She walked to the corner, pulled out her phone, and with trembling fingers opened a password-protected album.
There were only a few photos inside.
Blurry shots she had taken while secretly following Sakiko before, and another from a few evenings ago—taken through a car window beneath the Genesis Media building.
The images were grainy, full of noise, but Sakiko's pale profile was still unmistakable.
"Voluntary…"
Soyo stared at the screen and murmured the words Sakiko had said that day. "For money… worth it…"
"Liar."
Her voice suddenly turned sharp, painfully loud in the empty classroom.
"How could it be voluntary?!"
She slammed the phone face-down against her knee.
The memory surged back like a flood, crashing into her already frayed nerves.
Sakiko crawling out from under the table.
Sakiko trembling, filthy liquid at the corner of her mouth, tears streaking her face.
And that look—when their eyes met—not shame, but terror so deep it could drown someone. Despair.
If she had really sold herself for money, if she had truly chosen to fall, her eyes should have been numb. Or worse, filled with that cheap, nauseating seduction.
It could never be that look.
Never that look… like an angel with broken wings.
"She's lying!"
Soyo lifted her head. The gentle eyes everyone knew now burned with a frightening, obsessive fire.
"She's protecting me. She thinks that man is too powerful. She's afraid I'll get dragged in, so she said those disgusting things on purpose to push me away. To make me leave."
That was Soyo Nagasaki's conclusion.
A deeply self-centered judgment, yet one that formed a perfectly sealed loop of logic.
She didn't need the truth. She only needed a reason—something that justified action, something that freed her from the guilt of being a "betrayer."
And Sakiko is a victim who was forced became her sole pillar of belief.
Only by believing that could her action that day—closing the door—be reframed as "waiting for a better counterattack," rather than cowardly escape.
A pathological desire for redemption. A twisted form of self-satisfaction.
"Seiji Fujiwara!"
She ground out the name through clenched teeth.
"You trample on us with power and money…"
She picked up her phone again, her gaze turning cold and resolute. "Then I'll make you taste what it's like when those things turn on you."
She opened her contacts and found a number labeled Weekly Bushun – Sato.
A gossip reporter she'd contacted earlier while tracking Sakiko. Greedy and sleazy, but notorious for making powerful people miserable. Pay him enough, and he'd publish anything.
Soyo took a deep breath.
"Hello? Mr. Sato?"
The moment the call connected, her voice shifted instantly—sweet, obedient, touched with a hint of helplessness.
Her best disguise.
"It's me, Nagasaki Soyo. You said before that you were very interested in the young president of Genesis Group, didn't you?"
An oily male voice came through the line. "Oh? Miss Nagasaki. What is it, you've got something?"
"Yes… I have some very interesting leads. About power-for-sex deals. About underage girls. No, this time I don't need you to take secret photos."
She glanced at the faint light slipping through the curtains, her eyes icy. "I just need you to help me make it blow up—at the right moment."
"The timing? This Friday. At the Genesis Media charity banquet."
"Yes. My mother is the host. I can get you inside. But I have one condition… I want to give the victim a chance to speak. Right there."
After hanging up, Soyo stared at the darkened screen, a twisted smile curling her lips.
She didn't need hard evidence for this plan.
Because Sakiko herself was the best evidence.
All she had to do was hand Sakiko a microphone at a banquet filled with elites and media cameras.
In a place like that, that man would never dare resort to violence.
Give Sakiko one chance to speak, and she would cry as she exposed that demon's crimes.
Genesis Group's stock would crash.
Seiji would be ruined.
And she, Soyo Nagasaki, would become the hero who saved her friend—and her mother.
"Wait for me, Sakiko."
She hugged her knees to her chest as if clinging to her only faith. "I'll bring you back. And then… I'll hide you somewhere no one can find. Just the two of us…"
…
…
Genesis Medical Group headquarters.
President's office.
Before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, Seiji Fujiwara casually opened an envelope.
Inside were several secretly taken photos.
Soyo smiling as she explained homework to classmates at school. Soyo buying rice balls alone at a convenience store. And one from that evening beneath the Genesis building—her eyes dark as she stared at the Maybach driving away.
On the screen beside them played a freshly delivered audio recording.
Soyo's phone call with "Reporter Sato."
