She lifted her eyes. Those eyes that had once flickered with the light of intelligence now held only the stillness of dead water.
In a voice that carried no emotion, Fuyumi said, "Because in this place, 'right' and 'wrong' are defined by the boss. Our task is not to question, but to understand and execute. That is the first rule."
She paused, lowered her voice further, as if stating a simple truth.
"Resistance only makes things more complicated, more painful. Calmly accepting is the most efficient method, and the only one that will let you get through this with less suffering. That is... what I have learned."
"Learned?" Eru sounded as if the word had stabbed her. She stared at the senpai she had once held in such respect, disbelieving. "You treat something like this... as work experience?"
"What else, then?" Fuyumi answered.
The corner of her mouth curved into a smile of bitter self-mockery. "Chitanda-san, what do you think you are doing here tonight? Saving your family? Satisfying your curiosity? No. You and I are the same. We are simply learning how to please the boss more skillfully."
She gave Eru no further opening to question her. She turned and walked toward the dressing room.
"Please, follow me. The boss has given his order."
The word "order," like a great mountain, finally crushed the last of Eru's will to resist.
She followed Fuyumi silently into the enormous dressing room. The lights were on, every fixture filled with elaborate, gorgeous garments. Fuyumi walked past all the expensive evening dresses without pause. From the racks, she drew out only one piece: a simple, pure white silk slip dress.
"Change into this." Fuyumi handed it to her.
Then she stood off to one side, her face expressionless, watching her without any intention of looking away.
A fierce shame rose in Eru.
Under her senpai's cold gaze, the kind one fixes on a product being inspected, she bit her lower lip. Slowly, clumsily, she began to untie the obi of the kimono she had cherished. She peeled away, layer by layer, the traditional garments that represented her family and her status. She slipped on the thin dress.
The fabric was slippery. It clung to her body, sending an uncomfortable chill across her skin.
It felt as though it covered nothing at all.
When she returned to the study, Seiji was already seated on the central sofa. He pointed to the carpet at his feet. A soft Persian rug.
"Kneel."
Not "sit." Kneel.
The word made Eru's body go rigid. Seiji watched her, a look of amused interest on his face.
"What's wrong? Did your senpai not teach you the second rule? In this room, without my permission, you do not have the right to sit."
Eru looked toward Fuyumi, almost begging.
But Fuyumi only avoided her gaze.
At the same time, Fuyumi walked, ahead of her, to Seiji's other side. She knelt down quietly, obediently. She refilled his black tea. Her movements were so practiced, so natural, as though she had repeated them a thousand times.
The demonstration was more persuasive than any words.
Eru's cheeks flushed deep red. Slowly, she let her knees fold beneath her.
"Eru Chitanda."
Seiji finally turned the full weight of his gaze on her. His eyes were sharp as blades, as though they could cut through every part of her.
"You came here for an 'answer.' I allowed you in to satisfy my own 'curiosity.' This is a transaction. Do you understand?"
"...I understand," Eru answered in a low voice.
"Good." Seiji nodded. He leaned forward, voice taking on a teasing edge. "Then I will set the terms of the transaction. From this moment on, you are no longer the eldest daughter of the Chitanda family. You are a 'research subject' I am using to satisfy my curiosity. Your task is to cooperate, without condition, with every 'experiment' I conduct."
He stood. From a drawer beside him he took a silk ribbon.
"My first experiment is on 'cognitive separation.'"
He walked over to Eru and looked down at her from above.
"Vision is the human sense most prone to bias and misdirection. To allow you to observe and feel things in a more 'pure' state, I need to deprive you of your sight, temporarily. That way, your 'research report' will be more objective. Don't you agree?"
Eru's body went tense in an instant. She drew back without thinking.
"But I need to use my eyes... if I cannot see..."
"You are not in a position to make requests."
Seiji's voice turned cold. The smile, however, stayed on his face. "You think you are engaged in some equal academic exchange? No. You are using everything you have to trade for the survival of your family."
"Your only value, in this moment, is to please me. To make this 'research' interesting."
He glanced at Fuyumi, kneeling at his side. "Fuyumi, tell her. Tell her what happens if she resists me."
Fuyumi raised her head. Her voice came out hollow.
"The boss will lose his patience. Once the boss loses his patience, the deal is over. The Chitanda family will go bankrupt at once. Your father, in despair, will take his own life. And you will lose the only chance to save them. You will be cast out."
Every word landed like an icicle in Eru's chest.
She looked at her senpai's numb face. She knew every word was true.
Seiji extended the ribbon to her. His tone returned to its playful edge.
"Put it on yourself. Or I'll have your senpai do it for you. I'm curious. What kind of expression would she wear, watching her own kohai blindfolded in front of her?"
The cruelty of the alternative made Eru shudder all the way through.
She did not want her senpai to suffer any further on her account.
With trembling hands, she accepted the ribbon. Slowly, humiliated, she tied it across her own eyes.
The world went black.
In the dark, she heard Seiji's satisfied, low laugh.
"Good. You're already adjusting."
"Now, to help you settle into your role as 'research subject,' you'll need to perform a small bit of psychological preparation. Tell me, out loud, what your identity is now."
Eru stayed silent. She did not want to speak.
"Say it." Seiji's voice carried a command that allowed no defiance.
Her body shook. With shame, she forced out the words.
