"You were vague about it, but the moment I heard the name 'Seiji Fujiwara,' I knew."
Sakiko spoke slowly, each word deliberate.
"I can tell you straight. Everything you're facing right now... I've been through it."
"Sakiko...?" Mutsumi's eyes went wide.
No emotion in Sakiko's voice. She could have been reading someone else's biography. "Resistance. Arguments. Running away... everything you can think of, I've tried."
"And the result?" A ghost of self-mockery in her tone. "He stripped it all away. Using methods even crueler than whatever you're imagining."
"Mutsumi... the harder you struggle, the tighter he pulls."
"So..."
"Accept the situation early. It'll be easier on you."
Beep... beep... beep.
The line went dead.
...
Meanwhile. Roppongi Hills. Seiji Fujiwara's private study.
He stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, taking in the city below.
His phone screen lit up on the desk.
A message from Sakiko.
Four words: [Mutsumi contacted me.]
Seiji smiled.
Running to Sakiko for help?
Pointless.
Whether before or after Sakiko became his, Mutsumi Wakaba was never going to find salvation through Sakiko Toyokawa.
...
The Wakaba residence. Bathroom.
Mutsumi was still holding the phone to her ear.
Sakiko's words echoed on loop.
Pointless.
The harder you struggle, the tighter he pulls.
Accept the situation early. It'll be easier.
Even Sakiko... proud, brilliant Sakiko... had become this.
So what could she do?
What could anyone do?
Helplessness crashed over her like a tidal wave.
Mutsumi slid down the cold bathroom door and sank to the floor.
She buried her face in her knees, pale green hair falling in a messy curtain, hiding everything.
Is there really...
...no other way but to agree to his demands?
...
Late that night.
Only a few dim sconces lit the Wakaba villa.
Mutsumi sat in the corner of the sofa, hollow-eyed and vacant.
She's ready.
Seiji watched her and smiled to himself.
He produced a brown envelope and tossed it onto the coffee table in front of her.
Thud.
The sound cracked through the silence.
Mutsumi's pupils focused. She stared blankly at the document.
"Have a look."
Seiji's voice was calm.
"I think, as his daughter, you deserve to know what your father did."
Father...
The word pricked something in her, sharp and small.
Her gaze dropped to the file.
A private investigation report.
The first page was a photo of Takafumi Wakaba. Black and white. The man who'd once been warm and gentle in front of her looked like a stranger.
Mutsumi read in silence.
Each word seared itself onto her retinas.
Honey trap. Loan shark scheme. Fraudulent setup. Violent coercion. Video blackmail.
The report laid out, in meticulous detail, how her father had been lured step by step into a trap designed by the Yamaguchi syndicate, saddled with debts that snowballed beyond control.
The yakuza's methods were dirty, certainly.
But her father's stupidity had done half the work for them.
Her fingers tightened on the paper.
There was... all of this too?
Seiji's voice broke through her thoughts.
"Mutsumi. Want me to bury all of this?"
"I could make every one of those people disappear into Tokyo Bay. Legal means, illegal means... whatever you say, I can make it happen."
A pause. A smile.
"The price, of course, you already know."
The room went silent again.
This time, Mutsumi stayed quiet for a long time.
She didn't argue. Didn't accuse him of using her father against her again.
Because this time was different.
Last time, Seiji had traded her father's dirt for her body. And afterward, he'd kept his word. The dirt had vanished.
He was a devil who honored his deals.
This time, it was something else.
So...
Mutsumi lifted her head slowly and stared at the ceiling.
The chandelier stung her eyes.
Memories surfaced.
When she was small, her father had taken her to summer festivals. Whatever she pointed at from the food stalls, he'd buy it with a grin.
The first time she performed at a school festival, Takafumi Wakaba sat in the audience, clapping clumsily.
He'd been a terrible husband. Not a clean man by any measure.
But to Mutsumi, he'd been... a passable father.
Better than Minami, at least.
As his daughter, she owed him that much. To protect whatever dignity he had left.
Sigh...
Mutsumi exhaled softly, lowered her head, and spoke.
"Okay."
The instant the word left her, she felt a numb kind of relief.
Like a drowning person who'd been thrashing for too long, finally letting go, sinking into the dark.
No escape.
So... accept it.
It wasn't that big a deal.
All she had to do was agree to his twisted demands. Really, what did that mean? Some extra steps before sex. Humiliating little performances tacked onto the beginning.
In the end, she'd still be on her back with her legs spread.
What was fundamentally different?
Just a more annoying process, that was all.
Mutsumi told herself this.
"Good."
Seiji nodded with satisfaction and stood.
He walked to the study, returned a moment later carrying something.
A book.
A doujinshi.
"Read this."
He set it in front of her.
"The next game is roleplay from this." His tone was easy, casual. "Memorize the setup."
"Fine."
Mutsumi picked it up.
Expressionless, she opened to the first page.
The artwork was stunning. Clean lines, gorgeous lighting, every expression on the characters' faces brimming with story.
The content, though, made her frown.
The plot wasn't anything she hadn't expected. A demon lord using threats and temptation to turn a girl into his personal toy, one step at a time.
But there was one special mechanic.
