What?
Haruno's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
She'd expected him to negotiate. To push back, demand more. She had never imagined his appetite would be large enough to swallow the entire company.
"Absolutely not!" The refusal left her mouth before the thought had fully formed. "This company is my mother's legacy. I will never hand it over to anyone!"
"Is that so?"
Hiroaki didn't flinch. If anything, his smile widened.
"Niece, I'd suggest you think very carefully."
"Let me be frank with you. Sosuke Takahashi? That was me. I made the call."
"Why do you think he pulled that ridiculous clause at the last second to kill the deal? Because he'd already decided to work with me."
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Her own uncle.
Had driven the knife into her back himself.
"You... why would you do this?" She stared at him, disbelief cracking through her composure.
"Why?"
Hiroaki's smile curdled into a sneer. "Because the Yukinoshita family should never have been ruled by your branch alone."
"Your mother is gone. You should give up what you can't hold."
"The bank? I've already handled that. They will never grant you an extension. I've even lined up other buyers. If you don't agree to my terms today, tomorrow we file jointly for bankruptcy liquidation."
"When that happens, you and that precious little sister of yours, the one still in high school, will be left with nothing. Out on the street."
"And me? I'll still carve out my share from the wreckage."
"Think it over, my dear niece."
He rose. The others followed, filing out of the room with cold smirks on their faces.
Haruno sat motionless, staring at nothing.
She didn't know how she left the meeting room.
She drove without destination, drifting through Chiba's streets like a sleepwalker behind the wheel. The city blurred past the windows.
Her mind was blank.
Pride, intelligence, connections, family... everything she'd believed she possessed had turned out to be a joke.
Eventually, she found herself back in the cold top-floor office.
She sank into the chair and stared at the ceiling, hollow-eyed.
As though every emotion had been drained out of her, leaving behind nothing but a perfect, exquisite shell labeled "Haruno Yukinoshita."
The phone rang.
In the deathly silence, the sound was almost violent.
Seiji Fujiwara?
A faint ripple disturbed the emptiness in her eyes.
She picked up.
His voice came through the receiver. No mockery this time, no games. Only calm detachment.
"My terms haven't changed."
"If you agree, come to the penthouse suite at the Chiedahana Hotel. Now."
"If you don't, forget I called."
There was no war inside her. No agonized internal debate.
Pride? Dignity?
What were those? Could she eat them?
Could they save her mother's company?
Could they keep Yukino off the streets?
No.
So...
Her cracked lips moved. Two hoarse syllables scraped up from somewhere deep in her throat.
"...I'll come."
Those two words were her surrender.
"Good."
The voice on the other end remained flat.
"Clock starts now. You have thirty minutes. One minute late, and the deal's off."
The line went dead.
Haruno stood, picked up her coat and keys with mechanical precision, and walked out.
On the drive over, neon light swept across her pale, blank face in rhythmic waves through the car window.
Her mind held nothing at all.
The hotel. Penthouse suite.
The elevator doors parted with a soft chime, and Haruno stepped out without hesitation.
She moved like a condemned prisoner walking to the scaffold. No expression.
The suite door was ajar. She pushed it open.
Opulence filled her vision.
A massive crystal chandelier cast warm, indifferent light across the room, bright as midday.
"Oh, you made it."
Seiji sat on the oversized sofa facing the entrance. He didn't look up. His attention was on the crystal wine glass he was polishing with idle, unhurried strokes, as though waiting for a guest who barely merited the effort.
"Good evening, Fujiwara-sensei."
Haruno crossed the room and stopped in front of him. Needing something from someone had a way of smoothing out the sharp edges. Her tone carried none of its usual bite.
"I'm here."
"So you've agreed."
He finally raised his head.
His gaze traveled over the woman standing before him, exquisite and composed even now, and a slow, appraising smile settled on his lips.
"Then sit, Miss Yukinoshita." He set down the glass and gestured to the opposite sofa. "Standing makes for poor atmosphere, given what we're about to discuss."
"Of course. Pardon me."
She sat, mechanical and precise. Spine straight, hands resting on her knees like a student summoned to the principal's office. Impeccable posture, radiating cold.
"Fujiwara-sensei." Her voice came out flat and raw. "When does the money arrive?"
"Heh."
A low chuckle.
"Miss Yukinoshita, I think you may have misunderstood what I meant when I said I want you."
He stood, retrieved a document and a fountain pen from the liquor cabinet, and placed both on the coffee table with deliberate care.
"I don't do one-time transactions."
He slid the document toward her.
Printed on fine washi paper. The characters on the cover hit her like a slap.
Agreement Regarding the Designated Transfer of Haruno Yukinoshita's Personal Time
Her heart lurched.
Dread hit her instantly.
With trembling hands, she opened the agreement.
The clauses were simple. Every word cut to bone.
