Fuyumi Irisu wanted to fight back. She wanted to slam this report into his face. She wanted to curse this devil with the most venomous words.
But she couldn't.
In her mind, her father's aged, exhausted face surfaced, along with the crazed and despairing crowd outside the hospital.
She no longer had the right to resist.
Her only value lay in pleasing Seiji Fujiwara, in becoming the most useful blade in his hand, the sharpest one.
"What's wrong?" Seiji Fujiwara's voice rose again.
The hand roaming inside her blouse seemed to feel the stiffness of her body and deliberately pressed harder.
"My secretary, do you really need this much time just to read a simple financial statement? Or has your defeat at Masao Takahashi's petty tricks taken even your most prized professional ability away from you?"
That insulting goading was, instead, like a shot of adrenaline stabbed into Fuyumi Irisu's nearly numb heart.
Fuyumi Irisu drew a deep breath.
She forced down all the humiliation and stray thoughts.
She concentrated all her focus on the report before her.
Her body trembled with every thrust from behind. He was fucking her at an unhurried, methodical pace. Each stroke drove her forward against the cushion. Her knees skidded on the carpet. Her breasts swung loose under her open blouse.
Wave after wave of unfamiliar pleasure crashed over her will like a tide, leaving her drowned in shame.
Yet her face still maintained that "professional," ice-mountain calm.
Her voice, too, came out almost mechanical, devoid of emotion, absolutely cool.
"Reporting to Boss. According to this report, Abundant Future's revenue last quarter grew 22% year-on-year, with net profit growing 18% year-on-year. On the surface, the numbers look very healthy."
Fuyumi Irisu's tone was steady, as if she were delivering a report at a serious meeting.
But only she knew how much willpower each word cost her.
Seiji Fujiwara listened with great interest.
He didn't interrupt. He simply began to drive into her harder. Each thrust deeper, more deliberate. The slap of his hips against her ass filled the room beneath her clinical voice.
He wanted to savor it. To savor the extreme split-beauty of this young woman. Her body sinking into hell, while her soul fought to maintain its noble bearing.
"However,"
Fuyumi Irisu's voice paused. He had driven into her harder, deep enough that the impact of his hips against her ass made her body lurch forward against the cushion. She forced the shudder down. Her fingertips went white from the pressure of her grip on the document.
"I've found several anomalies. First, their accounts receivable turnover days extended from 45 days last quarter to 72 days this quarter. This indicates their collection capability is deteriorating significantly. The quality of their revenue growth has serious problems."
"Second,"
She continued, fine beads of sweat already forming on her forehead.
"Their inventory turnover ratio has also shown an abnormal decline. Combined with the first point, I strongly suspect they are engaging in 'channel stuffing' to manufacture attractive revenue figures. That is, dumping large quantities of inventory onto distributor channels."
"Third, and most critically."
Her breathing began to grow ragged, but she forced herself to continue.
"On their balance sheet, the line item for 'long-term equity investments' increased by nearly thirty billion yen in the span of a single quarter. Yet the financial statement footnotes disclose no specific acquisition projects. This is highly unusual. I deduce that they have very likely set up complex offshore companies and trust funds to shift large amounts of debt and bad assets off the books, in order to dress up the statements."
Her analysis was precise, profound, and went straight to the bone.
It fully displayed her business genius.
Seiji Fujiwara listened while murmuring softly in her ear.
"Excellent analysis... Secretary Irisu, your 'point of entry'... so accurate... always finding the most critical place, just like... this..."
"Mm... your view of their 'internal' structure... is also very penetrating... I love this spirit of yours, this drive to explore deeply..."
"Remarkable... how quickly you uncovered the secrets they had hidden in the 'depths'... your insight is truly... bottomless..."
Those words were like daggers dipped in poison, slicing into her spirit one cut at a time.
Fuyumi Irisu's analysis began to come out in broken fragments.
"Acc... according to the supplementary information in the cash flow statement... they... their net cash flow from operating activities... and net profit... show... show an enormous... gap..."
She couldn't go on.
Because the man behind her had reached around her hip, found her clit with two fingers, and started circling it in time with his thrusts.
The combined assault completely robbed her of the ability to think. Her arms gave out. Her face came down hard against the leather of the cushion, against the spread pages of the document. Her cheek smudged the ink.
He drove in again. And again. His fingers did not stop on her clit.
She broke.
Her pussy clenched around him in a long, desperate convulsion. Her thighs tried to close and could not, his body between them. A cry tore out of her throat that she could not suppress in time. She came hard, longer than she had ever come in her life.
He did not stop fucking her through it.
He drove in two more times, deep, hard. Then he gripped her hips with both hands, held her still, and emptied himself inside her.
She felt the heat of it. She felt his cock pulse against the walls of her pussy. She felt the rush of warmth filling her up.
Her face was wet against the leather. She had not realized she was crying.
The cold face she had forced to maintain composure could no longer hold, and a dazed expression broke through.
...