And the person who delivered it was none other than Sato himself.
"Interesting."
Seiji chuckled softly.
He studied the girl in the photos—seemingly harmless, but brimming with schemes—like someone watching a hamster gnawing furiously at its cage.
"Megumi, what do you think?"
Standing beside him, Megumi Kato didn't comment. Instead, she placed a thick investigation report on the desk.
"Nagasaki Soyo. Only daughter of Nagasaki Rie. On the surface, a flawless honor student. In reality, extremely controlling. Likely related to her family environment and upbringing."
She paused. "The gossip studio she contacted has already been quietly brought under our control. Sato is one of ours."
"I know."
Seiji turned back to the desk, tapping his fingers lightly. "She's planning to 'surprise' me at Friday's banquet. Have Sakiko accuse me in public? Naive. Almost cute."
"Should we deal with her now? Or just ban her from the banquet?" Megumi asked flatly, without a hint of pity.
She was Seiji's woman. She naturally viewed things from his perspective.
"No."
He raised a hand, cutting her off.
"Why stop her? If she wants to build a stage and put on a play, then we'll give her the stage."
A hunter's delight flickered in his eyes—the moment prey steps into the trap.
"Women like her look gentle and pure, but they're arrogant to the core. She doesn't believe in reality. She believes in the script she wrote in her own head. She thinks she's a savior, but she's really just feeding her own possessiveness."
"If she isn't pushed into true despair once, she'll never behave."
He picked up a close-up photo of Soyo.
It was taken in a music room. Even as a candid shot, the twisted persistence in her eyes was unmistakable.
"Sakiko alone in that cage is too lonely. Don't you think the two of them would make a perfect pair?"
His voice carried a chill that crawled along the spine.
"One white swan whose pride has been shattered by reality. One black swan drowning in hypocritical fantasies. Break both their wings and lock them in the same cage…"
"That scene would be beautiful."
And there was an even more interesting factor.
Seiji glanced at another file on his desk—the promotion approval for Nagasaki Rie.
"That manager has spent a full month preparing for this banquet. It's the highlight of her career."
"I imagine Soyo thinks so too."
A cruel curve lifted his lips.
A perfect opportunity to control her—one she delivered herself.
"Make the arrangements."
He said calmly. "Have Sato cooperate fully with Miss Nagasaki's performance. Tell him to make it convincing. Encourage her to bring even more people, if she wants."
"And prepare a dress for Sakiko. Something that perfectly shows her current 'status'… and provokes Nagasaki Soyo's strongest protective instincts."
"Yes, boss."
Megumi left to carry out the orders.
The office fell silent once more.
Seiji stared at Soyo's flawless face on the screen and murmured,
"Nagasaki Soyo, you want to save someone. Then I'll give you the chance."
"I just wonder—when you see the real Sakiko in hell, when you realize you destroyed your mother's happiness with your own hands…"
"Will you still be able to keep that expression?"
"I'm really looking forward to the way you cry beneath me."
He raised his glass and toasted the girl in the void.
"Welcome to the adult world, Nagasaki Soyo."
…
…
Shibuya's streets glimmered with neon reflections in rain-soaked puddles.
In a retro café hidden deep in a back alley, the air was thick with the bitter aroma of roasted beans.
Low jazz flowed through the room, a saxophone murmuring softly.
A booth in the corner lay concealed behind tall green plants.
Soyo sat there.
She had shed her conspicuous Tsukinomori uniform jacket, replacing it with an unremarkable beige trench coat. A baseball cap was pulled low, hiding the eyes that usually carried a gentle smile.
Now, those eyes held only calculation.
Across from her sat a middle-aged man with stubble and sharp eyes. His worn jacket framed a camera hanging from his chest.
Sato Kenji, a veteran reporter from a gossip weekly infamous for ruthless exposés.
"Miss Nagasaki." Sato lifted his coffee and took a sip, his gaze roaming over her still-youthful face pretending at depth. "The big scoop you mentioned on the phone… this is it?"
He tapped the photo on the table.
A shot Soyo had taken—Sakiko following behind Seiji like a shadow as they left the Genesis building.
