Uika couldn't suppress the fury boiling inside her. She charged straight for the half-closed suite door. Bastard! Don't touch Saki! She screamed it in her head as her hand clamped down on the handle.
Then the sound coming from inside froze her in place. It wasn't the struggle or crying she'd imagined. It was the kind of sound you only ever heard in certain videos.
"Slower..." Sakiko's voice. "That's enough, don't push so hard..."
Uika's hand started shaking violently. That was Saki's voice, no doubt about it. But there wasn't a trace of elegance left in it. Only a breathy, shameless tone that made her cheeks burn.
Through the frosted glass, Uika caught a blurred outline of what was happening inside. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints. Sakiko was on all fours on the wet bathroom floor, long hair soaked and plastered to her back. The man was behind her, gripping her hips, thrusting into her with a steady, merciless rhythm. The person she'd always seen as pure and untouchable was bucking back against him, her face pressed to the tile, mouth full of soft, indecent sounds.
"Louder," the man commanded. "Say it. Say you're your master's slave."
"Y-yes... Sakiko is... master's... slave..."
Uika watched Sakiko lift her hips higher, actively meeting each thrust. The wet slap of skin echoed off the bathroom tile.
The sparkling, perfect Saki-chan in her memories collided violently with the woman before her, and with a deafening crash, her entire worldview shattered. Her mind went blank. She couldn't even find the strength to push the door open.
She didn't know how much time passed before the noise in the shower finally died down. "Master... Sakiko's so tired..." Sakiko's voice was hoarse, heavy with languid satisfaction.
"Then rest," the man said. He picked her up and carried her toward the bedroom.
Uika fled without thinking, staggering out of the building like a ghost.
Only when she stood on the empty street in the dead of night, cold wind cutting into her, did she realize her face was already soaked with icy tears.
…
Inside the bedroom.
Sakiko lay limp on the bed. Her body was exhausted to the point of collapse, yet her mind was filled with a strange, unsettling calm that came from being completely possessed.
Seiji lay beside her, fingers lazily playing with something soft.
She didn't care. Out of habit, she reached for her phone to check the time.
The screen lit up, and a Line notification stabbed painfully into her vision.
Uika Misumi:Saki-chan, you worked hard today. It's late, make sure you get some rest.
Sent at 22:05.
Sakiko's heart skipped a beat.
That timestamp was right before they'd started in the bathroom.
A chain of logic snapped together instantly in her mind.
Uika had come.
She sent a message I didn't reply to. Knocked, but I didn't hear it. And then she noticed the door wasn't locked…?
Sakiko jolted upright, ignoring the soreness in her body, and stared at the man beside her in panic. She remembered now. During it all, Seiji had paused, just for an instant. And the unlocked door itself suddenly felt far too deliberate.
"Seiji..." Her face went blank as her voice trembled. "Did you do it on purpose?"
Seiji's lips slowly curved into a smile. He didn't answer, but the expression said everything. It hit her like lightning. Shame and anger surged over her in a crushing wave. He'd known Uika would come. He'd left the door unlocked on purpose. Chosen that moment on purpose. Made Uika see her at her most pathetic, most disgraceful.
"Why... why are you so cruel..."
She wanted to explode. But the instant she met his eyes, cold and mocking as if she were nothing more than an ant, every trace of anger vanished. She didn't have the right to be angry. Sakiko collapsed back onto the bed, the light in her eyes going out.
Seeing her like that only made Seiji more excited. "Since you're not in the mood anymore, we'll switch to someone else," he said softly, fingers brushing her cold cheek. "Call Soyo."
Sakiko stiffened. "Today isn't her scheduled time with you, is it?"
"That's exactly why I need you." Seiji smiled. "If it's you calling, she won't refuse." It was a devil's whisper. He wanted her to drag Soyo into hell with her own hands.
Sakiko said nothing. After a few seconds of silence, she nodded. "Okay." She picked up her phone and dialed.
"Sakiko?! Is that you?" Soyo's voice on the other end was full of surprise and delight.
Hearing that familiar voice, Sakiko closed her eyes. When she spoke, her voice was cold as ice. "Soyo, come to Dawn Entertainment. I'll be waiting."
…
Half an hour later, in the office.
The moment Soyo Nagasaki saw Seiji Fujiwara, her eyes filled with caution.
"Why are you here? Why did Sakiko call me?"
"To teach you a lesson." Seiji walked over and sat down, pulling Sakiko against him and looking down at Soyo. "Sakiko's been exhausted lately, and you're far too clumsy as a newcomer. So I decided to have Senpai give you a personal demonstration."
Soyo's face went deathly pale. "No... please... Sakiko..."
Sakiko turned her head away, refusing to look at her. "Begin," Seiji said calmly. "Sakiko, show her what you've learned."
Sakiko slowly closed her eyes. When she opened them again, only obedience remained. In front of Soyo, she knelt at Seiji's feet, unfastened his belt with practiced hands, and took him into her mouth. Her tongue moved with instinctive familiarity, hollowing her cheeks, working him with the skill of someone who'd done this dozens of times.
"Stop... Sakiko! Please, don't do this!" Soyo's voice cracked.