Common Sense Modification.
The male lead could rewrite "common sense" so that everyone in the world would treat depraved, absurd acts as perfectly normal behavior.
He wants me to memorize this garbage?
The further she read, the more disgusted she looked.
Typical Seiji Fujiwara...
But ultimately, she'd still have to do it.
Mutsumi confirmed the conclusion she'd already reached. It was just extra performance. Tedious, pointless theater before the inevitable.
She finished reading, closed the doujinshi calmly.
"I've memorized everything."
"Good." Seiji's grin widened.
He said nothing more. Just leaned back into the sofa, stretched out, and settled into a comfortable pose.
Then he made a "go ahead" gesture toward Mutsumi.
Begin your performance.
Mutsumi stood. Switched on instantly.
Her eyes went blank and distant, as though Seiji Fujiwara didn't exist in her field of vision.
She turned and walked into her bedroom.
"Flawless acting." Seiji followed behind, genuinely impressed. "No wonder Minami says your talent surpasses hers."
Mutsumi ignored him completely.
She walked to the bed like she always did, but didn't lie down.
Instead, a look of vague confusion crossed her face. Her lips moved.
As if remembering something.
A strange line of dialogue, murmured to herself:
"Oh, almost forgot. In my own room... I don't need to wear clothes."
She began unbuttoning her uniform.
Blouse. Skirt. Stockings...
Each piece fell away soundlessly, baring Mutsumi's slender, pale body.
Throughout, her expression didn't change. As though she were doing something perfectly ordinary.
Seiji leaned against the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed, watching with open amusement.
The last garment hit the floor. She stood fully naked.
She walked toward the bed, then stopped again.
"Right."
As if remembering a rule, she crawled onto the bed on all fours, then lowered her chest to the mattress, face down, ass raised.
"...To make sure I'm ready to be used."
"...I need to check three places for cleanliness and... how open they are."
"Have to do it every day."
She reached back with both hands and spread herself open. Pussy and ass, fully on display.
"Mouth first." She turned her head toward Seiji, opened wide, stuck out her tongue. "Clean."
She shifted her fingers lower. Spread her pussy apart. Cool air on wet skin.
"Front... clean. Properly stretched."
Last. She moved her fingers higher, parting her ass.
"Back... clean. Ready."
Goosebumps crawled across her skin. Her ears burned red. But her face didn't change.
Seiji leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"Thorough."
Mutsumi let go, stood, and walked toward him.
She bit down on her lower lip and forced herself through the next set of lines.
"To keep in shape, I need to 'exercise' every day."
"Especially the fat around my waist."
"I have to keep moving my hips to burn it off."
"Mm, before I start, I need to lock my body in place."
While reciting, she lowered herself into Seiji's lap.
He was already hard. She could feel it through his pants, pressing against her bare pussy. Part of the script — she had to "lock her body in place" before "exercising." Which meant reaching down, unzipping him, pulling his cock out, and sinking onto it herself.
Her fingers fumbled with his belt. She kept her face blank the entire time. Just a girl doing her daily exercise routine. Nothing unusual.
She wrapped her hand around his cock and positioned it beneath her.
"Locking... in place..."
She sank down.
"Nn..."
The sound slipped out before she could stop it. She caught herself, reset her expression to neutral, and started moving her hips.
"Exercise... exercise..."
Monotone. Deadpan. Hips rolling in slow, mechanical circles, grinding down onto his cock like she was working through a set of reps.
That was the script. The "common sense" version — this wasn't sex, this was exercise. She wasn't riding a man's cock, she was burning calories. Perfectly normal daily routine.
The humiliation of saying it with a straight face while his cock was buried inside her was worse than anything he'd done to her before.
But the real problem was that it felt good.
Her pussy clenched around him with every roll of her hips. That traitorous body of hers was already soaked, already gripping and milking him on its own, the involuntary contractions making each movement send jolts of pleasure up her spine.
"Exercise... exer... cise..."
Her voice cracked. The rhythm of her hips stopped being mechanical and started being hungry. She was grinding harder, faster, chasing the friction, her thighs tightening around his waist.
Seiji didn't move. Didn't thrust. Just sat there with that smile, letting her do all the work. Letting her fuck herself on his cock while reciting lines about daily exercise.
"Ah... hah..."
The deadpan shattered. Her head tipped back, mouth open, moaning openly now, bouncing in his lap. Her hands gripped his shoulders for leverage as she rode him harder, the wet slap of skin filling the room.
She came with her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, pussy clamping down, whole body shaking. But she didn't stop moving. Couldn't stop. Her hips kept rocking through the orgasm, greedy and desperate.
"Good form," Seiji murmured. "Keep going. You haven't finished your set."
Mutsumi whimpered. Her hips obeyed.
...
Outside the room.
Minami had just finished her own workout and was heading to shower when she passed her daughter's bedroom door.
The sounds coming from inside stopped her.
They were... intense. Sweet and desperate, the kind that melted straight through bone.
Mutsumi's really into it today?
Minami thought, genuinely surprised.
...
Over the following days.
The "Common Sense Modification" roleplay became Mutsumi's routine after school.
The first few days, she still had to act.
The process was clumsy, halting.
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