about where to go or what to do, it had all vanished. In its place was a heavy, grounding certainty.
I belong to someone now.
She stirred and found herself still wrapped in Seiji's arms. His embrace was firm, possessive even in sleep. The sensation of being held so completely made her feel impossibly safe.
"Awake?"
Seiji's voice came from above her head.
"Seiji..."
Tomori's voice was wrecked, scratchy and raw. The price of last night's excessive "vocalizations." But she didn't hate it. If anything, it felt like proof.
"Your voice is gone." Seiji reached down and pinched her cheek. The casual intimacy made her eyes flutter with contentment. "I like it though."
"Mm..."
Tomori nodded obediently, leaning into his touch like a spoiled cat.
She didn't need dignity anymore. She was Seiji Fujiwara's possession now. And that identity brought her more peace than eighteen years of trying to be human ever had.
Since I'm just an object, I don't need to think. I just need to be used. To be filled.
On the nearby sofa, Sakiko was already dressed.
She sat with perfect posture, back straight, though the exhaustion in her eyes was impossible to hide. Despite everything, she still maintained that air of refined elegance.
Sakiko watched the scene on the bed, a complicated mix of emotions flickering through her gaze: envy, self-mockery, and a strange kinship.
But soon, all of it was buried beneath calm.
"Seiji, it's getting late." Sakiko reminded him softly. "We still have school."
"Ah... school..."
At that word, Tomori's body instinctively tensed. School was where she'd been hurt. The reality she wanted to escape.
"Scared?"
Seiji rolled out of bed, completely unselfconscious about his naked form. He walked to Tomori's closet, casually picked out a uniform, and tossed it to her.
"Starting today, you're not alone anymore."
He buttoned his shirt while watching her, a teasing smirk on his lips. "As long as I'm here, no one can touch you. Not that annoying Anon Chihaya. Not the gossip. Nothing."
At the mention of Anon, Tomori's eyes dimmed for a moment, then went cold and empty.
"I understand."
She took the clothes and began to dress. Her movements were slow, but there was no more hesitation.
...
An hour later.
Haneoka Girls' Academy, front gate.
Anon Chihaya stood at the entrance like a ghost, massive dark circles under her eyes.
She hadn't slept all night.
Everything that happened at Tomori's apartment yesterday played on loop in her mind. That firmly shut security door. Tomori's ice-cold "Go away."
But she'd come anyway.
She refused to give up.
"Tomori... you'll come, right?"
Anon clutched her bag straps, eyes anxiously scanning the crowd.
Suddenly, a ripple of commotion spread through the students nearby.
The normally noisy school gate fell quiet.
A black sedan had pulled up to the most prominent spot at the entrance.
Students turned to stare, whispering among themselves.
Anon's heart plummeted.
The car door opened.
First to emerge was the man she despised with every fiber of her being: Seiji Fujiwara.
Next, from the passenger seat, came Sakiko Toyokawa. Still beautiful, still cold, but the scarf around her neck was wrapped tighter than usual, as if hiding something.
And finally...
The rear door opened.
When that familiar figure stepped out of the car, Anon felt the breath leave her lungs.
Tomori Takamatsu.
She wasn't walking with her head down anymore. Gone was that timid, shrinking posture.
She wore her uniform neatly, carried her bag properly. Her face was pale, but her eyes were terrifyingly calm.
She stood beside Seiji Fujiwara with a posture that spoke of...
Not coercion.
Not fear.
Complete submission.
"Tomori!"
Anon couldn't hold back anymore. Ignoring the stares around her, she rushed forward and blocked their path.
"Tomori! Are you okay?"
Anon's words tumbled out frantically as she reached for Tomori's hand.
But Tomori stepped back, avoiding her touch.
"Anon."
Tomori looked at her, eyes devoid of any ripple of emotion. "Please don't do this. You'll cause trouble for Seiji."
"Seiji?"
Anon froze.
She'd never heard Tomori address any man so... intimately.
That voice held none of its former fear of males. Instead, there was something protective?
"You... what did you call him?" Anon's voice trembled.
"Seiji."
Tomori repeated it, even tilting her body slightly to stand in front of Seiji Fujiwara, as if shielding him from Anon's accusations. "He is my... home."
"Home?!"
Anon felt the world spin. "What are you saying, Tomori?! Wake up!"
"Anon Chihaya."
Seiji finally spoke. He didn't seem angry at her confrontation. Instead, he smiled and shook his head.
He reached out and casually stroked Tomori's hair. Tomori not only didn't flinch, she leaned into his palm like a kitten, a trace of peaceful contentment crossing her features.
The image was more devastating than any words could be.
It shattered the last shred of hope in Anon's heart.
"Tomori doesn't need your salvation."
Seiji lowered his head, his voice dropping to a murmur only Anon could hear.
"Look. She chose hell herself. So what exactly is this little angel still clinging to?"
