Yūto Shō looked mockingly at the dejected girl in front of him. "I didn't expect Ruri-chan to be quite the schemer. Almost had me fooled. So you were lying this whole time — wow, I'm devastated. Guess I've got no choice but to post the video in the class group chat. Wonder what Egawa Mitsuki would think when she sees it."
He smiled and lifted his phone. Before he could tap the screen, Sato Ruri lunged and grabbed his wrist, shaking her head frantically. "No — I know I was wrong…"
Yūto Shō sneered. "Where exactly did you go wrong?"
Sato Ruri hesitated, then murmured, "I shouldn't have lied to you. Please don't post the video."
"And?"
Her pretty face went pale. After a long pause, she forced the words out. "I promise you… touching… you can touch my chest."
Her cheeks burned as she spoke, and a wave of regret crashed over her — she'd walked right into his trap.
She finally understood Yūto Shō had been toying with her on purpose, and resentment churned beneath her skin, though she didn't dare let any of it show. Worse than that, she had to keep flattering him, keep him sweet, make sure that video never saw the class group chat.
The thought of his hand on her was enough to make her stomach turn.
Yūto Shō nodded silently to himself and said, "This is a public place. I'm not gonna touch you here. Let's find somewhere a little more… private."
Sato Ruri's face drained of what little color remained, but she'd just gotten on his bad side once and didn't dare risk it again. She could only ask, "Where are we going?"
"We'll walk and figure it out."
Yūto Shō didn't actually have a destination — he was still chewing on the date angle, wanting an excuse to drag her along for it.
"Let's go, Ruri-chan." He walked off without waiting, ignoring her grim expression. The crowd had thinned, but anyone passing by would still notice them. If someone made a scene and called the cops, things would get ugly fast.
What's the charge for harassing a girl against her will again?
Sato Ruri didn't want to follow him anywhere remotely deserted. Something about him screamed bad intentions, and she worried that an empty place would mean worse than what she'd already lost. But she didn't dare refuse.
She stood frozen for a moment, jaw tight, then gritted her teeth and trailed after him.
Walking a few paces ahead, Yūto Shō suddenly remembered — if this was a date, they couldn't act like total strangers.
He stopped and turned to look at her. The second he stopped, she stopped too, hovering a few meters back, watching him like a cornered cat.
Yūto Shō rolled his eyes. "Come here. Quit dragging your feet. You don't want me to delete the video anymore?"
Sato Ruri scraped together what was left of her nerve and walked over. The moment she was close enough, Yūto Shō casually took her hand. It was the first time he'd ever held a girl's hand, and god — it really was soft. Smooth, warm, the kind of skin you only read about. He couldn't resist giving it a few experimental squeezes.
Sato Ruri's body went rigid, a flush climbing her cheeks. She whipped her head around to glare at him. "You—?!"
"What?" Yūto Shō smiled, waving the phone in front of her face with his free hand, eyes loaded with meaning. "Got a problem?"
Her face cycled through pale and red, and finally she dropped her gaze in humiliation. "…No. No problem."
"Then why aren't you smiling? Am I really that unsatisfactory?"
Sato Ruri swallowed the urge to scream and forced her lips into something resembling a smile. By now Yūto Shō's behavior had made one thing brutally clear — he was a textbook villain-route protagonist and he wasn't going to show her an ounce of mercy.
It's fine, she told herself, white-knuckling her own composure. Just pretend you got bit by a stray dog. Endure until he deletes the video, then walk away and never look at him again.
"That's more like it. If you behave from here on out, Ruri-chan, maybe I'll grant your little wish."
Pleased with how docile she'd gotten, Yūto Shō led her along.
Sato Ruri kept her eyes darting around as they walked, terrified of being spotted by someone she knew. Her hand stayed locked in his, and beneath all the frustration and shame, the warmth of his palm seeped into hers — and something strange stirred under it. Something she didn't want to name.
She wanted to pull away. She didn't dare.
…
Yūto Shō dragged the uncomfortable Sato Ruri around for a while before pulling her into a ramen shop. Shopping and food seemed like standard date material — he had no experience, so he was running off pure rom-com osmosis.