In that instant, the cold system notification chime rang in Seiji Fujiwara's mind:
[Congratulations to the Host for conquering 'Fuyumi Irisu.' Stage-2 reward acquired: Human Metabolic Reconstruction and Gene-Induced Repair Technology.]
The objective had been achieved.
Seiji Fujiwara wasted no further attention on her.
He pulled out of her slowly. Cum spilled out of her pussy and ran down the inside of her thighs onto the carpet. He stood and unhurriedly straightened the sash of his bathrobe. As if nothing had just happened.
At the same time, he looked down at the beautiful "secretary." She was still slumped against the sofa cushion. Her body twitching faintly. Her cheek pressed to the leather. Her blouse open. Her skirt around her waist. Her panties around one knee.
"Report received. Your analysis was valuable," Seiji Fujiwara said evenly.
"Tomorrow morning at seven, come here and accompany me to the symposium."
With that, he walked straight to the bathroom.
It took an unknown stretch of time before Fuyumi Irisu recovered a sliver of consciousness from that out-of-body state.
She knelt on the carpet, straightening the disheveled business suit, smoothing every wrinkle from her pencil skirt, and even gathering her scattered hair back into its bun.
Once everything was done, she slowly rose to her feet.
Facing the closed bathroom door, she answered softly: "...Yes, Boss."
Her struggle was over. Every struggle she had as the independent being known as "Fuyumi Irisu" came to an end in this moment.
...
...
The next day, Tokyo.
The nation's highest-tier medical symposium was held with great ceremony at the National Convention Center.
Inside the venue, every seat was filled.
Every prominent authority, expert, and scholar in Japan's medical world, along with reporters from the major mainstream media outlets, had gathered here. Camera flashes went off in waves. The atmosphere was fervent and solemn.
And today, the absolute protagonist of this symposium was without question Masao Takahashi.
President of Abundant Future's Japan division.
He was the director of this stage play, and also its most resplendent leading man.
At this moment, he stood center stage under the spotlights, delivering his keynote with high spirits. The theme of his speech was "On the Ethical Risks and Social Responsibility Behind New Medical Technologies."
"Ladies and gentlemen! Science is a double-edged sword!"
Masao Takahashi's voice carried through every corner of the venue via the microphone.
That voice was full of magnetism and rhetorical force.
"It can bring us blessings, but it can equally bring destruction! Not long ago, in our very own Kamiyama Region, a seemingly miraculous 'anonymous treatment' appeared."
On the enormous screen behind him, his fabricated "clinical report" appeared at once. The report was filled with all kinds of sensational data.
"On the surface, it cured the flu. But in reality? It is overdrawing patients' lives! It is paying for the shameful, irresponsible arrogance of its creator with the health of our next generation!"
His speech drew waves of supportive applause from the audience. Those so-called "authorities" had long since been bought off with money and political influence. They wore expressions of agreement and admiration, one after another.
Masao Takahashi greatly enjoyed this feeling of having everything under control.
He was firmly convinced that he had completely seized control of public opinion and the entire academic establishment.
He was about to welcome the most glorious victory of his career.
Just as he was preparing to deliver his closing remarks, the perfect period at the end of his triumph, the doors at the back of the venue were slowly pushed open.
A young man walked in.
He was accompanied by two assistants, one man and one woman, his expression calm.
His arrival drew little attention.
But the few scholars seated in the front row, the moment they saw that young man, their pupils contracted sharply. They were the truly top-tier, unbuyable, national-treasure-class scholars.
The heir of the Fujiwara conglomerate, Seiji Fujiwara!
What was he doing here?
Seiji Fujiwara paid no mind to anyone's gaze.
He walked straight to the front row and seated himself leisurely at one of the chairs. The seat had long been reserved for him, his name engraved on it.
The female "assistant" behind him, however, gave even more shock to the people who recognized her.
Wasn't that the genius young woman of the Irisu Family, Fuyumi Irisu?
She now wore an impeccable black business skirt suit.
A pair of gold-rimmed glasses sat on her face, her expression cold, with none of her former pride or sharp edge.
The young woman stood quietly behind Seiji Fujiwara, like a shadow, the most loyal and emotionless shadow.
In the eyes of the seasoned operators in the audience, this scene instantly conveyed countless pieces of information.
Masao Takahashi on the stage naturally saw it too. His pupils likewise contracted ever so slightly.
Seiji Fujiwara... was he the "anonymous hero"?
The thought flashed through, only for him to dismiss it himself.
Impossible. How could a man who had entered the pharmaceutical industry less than a year ago possess that level of technology?
The most Seiji Fujiwara could be doing today was lending the Irisu Family some political backing.
At that thought, a more confident smile curved at the corner of Masao Takahashi's lips.
Trying to suppress me with power?
Seiji Fujiwara, you are too naive.
What I represent, standing here today, is the "justice" and "truth" of the entire Japanese medical world.
Within the rules, you have no chance of winning.
"Oh? If it isn't Mr. Seiji of the Fujiwara family." Masao Takahashi deliberately raised his volume.
His tone was mock-surprised, dripping with sarcasm.
