"My daughter is foolish, always saying silly things. She's close to the young lady of the Shinomiya Family, so she's just a bit worried."
After saying this, he even used his foot under the table to kick his daughter's calf, leaving no trace.
In that instant, Chika felt every drop of blood in her body rush to her head.
Humiliation.
An unprecedented humiliation flushed her face red.
She had been reprimanded mercilessly by her own father, in front of that "Demon King," like an unruly child.
She suddenly began to understand.
At this dinner, she wasn't a "mediator" at all.
She wasn't even... a participant in an equal conversation.
...
The dinner continued, sustained by her father's one-sided, endless stream of "reporting."
And Seiji Fujiwara, from beginning to end, only occasionally responded with an "Mm," or took a sip of sake, looking distinctly uninterested.
But Chika noticed with sharp clarity that her father had begun, deliberately, to steer the conversation toward her.
"By the way, our Chika here, though not particularly bright, has a truly innocent, sunny temperament without any scheming bone."
"She has loved music since she was little. Plays the piano quite well. That counts as a strength, I suppose."
"This child's greatest qualities are her 'purity' and 'cuteness.' In this complicated age, that's something of a rarity."
Every sentence her father uttered cut a bloody slash across Chika's heart.
She felt like a product being eagerly pitched by her own father to an important client.
And the client was sizing up this "product" with a critical, appraising gaze.
An indescribable chill rose from the base of her spine and shot through her entire body.
She forced herself not to dwell on the spine-chilling subtext beneath her father's words.
She told herself in her heart:
This is just political phrasing... courtesy talk... the way adults communicate in their world... Dad is just trying to ease the atmosphere...
At last, the dinner, which had felt like torture, came to an end.
Seiji Fujiwara rose, ready to leave.
"Mr. Seiji, the hour is late. Please take care on the road." Daichi Fujiwara respectfully escorted him to the door.
Then, as though suddenly remembering something, he patted his daughter on the shoulder and spoke in a tone that brooked no argument:
"Chika, the night is so lovely. Why don't you accompany Mr. Seiji on a walk through the garden and see our honored guest off?"
That said, he took his wife's hand and, citing the laughably flimsy excuse of "I have an urgent document to discuss with my wife," briskly left.
In a blink, only Chika Fujiwara and Seiji Fujiwara remained in the vast garden.
The night wind passed through, carrying a hint of chill.
Chika watched her parents' unhesitating departing backs, and her heart sank.
...
The night wind passed through, carrying a hint of chill.
In the garden, only Chika Fujiwara and Seiji Fujiwara remained.
A vast, boundless unease washed over her like a tide.
She instinctively took half a step back, clutching the sleeves of her kimono tightly, her knuckles whitening from the force.
"Mr... Mr. Seiji..." Chika Fujiwara forced out a smile uglier than crying, her voice dry. "It's late. I... I'll see you to the door."
All she wanted now was to end this private moment as quickly as possible.
Seiji Fujiwara didn't move.
He turned around, looked at her with leisurely composure, that amused, all-seeing smile still on his face.
"Secretary Chika." He spoke slowly, his voice unusually clear in the silent garden. "Do you know the real purpose of this dinner?"
"Eh?" Chika froze for a moment, then forced herself to answer with composure. "Of... of course it was to ease the relationship between you and our family... and also... also the matter with Miss Kaguya..."
"No." Seiji Fujiwara laughed softly, the sound full of undisguised mockery.
He took a step forward.
Chika, like a startled rabbit, took another step back.
"Your father is a very clever politician," Seiji Fujiwara said casually. "He understands very well what kind of price one must pay, in this new era, in order to survive, and to live better."
He stepped forward again.
Chika retreated again, until her back pressed against the cold corridor pillar, with nowhere left to go.
"What... what are you trying to say?" Her voice had taken on a faint, uncontrollable tremble.
Seiji Fujiwara stopped a single step away from her, looking down at her face, which was written all over with panic and confusion.
Then, in a flat tone, he said something cruel.
"Your father has already 'sold' you to me."
"...What?"
Chika felt her ears buzz, as though hundreds of bees were crashing around inside them.
Sold?
Dad... sold me?
What an absurd, vicious slander!
After a brief blank, an enormous fury, mixed with the grievance of being humiliated, surged up through her head in an instant.
"You're lying!"
Chika Fujiwara's face flushed crimson, and those big watery eyes of hers, for the first time, burst into flames of anger.
"You devil! Don't you dare slander my father like that!"
She rebutted him heatedly, her voice growing shrill with anger.