Sakiko didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Her head bobbed steadily, saliva coating his shaft as she took him deeper.
Soyo couldn't accept it. She turned on Seiji, glaring at him in fury. "You made her call me because you wanted me, didn't you? Then take it out on me! Leave her alone!"
Seiji smiled. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. He pulled Sakiko off his cock and pushed her aside. "You heard your junior, Sakiko. She's volunteering."
Before Soyo could react, he'd crossed the room, gripped her wrist, and thrown her onto the bed. Her Tsukinomori uniform rode up as she landed. She scrambled to get up but Seiji was already on top of her, pinning her down.
"Wait... I didn't mean..." Soyo's bravado crumbled instantly.
"Too late." Seiji tore open her blouse, buttons scattering across the sheets. He yanked her bra down, exposing her chest. His mouth found one nipple while his hand shoved her skirt up and ripped her underwear aside.
"Sakiko... help me..." Soyo whimpered, reaching toward her friend.
Sakiko sat on the edge of the bed, watching with hollow eyes. She didn't move.
Seiji's fingers slid between Soyo's thighs and found her already wet despite herself. He positioned himself at her entrance.
"Don't..."
He thrust in. Soyo's scream echoed through the office. He didn't wait for her to adjust, setting a brutal pace immediately.
"Sakiko, come here," Seiji ordered between thrusts. "Hold her hands."
Sakiko obeyed. She crawled onto the bed, took Soyo's flailing hands, and pinned them above her head. Their eyes met. Soyo searched for something in Sakiko's face and found nothing.
"Saki... why..." Soyo sobbed.
Sakiko couldn't answer. She just held her down while Seiji pounded into her, the bed slamming against the wall with each stroke. Soyo's protests gradually dissolved into gasps, then reluctant moans she tried to muffle by biting her lip until it bled.
When he pulled out and flipped her onto her stomach, Soyo didn't resist anymore. He pushed back in from behind, grabbing a fistful of her hair, and Soyo buried her face in the pillow and screamed.
"Your turn again." Seiji pulled out of Soyo and turned to Sakiko. "Get on your knees."
He alternated between them after that, using one while the other watched or was made to participate. Sakiko licked Soyo clean on his command. Soyo was forced to watch Sakiko ride him, learning the rhythm she'd need. By the end, both girls lay tangled together on the ruined sheets, too exhausted to even separate.
[System Notification]
[Ding! Target Soyo Nagasaki's psychological defenses shattered. Second stage of submission achieved.]
[Received Reward: Commercial Intelligence Network (Grade B).]
Sakiko lay wrapped tightly in a blanket, completely unresponsive. Soyo was unconscious on the floor beside the bed. Seiji Fujiwara looked at them both and smiled in satisfaction.
…
…
At the same time, in a Tokyo internet café, Uika Misumi sat with dark circles under her eyes, bloodshot gaze fixed on the screen. Genesis Group president Seiji Fujiwara. Net worth in the trillions. Violent temperament. Chaotic private life. Every line screamed the same message: her enemy was a true devil. Ordinary methods would never save Saki-chan.
If she wanted to take someone from a devil, there was only one way. She had to make herself a more desirable offering than Saki. Uika lifted her head, a resolute smile spreading across her face.
...
Tokyo, top floor of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, "The Bar" banquet hall.
Beyond the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, Tokyo's night skyline glittered. Tonight was the celebration for ultra-popular idol duo "Sumimi," whose new single had surpassed one million sales. The air was thick with expensive perfume, cigars, and money.
As the group's undisputed center, Uika Misumi wore a pale moon-colored off-shoulder evening gown. Her sea-blue hair flowed freely down her back, and her delicate makeup made her look both pure and regal. Champagne in hand, she moved smoothly among record label executives, advertisers, and media editors.
"Uika-chan, this single is definitely Song of the Year!" "Misumi-san, next quarter's endorsement is yours if you want it." "No wonder President Fujiwara favors you. Your future is limitless."
Faced with praise from every direction, Uika maintained a flawless professional smile. "Thank you all for your support. It's all thanks to the company. I'll keep working hard." Her responses were impeccable, but only she knew her stomach was churning violently.
Every fake smile made her facial muscles ache. The smell of alcohol alone made her nauseous. Her gaze slipped past the false smiles around her and landed on the deepest booth in the hall.
Seiji Fujiwara sat there. President of the Genesis Group. The shadow controller of Dawn Entertainment. The man who'd turned Sakiko into a plaything. He wasn't wearing a tie tonight. Two buttons of his black shirt were undone beneath his suit jacket, giving him an air of lazy ease. A glass of whiskey with ice rested in his hand as he listened idly to a top producer's report. He wasn't doing anything in particular, yet simply sitting there, he felt like the gravitational center of the entire hall, suffocating everyone around him.
As Uika looked at him, the scene she'd witnessed that night in the office flashed through her mind again. Sakiko's broken moans. The man's rough movements. The suffocating obedience at the end. The memories stabbed into her brain like needles. A wave of dizziness hit, and her glass nearly slipped from her hand.
"Uika-chan? Are you okay?" Her manager caught her just in time.