"What a rare guest. I had no idea you'd take an interest in our dry medical symposium. What's this, are you here to seek justice on behalf of your... mm, 'friend,' Miss Irisu?"
He pointedly stressed the word "friend."
A wave of knowing snickers rose from the audience.
Seiji Fujiwara didn't lift his head, didn't even glance at him.
Such complete disregard left Masao Takahashi feeling the prick of being slighted.
He decided to step up the firepower, aiming his attack directly at Fuyumi Irisu standing behind Seiji Fujiwara.
"Miss Irisu."
He spoke with a tone of pity-laden sanctimony, like an elder lecturing a junior. "As an outstanding figure of the younger generation, I had placed great hopes in you. But you allowed your eyes to be blinded by some immature, dangerous technology. You even went so far as to put the entire population of the Kamiyama Region at enormous health risk! And now, you seek to evade responsibility by hiding behind a conglomerate's protection? You disappoint me!"
His words were spoken with righteous fervor, brimming with moral superiority.
Fuyumi Irisu's body went stiff. She kept her head lowered.
Beneath the gold-rimmed glasses, her beautiful eyes flashed with deep humiliation and anger. But she bit down hard on her lip and didn't say a word.
Because, just moments ago, the master in front of her had given her an instruction. The voice only the two of them could hear.
"Stand. Listen. Watch. Without my permission, no expressions, not a single word. Just consider yourself a beautiful ornament that belongs to me."
And Seiji Fujiwara, only at this moment, finally raised his head slowly.
His gaze fell on Masao Takahashi up on the stage. In his eyes, Masao Takahashi was nothing more than a clown leaping about.
A faint smile played on his face, as if he were looking at something already dead.
This clown's performance needed to come to an end.
...
Masao Takahashi's speech was over.
That performance had been steeped in moral superiority and hypocrisy.
The host walked onto the stage and announced in an animated tone, "Thank you, Mr. Takahashi, for the magnificent speech! He has revealed for us the ethical abyss we must guard against behind the development of technology! Next, let us welcome our next speaker with equally enthusiastic applause, from the Fujiwara conglomerate, Mr. Seiji Fujiwara!"
The applause came thin and scattered.
Most of the audience watched the young man slowly rising from the front row with the look of people anticipating a good show.
Their eyes were full of that look of waiting for entertainment.
Masao Takahashi also stepped down with a smile on his face.
He brushed past Seiji Fujiwara, even nodding politely to him.
Seiji Fujiwara paid no one any mind.
He carried no slides, no script, not even an assistant.
He walked, empty-handed, step by step, up onto the stage.
The entire venue fell silent in an instant.
Every gaze focused on him.
He didn't go to stand behind the lectern. He stood directly at the center of the stage. As if this were not some serious medical symposium, but his own living room.
Seiji Fujiwara surveyed the audience.
Those faces were full of curiosity, contempt, suspicion, and schadenfreude. At last, his gaze settled on the front row.
There sat his "private secretary." From beginning to end she had been like an ice sculpture, expressionless.
Fuyumi Irisu felt his gaze.
Her head lowered, her hands resting flat on her knees, her body held ramrod straight. She didn't know what Seiji Fujiwara was about to do. But in her heart, against her will, a sliver of anticipation rose.
She anticipated this devil tearing apart another devil.
That devil had driven her into a dead end and toyed with her completely. And this other devil had driven her right into his hands.
Fuyumi Irisu wished the two of them would take each other down together.
But she also knew with painful clarity that Masao Takahashi was nowhere near worthy of being this man's opponent.
Seiji Fujiwara looked at his secretary, a satisfied smile flickering across his face.
Then he turned his gaze back to the crowd below the stage.
He picked up the microphone.
"Mr. Masao Takahashi, your speech just now was wonderful."
The audience broke into a stir.
No one had expected the first words out of Seiji Fujiwara's mouth to be "praise" for his opponent.
Masao Takahashi was momentarily stunned.
Then a victor's magnanimous smile spread across his face. He thought Seiji Fujiwara was preparing to back down.
However, Seiji Fujiwara's next words plunged the entire venue into a deathly silence.
"It's just a pity that the whole thing was a pack of lies."
His voice wasn't loud, but it struck every heart in the room like a heavy hammer blow.
"Your so-called 'side effects' are the most venomous curses your impoverished imagination could conjure up. That imagination of yours is stuck in the last century. Your so-called 'clinical report' is the most clumsy, riddled-with-holes piece of forged evidence I have ever seen. Your so-called 'social responsibility' is nothing but a fig leaf. Used to cover your filthy, nauseating commercial agenda."
With every sentence, the muscles on Masao Takahashi's face twitched.
"You..."
Masao Takahashi shot to his feet. He pointed at Seiji Fujiwara, his face flushed with humiliated rage. "Mr. Fujiwara! This is open slander! What evidence do you have?!"
"Evidence?"
Seiji Fujiwara reacted as though he'd just heard the joke of the century.
"I know that many of you here, like Mr. Takahashi, are full of doubt and confusion about my technology."
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