"Is that so?" Seiji Fujiwara's face still wore that amused expression. "Whether I'm lying or not, won't it be clear if you just ask him yourself? Or... do you not dare?"
"What is there to be afraid of!"
Chika, like a cat with its tail stepped on, immediately fumbled her phone out of the sleeve pocket of her kimono.
"Fine, I'll ask!"
She would expose his vicious lie right in front of this devil!
She quickly dialed her father's number.
The call connected.
"...Chika? Is something the matter?" Her father's familiar, authoritative voice came through from the other end.
The moment she heard her father's voice, all of Chika's grievance and anger dissolved into tears, breaking the dam.
"Daddy!"
She demanded loudly, her voice choked with sobs, like a child running home to complain to her parents about being wronged outside. "That man! Seiji Fujiwara, he... he just told me... that you sold me to him!"
She waited.
She waited for her father's thunderous rage, waited for his harsh condemnation of that "devil," waited for him to comfort her in his gentlest voice.
However...
The other end of the line fell into a long silence.
No anger. No condemnation. Not even the slightest surprise.
Only silence.
That silence was like an invisible hand, gripping Chika's heart so tightly that she could hardly breathe.
Time passed, second by second.
Every second was a small knife, slicing away at her conviction.
"Daddy...?" she ventured, calling out again in an almost pleading, trembling voice.
A long, long while passed.
At last, from the other end of the line, her father's voice came again.
That voice no longer carried his usual authority and warmth. All that remained was a decision so cold it held no emotion at all.
"Chika..."
"...For the sake of the family, be sensible."
With that, the call ended.
Chika Fujiwara's expression went blank, and she felt her whole body turn cold.
The strength in her body, it seemed, had been completely drained away in that single moment.
Her legs gave out, and she slumped down onto the cold wooden floor. Her splendid kimono spread around her, like a cherry blossom withered in an instant.
Her father's "be sensible" was a rusty, poison-coated dagger, repeatedly and mercilessly stabbing through her heart.
It was... actually true.
Her father had truly... treated her as an item that could be traded away for the sake of the "family."
Just as she sank fully into the abyss of despair, a gentle figure appeared before her.
It was her mother.
Keiko Fujiwara walked over gracefully, holding an exquisite lacquered tray with a pot of hot tea and two teacups on it.
She seemed not to see at all the pitiable sight of her daughter slumped on the floor, soul-stricken, and paid no mind to the phone with its shattered screen lying there either.
On her face was the perfect, impeccable, gentle smile of the lady of the house.
"Mr. Seiji, Chika, the night is cold. Please warm yourselves with some hot tea."
She knelt down elegantly, setting the tea tray between them, then reached out with those exquisitely cared-for hands and gently stroked her daughter's tear-streaked cheek.
The gesture was so gentle, but the words she spoke were as cold and piercing as Arctic wind.
"Chika."
"To serve Mr. Seiji Fujiwara is your resolve as a daughter of the Fujiwara family."
"It is also... a responsibility you must fulfill."
Her father's cold, ruthless "political decision."
Her mother's high-sounding "family honor."
Two mountains came crashing down with a thunderous roar, grinding Chika Fujiwara's world completely into powder.
...
...
The next day.
Student Council Room.
Kobachi Osaragi hadn't slept a wink.
The scene she had witnessed before kept replaying in her mind like a nightmare. The moment she closed her eyes, she would jolt awake in a cold sweat.
She arrived at the Student Council Room very early today, holding on, deep inside, to a faint sliver of hope.
She hoped Chika Fujiwara would burst in as usual, full of energy and noise, proving with her unique, chaotic way that the world hadn't completely gone insane.
But when the door of the Student Council Room was pushed open, her hope shattered entirely.
Chika Fujiwara walked in.
She didn't shout her usual "Good morning!" She didn't come charging in like a cannonball.
She walked in quietly, her steps slightly unsteady.
There was no expression on her face.
Those amethyst-like eyes, which always sparkled with curiosity and vitality, were now as hollow as two pools of dead water, without a trace of light in them.
She didn't even glance at Kobachi Osaragi, as though no one else existed in this room except for the man sitting in the president's seat.
Chika Fujiwara walked straight up to Seiji Fujiwara's desk, took a document out of her bag, held it in both hands, and respectfully presented it to him.
"Director."
Her voice was flat and dry, carrying no emotion.
"This is my... personal assistant application."
"I am applying to become your in-school 'personal secretary.'"
Kobachi Osaragi's pupils contracted to pinpoints.
Personal... secretary?
She stared at that application in disbelief, then looked at Chika's mask-like face.
She could not understand at all what had happened.
