A recently acquired entertainment company president tried to keep his personal phone. Famous in the industry for his fiery temper, accustomed to privilege, he instinctively wanted to protest.
"Wait," he said, frowning at the security personnel blocking him, "I need to be reachable at all times. This is my work phone."
He met only the eyes of one of the guards.
A pair of eyes without any emotion, looking at him as one might look at a lifeless stone.
The man didn't speak. He simply extended a hand in a "please" gesture, his meaning unmistakable.
Tanaka's deputy hurriedly tugged at his sleeve and whispered, "President, these are the rules..."
"Rules?" Tanaka snorted coldly, his voice low but audible to those around him. "Surely I, Tanaka, am not so untrustworthy that I have to be screened like a corporate spy?"
The line was meant for everyone present, and it was a probe.
But no one echoed him.
Everyone kept their gazes lowered, silently lining up to surrender their belongings.
The guard remained expressionless, only pushing his hand forward another inch.
An invisible pressure descended.
President Tanaka felt a thin layer of cold sweat break out on his back. He finally realized that, here, his usual identity and status counted for nothing.
Stiffly, he pulled the phone from his pocket and placed it on the tray.
"Please," the guard finally said, his voice like metal scraping metal.
Inside the conference hall, the atmosphere was suffocating, almost frozen.
More than two hundred industry titans now sat as quietly as students about to face judgment. They didn't dare whisper to one another. They even slowed their breathing on purpose.
Because at the head of the ring-shaped conference table, in the single seat reserved there, sat their sovereign.
Seiji Fujiwara.
He wore a well-tailored black casual suit and lounged against the back of his chair. He didn't look at anyone. He was simply listening.
A middle-aged man stood. He was Yamamoto, president of Fujiwara Medical Group.
He pulled up the projection in front of him, drew in a deep breath, and spoke in a steady voice that carried a faint, barely perceptible tremor.
"President. As of last quarter, our medical market share in the Kanto region reached forty-seven percent."
"The new targeted drugs from our three subsidiary pharmaceutical companies have successfully suppressed comparable products from traditional firms like Takeda and Astellas. Annual profits are projected to exceed three hundred billion yen."
Seiji didn't speak. He gave a slight nod.
Yamamoto, as if granted a pardon, sat back down at once, his back already soaked through with cold sweat.
Another man rose. He was the head of Fujiwara Entertainment, the same Tanaka who had just been shown his place.
Whatever arrogance he had carried earlier was gone. He bowed respectfully.
"President, the film Yomi, fully financed and produced by our company, has refreshed the all-time box office record of Japanese cinema in the three weeks since release. Our newly signed idol group, Stardust Maidens, sold over three million copies of their first single, and an invitation has already arrived for this year's Kohaku Uta Gassen."
Seiji remained expressionless, only letting his gaze drift over Tanaka with idle indifference.
Tanaka felt as though some prehistoric beast had locked onto him. His heart skipped a beat, and he hurried to add, "Also... regarding the plan you previously mentioned, using virtual idol technology for market penetration, we have assembled a top-tier team. The initial proposal will be ready by next week..."
"Mn."
Seiji finally produced a single-syllable response.
Tanaka let out a long breath, feeling as if he had walked back from the gates of hell, and quickly sat down.
The reports proceeded at an efficient, frigid pace.
Real estate, heavy industry, finance, media...
One vast commercial domain after another was unfolded, like maps showing the spoils of war.
Every person in the room felt pride in the power they personally commanded.
But when those forces were gathered together, presented before that young man, what they felt was awe and fear that came from the deepest part of the soul.
Many of them were attending an integration meeting at this top level for the first time.
They had thought they already understood Seiji's strength well enough.
It was only today that they discovered what they had seen before was the tip of the iceberg.
This man had, at some point unknown to them, extended his tendrils into every corner of this country and seized control of countless economic arteries.
The meeting ended.
People filed out in silence, and many, stepping out of the building and stung by the daylight, were still in a daze.
They felt as though they had not just attended a meeting but had been granted an audience with a modern emperor.
...
Seiji remained alone in the conference hall.
He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down at the Tokyo below, stretched out like a sand-table model.
Medicine, pharmaceuticals, entertainment, real estate...
His fingers were already wrapped around this nation's arteries.
One-tenth.
That was his rough estimate of the tangible and intangible assets of this country currently under his control.
At this scale, the so-called law had become a suggestion. A tool to bind ordinary people, not something prepared for an existence like him.