When the bowls hit the table, he was too starving to keep up the act. He attacked his ramen without a glance at her. Sato Ruri had zero appetite but was scared he'd snap if she didn't eat, so she picked up her chopsticks and pushed the noodles around with a few half-hearted bites.
By the time they left the shop, night had fallen. Yūto Shō had run out of ideas, and Sato Ruri's patience had clearly been incinerated.
He thought for a beat, then steered her into a nearby park and dropped onto an empty bench.
Sato Ruri stayed standing, her face dark with impatience. "I've done everything you asked. You can delete the video now, right?"
Being dragged around for hours had hollowed out the last of her tolerance. If he hadn't still had that video as a leash around her neck, she'd have lost it ages ago.
Yūto Shō looked at the seething girl in front of him and figured he'd pushed enough for one day. Holding her hand, dragging her on a fake date — that was solid villain-route XP for a single afternoon.
The thought had barely formed before his vision lit up.
[Route One: You've successfully strong-armed the girl into a date. Now she's demanding payment for services rendered — but as someone striving toward Ultimate Scumbag status, you can't let her off this easy. Feign rage. Stand up. Slap her across the face. Hurl insults until she runs home in tears.]
[Route Two: Gazing upon the stunning maiden before you, your suppressed desires can no longer be contained. Trick her into turning around, and the moment her guard drops, press your face against her skirt — from behind — and silently vow to remain there for no less than ten seconds.]
Yūto Shō stared into the middle distance, face going slack. What the actual fuck is wrong with this system.
Mistaking his silence for a chicken-out, Sato Ruri's small fists clenched at her sides. "You lied to me!"
"Wait, wait — calm down." Yūto Shō snapped back. "I'll delete it soon, I swear. You just gotta agree to one more thing."
"What thing?" She glared at him with murder in her eyes, mentally rehearsing how she'd lunge and sink her teeth into his throat if he asked for anything truly disgusting.
Catching the raw hatred radiating off her, Yūto Shō gave a stiff, awkward laugh — but inside, his soul was being yanked between two equally cursed options.
Route One was straight-up barbaric. Hitting a girl? Across the face? No. Absolutely not.
Route Two was, as always, peak degenerate territory.
How the hell am I supposed to pick.
His jaw worked silently. Finally, gritting his teeth, he locked in Route Two. Slapping Sato Ruri across the face — he just couldn't do it. Couldn't even fake it.
Decision made, he cleared his throat. "Turn around."
"…What for?" Sato Ruri eyed him like he'd just produced a knife.
Yūto Shō gave her a soft, syrupy smile. "I think you've got a pretty nice figure. I wanna admire it."
Her eyebrows twitched, a flush rising on her gorgeous cheeks. She bit down on her temper, turned her back to him with sharp, jerky movements, and snapped over her shoulder, "You're disgusting. Hurry up. I'll just pretend I got bit by a dog. Again."
Yūto Shō stared at her from behind, pulse thudding hard against his ribs. Dusk hadn't fully faded yet, and he could take her in up close — the elegant lines of her silhouette, a faint sweet fragrance drifting back to him on the breeze.
Their school uniform was a skirt — not a Japanese-style mini that ended mid-thigh, but it framed Sato Ruri well enough. Her back curved into a pronounced arch, hips wider than her shoulders, the kind of figure that would absolutely break the algorithm if she ever posted online.
Lower down, snow-pale calves peeked beneath the hem — the kind of skin you wanted to sink your teeth into.
The whole picture was beautiful. Youthful, soft, all girlish charm and quiet defiance.
Yūto Shō's throat bobbed. Slowly, carefully, he leaned forward and pressed his face against her — through the skirt, into the soft swell beneath the fabric. A rich, warm scent flooded his senses.
Sato Ruri froze. The instant her brain processed what he'd done, shock detonated through her and she instinctively tried to bolt. But Yūto Shō had been ready — his arms snapped around her hips and locked her in place.
She couldn't move. She stood there rigid, his face buried against her from behind, his scorching breath bleeding through the thin fabric of her skirt and washing directly over her delicate skin. Something hot and unfamiliar surged up from somewhere deep, somewhere she didn't have a name for.
Sato Ruri shivered, her body trembling in small involuntary waves, a tempting pink crawling across her tender cheeks as she stood pinned in the falling dusk.