In a single night, where had that noisy, troublesome Secretary Fujiwara gone, the one who would go through fire for her friends, who would yelp at the smallest thing, but who was at heart unspeakably kind?
And this girl in front of her now...
This girl with hollow eyes who was voluntarily applying to be the Demon King's assistant, who was she?
Seiji Fujiwara didn't even look at the application. He simply pinched it between two fingers and casually set it aside.
"Very well." He nodded. "Then, Secretary Fujiwara, as my personal secretary, your first task..."
He pointed to his own shoulder.
"...Come here and massage my shoulders."
"Yes."
Chika showed not the slightest hesitation, no resistance whatsoever.
She simply nodded, gave her acknowledgment, then went around behind Seiji Fujiwara and reached out with her soft little hands, clumsily but with the utmost seriousness, kneading his shoulders for him.
"Harder," Seiji Fujiwara ordered flatly, his eyes closed.
"Yes." Chika's fingers pressed harder, her knuckles whitening slightly from the effort.
"A bit to the left."
"Yes."
"Lower."
"Yes."
That mechanical, call-and-response exchange made Kobachi Osaragi feel as if she had been dropped into an ice pit.
She watched Chika's terrifyingly obedient figure and felt her own breathing grow difficult.
Kaguya and Ai Hayasaka watched the scene coldly from the side. Their faces showed no expression. It was as though they were merely watching a newcomer joining their ranks, those known as "collectibles."
Kobachi Osaragi could not bear to watch any longer.
She jolted to her feet, said nothing, and fled the Student Council Room as if running for her life.
This Demon King was, in a way she could not comprehend, devouring everyone around her, one after another.
This Student Council had been thoroughly and completely turned into hell.
...
At the same time.
The National Diet Building of Japan, the Prime Minister's office.
Daichi Fujiwara, full of confident spirit, was receiving several political heavyweights from within the ruling party, men who had previously belonged to factions other than his own.
"Prime Minister Fujiwara, regarding the fiscal budget for next quarter, our faction will unconditionally support all of your decisions."
"That's right. We believe that under your leadership, the nation will surely..."
Those political old foxes who had once paid him lip service and obstructed him at every turn were now like the most docile sheep, faces piled with humble smiles.
Daichi Fujiwara smiled and accepted their "fealty."
In his heart, there was not the slightest guilt toward his daughter.
There was only the supreme satisfaction of holding power in his hands.
Soon, the news spread quickly through the upper circles of Japanese politics.
The Fujiwara family had officially become the most central, most stable ally in the political world of that king of the new era, Seiji Fujiwara.
Everyone understood what had been exchanged for this enormous, sky-falling honor, this honor great enough to reshape the power structure of the nation.
It had been exchanged for that beloved daughter who, at all sorts of banquets, had always been the life of the party.
But no one felt there was anything wrong with this.
In their view, this was nothing more than a very successful political investment, one with an extremely high rate of return.
...
In the evening, the Student Council Room.
It had become Seiji Fujiwara's exclusive private lounge.
Chika Fujiwara, in a specially tailored secretary's uniform rushed into production overnight, was clumsily pouring tea for Seiji Fujiwara, performing her duties as his "personal secretary."
That uniform was cut more closely than the original school uniform, outlining the budding curves of her young figure to full effect.
Kaguya and Ai Hayasaka stood as attendants on the other side, as usual, watching the scene with cold detachment.
The former Student Council had now, for the first time, gathered three full "maids."
[Ding!]
[Congratulations, Host, on successfully conquering 'Chika Fujiwara.']
[Received Reward: Passive Skill [Chaotic Stance]. Your behavior will become difficult to predict. Your words and actions will naturally carry a chaotic quality where truth and falsehood are hard to distinguish, making it harder for both enemies and allies to judge your true intentions, and easier for you to mislead and manipulate them.]
Seiji Fujiwara felt the newly acquired ability and nodded with satisfaction.
This ability would make his games of manipulating people's hearts even more unstoppable.
His domestic arrangements were, by this point, nearly perfect.
In politics, the Fujiwara family served as his proxy. In business, everything was already firmly in his grip. And the future elite class was being continuously branded with fear and obedience within Shuchiin, that "Academy of Kings."
His gaze turned toward a wider, international stage.
Just then, the encrypted terminal on his desk received a new report.
The title of the report was:
[Industry Cooperation Assessment Regarding Next-Generation FullDive VR Technology]
At the end of the report was attached the family profile of the partner company's president, the head of RECT, Shouzou Yuuki.
And a photograph of his daughter.
[Read 80+ chapters ahead on Patreon: patreon.com/NiaXD]