Especially in Kamiyama and Chiba, which he now controlled completely. There, he was the local emperor.
The corner of Seiji's mouth lifted into an amused arc.
It was time. Time he could play a little more recklessly.
...
At the same time.
In the main residence of the Shinomiya Family, in a deep, secluded washitsu, the atmosphere was equally heavy.
Several core members of the main Shinomiya line sat upright in formal posture.
Before them lay an intelligence report on Seiji Fujiwara.
The more detailed the report grew, the worse their expressions became.
"...According to information we obtained from inside the Ministry of Defense, the 'Black Shield' security firm under his name employs over five hundred fully armed personnel and is even equipped with light armored vehicles. This is no longer a security firm. It is a small private army."
The man in charge of intelligence reported in a dry voice.
"An army..."
Seated in the head position, the head of the Shinomiya Family, Gan'an Shinomiya, tapped lightly on the table, his eyes dark.
Wealth could be matched. Power could be played against.
But when the other side held violence that answered to no rules, every commercial method became feeble.
"Today he assembled the heads of every industry under him in Chiyoda Ward."
Another man, Gan'an's eldest son, added, "Our man planted in one of his subsidiaries reports back that the scale of the industries Seiji Fujiwara controls is far beyond what we imagined. He... is already a behemoth no smaller than ourselves."
Silence.
A dead silence.
After a long while, Gan'an spoke slowly. "Since we cannot make him an enemy, then we must make him a friend. What does he like?"
"According to the intelligence... this man has a passion for beauty. Especially young, exceptional girls."
A glint flashed through Gan'an's eyes.
"Catering to his tastes is the fastest way to build a relationship," he decided. "Prepare a gift."
A brief discussion began.
Cold and efficient, like a business negotiation. The subjects under discussion were living, breathing girls.
"What about the Kouko Family's youngest daughter? She just turned seventeen this year."
"No good. The Kouko Family has had a project conflict with us recently. Sending their daughter would make it look as if we were the ones bowing."
"Then... there are a few good prospects in the branch families."
"Not weighty enough. For a man like Seiji Fujiwara, the first gift sent must be sincere enough, and just right."
In the end, one name was placed on the table.
"Ai Hayasaka."
The personal attendant of Lady Kaguya. Young, beautiful, and exceptional in ability.
Most importantly, her surname was not Shinomiya.
A perfect gift.
Value high enough, cost low enough.
No one in attendance raised an objection.
The meeting ended.
Gan'an returned to his study and personally dialed Seiji's private line.
When the call connected, his voice turned warm and refined, full of the composure of a man at the top.
"Fujiwara-kun, forgive the intrusion. I heard you have returned to Tokyo, and on behalf of the Shinomiya Family, I extend my most sincere greetings."
After the pleasantries, he came to the point.
"To facilitate future exchange and cooperation between our two houses, I plan to send a dedicated liaison to your side, to handle all related matters." He paused, and his tone took on a meaningful weight. "She is a very intelligent young woman. I hope she will be to Fujiwara-kun's satisfaction."
On the other end, Seiji let out a soft laugh.
He understood, of course, the unspoken meaning behind the word "liaison."
"The head of the family is most considerate," he replied evenly. "I look forward to it."
After hanging up, the smile on Seiji's face deepened.
He walked to the wine cabinet, poured himself a glass of red wine, and swirled it gently.
The Shinomiya Family...
Whom would they send?
He was looking forward to it.
...
...
The dismissal bell of Shuchiin Academy rang, sweet and lingering.
In the classroom of First-Year Class A, Ai Hayasaka tidied up her last set of class notes and put them into her bag.
As Kaguya Shinomiya's personal attendant, her time was scheduled down to the minute.
After school, she would return at once to the Shinomiya main residence to prepare tea and refreshments for her young lady, and to assist with the daily work of student council documents.
That was her job. That was her routine.
But just as she stepped out of the school building, the specially issued phone in her pocket buzzed.
It was a top-priority order from the Shinomiya main house.
Ai walked to a secluded corner and answered.
"Hayasaka."
The voice on the other end belonged to her supervising butler, low in tone. "You have a new task. From this moment on, you will serve as the dedicated liaison between the Shinomiya Family and Mr. Seiji Fujiwara."
A faint shock ran through Ai at the words.
Seiji Fujiwara?
The mysterious new figure who had recently risen to fame in the financial world? The Shinomiya Family was actually moving to establish ties with him?