"This is... a special kind of 'investigation'... I am an objective observer... analyzing a research subject I have never encountered before..."
She was trying to use this self-hypnosis to construct one last line of mental defense.
"Good." Seiji's voice came near her ear, threaded with cold mockery. "Then let us see how long this 'observer' can stay objective."
The dark amplified every sense.
Eru could clearly hear the soft hum of the air conditioning. She could hear the almost-nonexistent breathing of her senpai. She could hear Seiji's steady, powerful heartbeat.
She felt him step in front of her. A faint scent came off him: tobacco and woodsmoke, intruding into her nose.
Then a warm, large hand closed around hers.
"Step one of the experiment: tactile cognition." Seiji's voice was calm. The tone of a real researcher. "I will guide your hand to touch various parts of the research subject. Your task is to describe your observations. In a professional, calm tone, free of personal feeling. Fuyumi, you will record her report and evaluate her professional accuracy."
The order made both Eru and Fuyumi go rigid at the same instant. This was not only torture for Eru. It was a public execution of Fuyumi.
Seiji guided Eru's hand. He placed it first on his forearm.
Eru's body jolted. She could clearly feel the firm contour of the muscle under his arm, and the veins running thick beneath the skin.
"...Describe," Seiji prompted.
Eru drew a deep breath. She forced herself into the role of "observer." Her voice came with an unmistakable tremor, but she fought to keep her face composed.
"Subject A-1. Skin temperature slightly above average human, approximately 37.5 degrees Celsius. Muscle tissue extremely firm, high density, very low subcutaneous fat. Initial assessment: long-term, high-intensity, systematic training."
"Very good. Very professional." A note of approval threaded Seiji's voice, but the larger part was amused mockery. He glanced at Fuyumi, who was making a difficult notation on her tablet. "Fuyumi, what do you think of this report?"
Fuyumi kept her head down. Her voice was dry. "...Description is accurate. Language is objective. Meets the standard of a junior researcher."
"Did you hear that, Eru? Your senpai gave you a fairly good evaluation." Seiji laughed softly. He guided her hand higher, to his chest, and pressed it over the position of his heart.
"Subject B-1. Describe."
Beneath her palm was the steady, powerful beat of his heart. Each pulse transmitted clearly into her hand, as though it intended to set her own heart resonating with it. Her own heartbeat had begun, against her will, to accelerate.
"Heart... heart rate stable, approximately seventy beats per minute. Pulse strong, vigorous. Cardiac function... excellent." She fought to keep her voice level, but her quickened breathing had already given her away.
Seiji acted as though he had not noticed. He simply rested his other hand lightly on her own chest, mirroring the position of her palm on his.
"An interesting comparison." His voice came as a low murmur near her ear. "The 'subject's' heart rate is seventy. The 'observer's' heart rate... I would guess has already passed one hundred and twenty. Chitanda-san, your body does not seem to be as 'objective' as your words."
"This... this is... a normal stress response!" Eru immediately defended herself.
"Is that so? Then let us continue to increase the 'stimulation' and see where your limit lies."
Seiji's tone stayed calm. But his hand began to guide her hand downward.
"Stop... let go..." Eru drew back a little.
Let go? How could that happen?
Seiji laughed softly and went on.
"Chitanda-san, what are you 'observing' now? Your senpai is still waiting to take notes."
Eru's mind was a chaos. The startling heat and size she could feel beneath her palm filled her with instinctive fear.
Her mouth was open, but not a single word would come out. She fought to keep her face calm, but her continually trembling lips and her ashen face had already laid the storm inside her completely bare.
Her line of "objectivity" was, in this instant, on the verge of falling.
"Can't speak?" Triumph filled Seiji's voice. "It's all right. It seems passive contact alone can no longer satisfy your 'inquiring spirit.' We need something deeper, more interactive. Consider it a small assessment of your professional ability."
He took hold of her hand, now cold and stiff, and guided it slowly downward.
"The most important 'core of the puzzle' is not here. Bring out your professionalism, Chitanda-san. Your senpai is watching."
A high-voltage current seemed to pass straight through Eru's body.
A short, sharp gasp escaped her, suppressed in her throat. Her body went rigid in an instant, like a fawn caught by a leopard's jaws. All her strength was drained from her in a single beat.
She tried, hard, to pull her hand back.
But Seiji's hand was an iron clamp. It would not let her retreat by even a fraction.
"What's the matter?" His voice came at her ear. "Aren't you the one who is curious about everything? In front of you now lies a domain you have never encountered. You should feel excitement, not fear. This is part of the assessment. If you cannot describe it, you fail."
Eru's lips trembled. She murmured to herself.
"Heart rate... one-forty... blood pressure rising... cortisol and adrenaline... being secreted in volume... amygdala... overactive... this is... a typical case of acute stress disorder..."
"Your analysis, at its root, is wrong."
Seiji let out a soft laugh, cold as a verdict. Then, with sudden force, he pulled her down and pressed her against the cold carpet.
"You have been trying, all along, to use your 'knowledge' to explain my 'force.' You think you are conducting objective analysis. You are only using that ridiculous theory of yours to cover up what your body is most truly feeling. Humiliation. Fear. And one more thing you do not even want to admit. Excitement. The excitement of being controlled by overwhelming force."
He bent down and tore the ribbon from her eyes. He forced her to look at him.
A film of mist had already formed in Eru's gaze.
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