"Isn't this enough?" Soyo kept her voice low, urgency leaking through. "The girl in the photo is my close friend. She's underage. She had a bright future. Now she's being controlled by that man. She's become… she's become that."
Sato raised a brow and examined the photo. "Seiji Fujiwara. He's the hottest figure around right now. Crushed Tohto Medical, tore through the television alliance, swallowed Mitsui Pharmaceuticals. Ruthless methods."
"One blurry back shot doesn't prove much."
"And honestly, rich men keeping a pretty secretary isn't exactly news."
"She's not a secretary!"
Soyo cut in sharply, then immediately realized her slip. She inhaled, forcing herself to calm down. "Mr. Sato, I don't need you to believe me. I just need you to give me a chance."
She pulled an envelope from her bag and slid it across the table.
"Media access passes for this Friday's Genesis Media charity banquet. And a floor plan of the VIP area."
Her finger tapped a red circle on the map. "The second-floor VIP lounge. Midway through the banquet, I'll find a way to bring them there. All you need to do is wait with your camera."
"Just give that girl a chance to speak. Just ask her on camera if she was forced."
Her eyes burned, feverish and twisted. "She'll tell the truth. And then it'll be the headline that shakes all of Japan—rising business star abducts underage girl. Your magazine's sales will explode. And I'll save my friend."
Sato opened the envelope and checked the passes.
They were real. Even stamped with Nagasaki Rie's private seal.
He fell silent for a moment, sighing inwardly, then put on a look of interest. "That does sound intriguing."
He tucked the envelope away. "A rich girl betraying her own family to save a friend, teaming up with a reporter to expose darkness. I like that script."
"Then it's settled."
Soyo stood, giving him one last, deep look. "Please… make it big. As big as possible."
"Don't worry, Miss Nagasaki." Sato patted the camera on his chest. "Stirring things up is my specialty."
As Soyo's hurried figure vanished into the rainy night, the smile on Sato's face slowly faded, replaced by a mix of pity and mockery.
He took out his phone and dialed an unmarked number.
"Hello? Mr. Kurosawa?"
His voice turned instantly respectful, almost fawning. "Yes, Miss Nagasaki just met with me. That's right—she gave me the passes. Wants me to block the second-floor lounge."
Jin Kurosawa's cold voice came from the other end.
Sato nodded repeatedly. "Understood. I'll do exactly that. Yes, I'll bring a few fellow reporters along. Since it's a show personally directed by the boss, it should be lively."
After hanging up, Sato looked out at the night and sighed softly.
"Little girl… you think you're the hunter?"
He shook his head, crumpled the photo Soyo treasured so dearly, lit it with a lighter, and dropped it into the ashtray.
"In this world, who's the hunter and who's the prey… it's been written in the script for a long time."
…
Genesis Group headquarters.
Top floor.
A massive holographic screen replayed the café's surveillance footage in real time.
The clarity was sharp enough to show every fine hair on Soyo's face.
Seiji lounged on a leather sofa, sounding almost reflective. "Even more impatient than I expected."
"She really wants her Sakiko that badly, huh?"
Given the way Nagasaki Soyo was written, it wasn't surprising.
"Using her mother's privilege to conspire with a reporter who wants to destroy her mother's career. Is that what she calls friendship? Truly world-shaking wisdom."
Nearby, Megumi held a tablet, fingers moving swiftly.
A moment later, she looked up. "Seiji, the acquisitions are complete. Three more media studios—the ones Sato contacted as allies. Aside from a few official financial outlets, the entire banquet media area will be ours."
"Excellent."
Seiji nodded. "Sato's a smart man."
"Yes. He knows exposing you might make him famous briefly, but he'd end up feeding fish in Tokyo Bay. Acting along with you keeps him alive and builds connections." Megumi's tone was even.
"Heh. Soyo thinks she can use public opinion…"
A cold smile curved Seiji's lips. "But public opinion has never been a weapon for the weak. It's the mouthpiece of the strong."
"Since she wants to save Sakiko so badly, I'll give her the chance."
He turned, his gaze settling on a garment rack in the corner.
A newly delivered dress hung there.
Deep purple velvet, gleaming with a mysterious, seductive sheen under the lights.
"Send the dress to Sakiko."
He gestured toward it. "Tell her to wear it to Friday's banquet."
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