"Now, go to the school gate immediately. Someone will hand you a document," the butler continued. "You must deliver this document personally into Mr. Fujiwara's hands within one hour. The address will be sent to you."
"Yes."
Although her mind was full of questions, Ai raised none of them.
Obeying orders was the first principle that had been drilled into her.
She hung up and walked briskly to the school gate.
A black Toyota Century waited quietly at the curb.
Ai approached with quick steps.
The window slid down, revealing the stern face of a middle-aged man. He was one of the Shinomiya drivers, surname Yamamoto.
"Miss Hayasaka." Yamamoto handed out a thick manila document envelope. "Please, deliver it personally into Mr. Fujiwara's hands. Without fail."
His tone was unusually solemn, as if he were entrusting her with a sacred relic on which the family's fate depended.
Ai took the envelope. It was heavy in her grasp.
She could feel the weight of the matter, and her own expression turned serious. "Please don't worry, Mr. Yamamoto. I'll see it through."
The man looked at her for a long moment.
His expression was complicated, carrying something that almost resembled reluctance, almost pity.
"...Take care on the way."
He said nothing more, rolled up the window, and the car pulled away in silence.
Ai had no time to dwell on that strange look. She immediately flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the address.
In the car, she took out her own phone and dialed Kaguya Shinomiya.
"Lady Kaguya, it's me." Her voice returned to its usual softness. "I've received a sudden assignment from the main house and need to take care of it. I may be late getting back tonight."
"Eh? An assignment?"
Kaguya sounded surprised on the other end, then her tone took on a touch of dissatisfaction and pampered grumbling. "What assignment is so urgent? There are still plenty of student council documents that haven't been dealt with."
"I'm very sorry, Lady Kaguya. It's a direct order from the main house," Ai explained patiently.
"All right, all right," Kaguya sighed. "I understand. Be careful, and come back early."
"Yes, Lady Kaguya."
After hanging up, Ai turned all of her attention to the envelope in her hands.
For the main house to handle this so seriously, what on earth was inside?
A trade secret? Or... some kind of agreement that couldn't see the light?
She didn't dare guess.
The taxi wound through Tokyo's complicated road network and finally stopped before an imposing residence atop a hill in Minato Ward.
Calling it a residence was understating it. It was more like a modern castle.
Tall walls, a stately iron gate, and the rugged guards in black at the entrance all proclaimed the extraordinary status of its master.
Ai paid the fare. The moment she stepped out, a young woman in standard maid uniform came forward to greet her.
As if she had been waiting for some time.
"Miss Ai Hayasaka, I presume?" The maid wore a professional smile. "The master has been expecting you. Please, this way."
Ai nodded and followed the maid into the heavily guarded estate.
They passed through a meticulously trimmed garden and entered the main building.
Just as Ai was expecting to be led to a study or a reception room, the maid stopped.
"Miss Hayasaka." The smile was unchanged, but her words were startling. "The master has instructed that, before meeting him, you must first bathe and purify yourself."
"...What?" Ai frowned.
"It is the master's rule."
The maid added, as if reciting a line she had memorized long ago, "From your hair to your body, everything must be thoroughly cleaned. In addition, your mouth must be deeply cleansed using the mouthwash we have prepared."
Ai stared.
What kind of rich man's eccentricity was this? A cleanliness obsession this extreme was outrageous.
A wave of absurdity and displeasure rose in her chest.
But her professional training pressed every emotion back down. Her expression remained calm.
"I understand." Ai nodded, then lifted the envelope in her hand. "But this document. Mr. Yamamoto told me it must be handed over personally..."
"Of course." The maid cut her off, smile flawless. "If you are uneasy, we can provide a specially made waterproof bag. You may bring the document into the bath with you."
A flicker of pity passed through the maid's eyes.
So fleeting that Ai couldn't catch it.
At the words, Ai relaxed. So the man simply had a cleanliness fixation, not designs on this important document.
"Yes, thank you for the trouble."
She took the waterproof bag the maid handed her, carefully placed the "important" document inside, and held it close against her chest.
"The bath is this way. Please." The maid pushed open a door for her. "Inside, fresh clothing and toiletries have been prepared for you. Use them as you wish. I'll wait outside."
Ai stepped inside, and behind her, the door was closed quietly.
She didn't see how the maid outside gazed at the closed door with the expression one wears watching an offering, and gently shook her head.
Document?
That document didn't matter at all.
The thing that was truly being delivered... was the girl herself.
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