Party A (Seiji Fujiwara) shall provide Party B (Haruno Yukinoshita) with an immediate loan of five billion yen, interest-free, unsecured, and non-recourse, to resolve the urgent financial crisis facing Yukinoshita Construction.
As the sole interest on the above loan, for the duration of this agreement, all of Party B's personal time from 5:00 PM each Friday to 8:00 AM the following Monday shall belong to Party A.
During said period, Party A holds complete and unrestricted authority over Party B. Party B must comply unconditionally with any and all directives from Party A, without exception or resistance of any kind.
This agreement has one termination condition: when Party B repays the full five-billion-yen principal in a single lump sum, the agreement terminates automatically. Until such time, this agreement shall remain permanently in effect.
Her eyes went wide.
Not a one-time transaction. Not a single night of humiliation.
This was a long-term contract that packaged and sold her entire self. A kept-woman arrangement dressed in legalese.
"You..."
Her head snapped up, eyes blazing.
"How is this any different from robbery?"
Her voice shook with a fury she rarely let surface.
"I am robbing you, Miss Haruno." Seiji regarded her with that same mild smile. "Do you have any other options?"
"I believe my terms are the most favorable you'll find."
"Of course, you're still free to refuse."
He raised a hand, palm open, gesturing toward the door.
She could leave. The choice was hers.
But the consequences were not. Watching the Yukinoshita family splinter apart. The branch family seizing control. Her life and Yukino's life collapsing from the heights they'd known.
"...I didn't realize you were such a bastard, Fujiwara-sensei," Haruno said, her tone dripping acid.
"I appreciate the compliment." Seiji nodded pleasantly, entirely unbothered.
"Bastard!"
She glared at the man in front of her, chest heaving.
Rage. Indignation. Humiliation. Despair.
Every emotion churned inside her at once.
And then, one by one, they burned out. What remained was ash.
She dropped her gaze, seized the fountain pen, and signed.
Yuki. No. Shita. Haru. No.
Each stroke tore something out of her.
When the last character was done, she felt something deep in her core fracture beyond repair.
"Very good."
Seiji picked up the contract and nodded with quiet satisfaction.
He glanced at the desk calendar, then at his watch. The smile deepened.
"It's currently Friday. Five-ten in the afternoon."
"Which means our agreed-upon time has already begun."
The weekend, as defined by the contract, ran from five o'clock Friday afternoon to eight o'clock Monday morning.
Every hour of it belonged to him.
He extended his hand toward the woman frozen on the sofa.
"So then, Miss Haruno. Time to pay your first installment of interest."
Before the words had fully settled, he caught her wrist and pulled her to her feet in one smooth, irresistible motion.
Then drew her tight against him.
Haruno's face twisted with barely contained fury.
But she didn't struggle.
She knew. Against raw power, against the ink already drying on that page, physical resistance was pointless and undignified.
"What a figure."
His palm traced upward from her slender waist, slow and deliberate, mapping the firm, taut curves beneath her tailored suit. Everywhere his hand traveled, the muscles underneath contracted involuntarily, flinching from his touch.
"Perfect lines. Like a birch in winter, pliant and tall."
He leaned close to her ear, voice dropping to a murmur meant for no one else, appraising her the way one might admire a rare acquisition.
"Hmph."
Haruno bit down hard on her lower lip and turned her face away, trying to escape the heat of his breath against her skin.
But his other hand caught her chin and tilted it back.
His eyes roamed her features without a shred of restraint.
What stared back at him held no fear, no despair. Only undisguised revulsion.
She looked like someone with a pathological aversion to filth being forced to endure its touch. The loathing was so intense it practically bled from those frigid eyes.
"A stunning face. Shame it's so unhappy right now."
His lips brushed her forehead first. Then the tip of her nose. They stopped a fraction from her mouth.
"Don't worry. I'll give you plenty more reasons to be unhappy."
The kiss landed on her lips.
He didn't push deeper. A sommelier's first taste of a rare vintage, nothing more.
The instant his mouth touched hers, Haruno squeezed her eyes shut. Her lashes trembled violently, as though refusing to witness another second of the world she'd been dragged into.
Seiji felt every rigid muscle, saw every flicker of disgust she made no effort to hide.
It didn't anger him. His smile only grew.
He liked this reaction.
It proved her spirit was still fighting. Still unbroken.
A Collectible with thorns, one that clawed back, was infinitely more interesting than a docile, soulless doll.
"Appetizer's over."
He released her, though his grip on her wrist never loosened.
"Let's go. My place. We'll take the rest of this slow."
He led her toward the door.
Haruno didn't resist. She followed in silence, numb, pulled along like something no longer fully her own.
Disgust and humiliation sat unchanged on her face. Her eyes were a frozen lake, rage sealed beneath the ice.
In the hotel's underground garage, the car was already waiting.
The doors opened. They slid inside.
The vehicle pulled away, gliding toward Seiji's estate on the outskirts of the city.
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