"I'm fine. I probably drank too fast," Uika said, grabbing the excuse and fleeing to the restroom.
Cold water splashed over her face. Staring at her pale reflection, she forced herself to calm down. For two days she hadn't slept properly. Idol by day, madwoman by night, digging through every scrap of information she could find on Seiji Fujiwara in internet cafés. And the more she learned, the deeper the despair grew. Call the police? Even the Metropolitan Police's upper ranks would have to mind his expression. Expose him? Half the major media outlets in Japan were under his control. No reporter would be stupid enough to publish a powerful man's secret. Normal methods couldn't touch this devil at all.
If she wanted to save Sakiko, there was only one way left. Uika lifted her head and stared at herself in the mirror. This face worshipped by fans. This body labeled an "S-rank asset" by the company. They were the only chips she had left, and her final weapon. If she couldn't break in from the outside, then she'd make him open the door himself. The confusion in her eyes faded, replaced by resolve. She would use her advantages to get close, make him lower his guard, then find his weakness. The plan was reckless, even naïve, but she had no other choice. For Saki-chan, she was willing to become the offering.
…
When Uika returned to the banquet hall, she was different. She stopped reacting passively and began to take the initiative. She accepted every toast, downing glass after glass. Soon, a seductive flush bloomed across her cheeks, and her eyes grew hazy.
"Uika-chan, you can't drink anymore! You've got work tomorrow!" Her manager tried to stop her, frantic.
"It's fine... I'm happy today..." Uika waved her off. Relying on the alcohol, she staggered through the crowd, her path seeming random but actually precise as she drifted toward the booth at the back. By now, the people around Seiji had dispersed. He was resting with his eyes closed.
Now. Uika took a deep breath, pretended to slip, and cried out as she fell toward him. It was an angle she'd rehearsed countless times in her head. Enough to show off her curves without looking deliberate, like a small girl who couldn't handle her liquor, collapsing at his feet to stir a man's protectiveness or his possessiveness.
But just before she hit the ground, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. The world spun, and she fell into a broad chest.
"Miss Uika?" Seiji Fujiwara's low voice sounded beside her ear, amused. "Such a beautiful dress. It'd be a shame to ruin it."
Uika froze mid-step. Through the thin fabric of her gown, she could clearly feel the warmth of his hand. It didn't let go immediately. Instead, it tightened at her waist with a distinctly invasive intent.
"I—I'm sorry, President Fujiwara…" She scrambled to stand, head lowered, words tumbling out like a frightened rabbit's. "I drank too much… I'm really sorry…"
"Is that so?" Seiji remained seated, his deep eyes raking over her, sharp enough to pierce straight through her disguise and expose every calculation in her heart. "I'd say Miss Uika looks quite clear-headed to me."
Her heart clenched. Had he seen through her? Before she could react, he picked up a glass from the table and held it out to her. "It's a celebration. It's no fun if you don't enjoy yourself. Since you've already had too much, one more won't hurt." His smile wasn't quite a smile. "Drink with me."
Uika stared at the amber liquid, then at his eyes, which seemed to see everything. A chill crept up her spine. But he hadn't exposed her. That meant opportunity. She couldn't back down.
"Thank you... it's an honor." Her hand trembled slightly as her fingertips brushed his warm skin and took the glass. Without hesitation, she tipped her head back and drained it. Good. Step one, success. Next was step two: pretend to pass out, then let him do whatever he wanted.
…
The strong liquor burned like fire as it slid down her throat and into her stomach. A powerful wave of dizziness surged up. Her body grew hot, her consciousness slipping. Perfect. This performance needs a little authenticity, she told herself.
She looked into his bottomless eyes, forced a hazy smile, and softened her voice. "Thank you... President Fujiwara... the drink is really good..." Then her body swayed, and she collapsed onto the sofa.
"Uika-chan!" Her manager rushed over in alarm. "You've had too much! I'll take you to the lounge!" Uika pretended not to hear, dodging her manager's hands as she staggered like a kite with its string cut, heading straight for the largest sofa in the corner. She slumped down, completely still.
"Uika-chan!" The manager panicked, reaching out to pull her up.
"She's just tired." A cold voice cut in. At some point, Seiji Fujiwara had already risen and was standing beside the sofa. He looked at the manager calmly, yet the pressure of his authority made her fall silent instantly. "Leave her to me. Go entertain the guests."
"But... Uika..."
"Hm?" He raised an eyebrow. Her heart skipped. She didn't dare argue.
"Y-yes! I understand!" She fled the corner as if escaping for her life.
…
The corner fell silent, leaving only the "unconscious" Uika and Seiji Fujiwara standing over her. He looked down at the girl on the sofa. There was no denying it. Uika Misumi was top-tier. The flush of drunkenness on her cheeks was like fine rouge. Her breathing was even and steady, her chest rising and falling gently. Everything looked real. Perfect.
A playful curve tugged at Seiji's lips. Such clumsy acting. Someone truly drunk wouldn't fall so gracefully. Their breathing wouldn't be this steady. And most importantly, someone completely out cold wouldn't have a heartbeat pounding like a war drum.
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