"Alright, go on in."
Seiji patted Tomori and Sakiko's backs. "Study hard. I'll pick you up after school."
"Yes."
Tomori and Sakiko answered in unison.
Then the two of them walked shoulder to shoulder through the school gates.
From start to finish, Tomori never looked at Anon again.
Anon stood rooted to the spot, expression blank.
A proud young lady. A socially anxious loner. Now they walked like a pair of tamed sisters, turning their backs for the same man.
The whispers of surrounding students crashed over her like waves, but Anon could no longer hear them.
All she felt was bone-deep cold.
The car door closed.
From the driver's seat, Seiji glanced at the pink-haired girl trembling in the wind and let out a soft laugh before starting the engine.
[Ding! Congratulations, Host. Successfully captured target: Tomori Takamatsu.]
[Received Phase One Reward: Absolute Pitch.]
Seiji felt the subtle shift in his hearing, the newfound clarity of every vibration, and smiled as he turned the steering wheel.
"The game is just beginning."
The sedan pulled away slowly, leaving behind only exhaust fumes and despair.
...
...
Meanwhile.
Tokyo, Minato Ward. An elite private hospital.
The entire floor had been locked down. Even the elevator signals were blocked. Black-suited bodyguards lined the corridor, their expressions cold. Not even a fly could get through.
Inside the VIP intensive care unit.
The man who had once commanded the Toyokawa Consortium's hundreds of billions in assets, Toyokawa Sadaharu, now lay in a hospital bed. Tubes and monitoring equipment covered his body.
His eyes were closed, his complexion ashen, as if he'd already lost consciousness.
The doctor shook his head slightly and turned to address the middle-aged man standing at the bedside.
"Second Master, President Sadaharu is being kept alive purely by machines at this point. Truthfully... he could go at any moment."
The man called "Second Master," Toyokawa Yuichi, stared at the old man in the bed expressionlessly.
There was no grief in his eyes. Only the cold, greedy patience of a predator waiting for its prey to stop breathing.
"Understood."
Yuichi turned to face his trusted lawyer, his voice low and venomous. "Lock down all information!"
"Until the will is officially amended, no one is to leak word of the old man's critical condition to the outside. Especially..."
He paused, lips curling into a mocking sneer. "Especially not to that waste Kiyotsugu, or his daughter Sakiko."
"Second Master, you intend to..." The lawyer understood immediately but still asked carefully.
"Hmph."
Yuichi straightened his tie, malice glittering in his eyes. "That idiot Kiyotsugu thought Sakiko was the old man's favorite, thought the old man would protect him forever?"
"Then I'll use this opportunity to send him to hell."
"Notify Legal. Dig up that 16.8 billion investment loss from last year. Make him pay it back, or die."
"Yes, sir!" The lawyer bowed his head in acknowledgment.
...
...
Tokyo, Adachi Ward. A dark, damp rental apartment.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Violent pounding on the door shook dust from the walls.
"Open up! Kiyotsugu Toyokawa! Stop playing dead in there!"
"16.8 billion! You've got some nerve losing that much! If you don't have a plan today, we're taking your organs as payment!"
Inside the apartment.
Kiyotsugu Toyokawa cowered behind the sofa like a frightened bird, his face a mask of panic.
He was unshaven, eyes sunken. Where was the dignity of a wealthy family's son-in-law now?
"How did this happen... how did this happen..."
He trembled all over, clutching his phone with white knuckles, lips quivering. "How dare Second Uncle do this? Father is still alive! Father loves Sakiko the most! How could he possibly make me repay 16.8 billion?"
Even now, even at rock bottom, Kiyotsugu Toyokawa's first instinct wasn't to take responsibility.
It was to use his daughter.
"Sakiko... right! Find Sakiko!"
Kiyotsugu seized on this like a drowning man grabbing a life preserver, frantically dialing his daughter's number.
"Only that girl can see the old man! If she goes and cries a little, I'll be saved!"
His shaking fingers pressed the call button.
But—
"Beep... beep... beep... The number you have dialed is currently unavailable..."
The call disconnected in less than a second.
Kiyotsugu stared blankly. Unwilling to accept it, he dialed again.
"Beep... beep... beep..."
Instant disconnect.
Even the dullest person would understand by now.
"Blocked...?"
Kiyotsugu's eyes went wide, bloodshot veins spreading across them as he gaped at his phone screen in disbelief.
"That little bitch... actually blocked me?!"
"I'm your father! How dare you block me?! Do you want to watch me die too?!"
A surge of betrayed fury instantly overwhelmed his reason.
He screamed at his phone, spittle flying everywhere.
"Ungrateful wretch! You spend money like water normally, and when it matters, you cut me off?!"
"Without me, could you have been a young lady?! You unfilial daughter! You white-eyed wolf!"
He hurled his phone against the wall in impotent rage, cursing wildly.
Outside, the pounding on the door grew more violent.