With a sudden force, her fist grazed past my cheek.
I barely dodged it in time.
Before I could even breathe, a second punch shot toward my face like a bullet.
I rolled backward over the sofa—very ungracefully—just to avoid being hit on the face.
"W–wait! If you don't want to, we won't do it! I swear!"
I shouted while scrambling to my feet.
Eri glared at me with fire burning in her eyes.
"Trust you? As if! You're just like every other guy—pervert!"
Her face was flushed with anger, hair swaying wildly as she stomped toward me.
I backed away instantly.
And just like that, we were circling the sofa like two idiots: me fleeing, her chasing me like a furious cat ready to bite my head off.
"Okay, okay—listen!"
I raised my hands defensively, trying not to trip.
"You have the remote! You're the one holding all the power! I was just giving an idea—just an idea! If you don't like it, just say no! There's no need to attack me!"
But she didn't stop glaring.
Thinking fast, I kept talking, desperately trying to cool her temper before she rearranged my face.
"Look—seriously—hear me out. If we can't do it, fine. Then we can… we can buy another person with the remaining money. Someone already returned for recycling. They— they're going to face something even worse otherwise, right? We save them, give them a better fate, and we earn money at the same time. Win–win! Wh–what do you think…?"
Eriko paused for a second when she heard my words.
Her fist lowered slightly, though her eyes stayed sharp.
"With the remaining money you have for the next few months… you're seriously planning to buy another love doll if I don't like this idea?" she asked slowly, as if testing every word.
I nodded.
She didn't explode again—surprisingly.
Instead, she looked like she was weighing the idea carefully in her mind.
"So," she continued, arms crossed, "how exactly did you plan to… sell porn?"
"I was thinking about uploading on foreign platforms," I explained. "Using a VPN. We still have access to some international subscription porn websites. We could post short previews for free and the full-length stuff behind paywalls."
Eriko narrowed her eyes.
"And how long would it take to generate actual money?"
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "Maybe a month? Two? It depends on the content, the audience, the algorithm… Until then, we'll have to endure some hardship. I'm not gonna lie."
She stared at me for a long moment.
"And how much money can it make?"
"Why are you asking? You're not getting a share if I'm making videos with someone else. She'll be the one getting the split."
Eriko clicked her tongue.
"Just say it already. At least try to convince me, you idiot."
"Like hell I know everything," I muttered.
"Let me check…"
Seeing that she had finally calmed down—and most importantly, wasn't trying to hit me anymore—I let out a quiet breath and pulled out my phone.
If we were going to survive in this twisted world, I had to do this.
So I opened up several sites and forums, checking what people actually earned from homemade porn.
It wasn't as simple as "upload and get money" as I said earlier.
Earnings depended on a whole mix of factors: whether the creators showed their faces, how good their lighting was, how often they uploaded, what kind of audience they targeted, and even which platform they chose.
As I scrolled through the numbers, I started calculating the rough income range.
Beginners, the ones who recorded simple self-made videos, usually earned around 100,000 to 200,000 yen a month.
They uploaded rarely, kept their identities hidden, and had basic production quality.
They were considered the low-end earners—small audience, slow growth, but steady enough if they stayed consistent.
Moderate earners, though, made noticeably more.
Some pulled in anywhere between 200,000 yen to nearly a million per month.
These were the people who posted weekly or bi-weekly, showed at least part of their identity, invested in better cameras and lighting, and built a small fanbase on social media.
Their income wasn't stable, but it was high enough to make a difference.
The more I read, the more the numbers began forming a picture in my head.
Following that, I moved on to the top-tier creators—the ones who earned anywhere from one to four million yen per month.
These people operated on a completely different level.
They uploaded polished, high-quality porn, showed their faces openly, built loyal fanbases, and maintained a consistent release schedule.
Many of them offered memberships, ran fan communities, and posted on multiple platforms at once.
And then there were the true outliers—the exceptional accounts earning even more.
Those were practically celebrities in the adult industry, far beyond anything ordinary people could replicate.
After gathering all the information I could, I handed my phone to her.
We sat together on the sofa, her fingers scrolling through the data with a surprisingly focused expression.
I waited for her reaction, trying to read her face.
"So… what do you think?" I asked quietly.
She stayed silent for a while, her brows slightly knitted as she processed everything.
Then she nodded to herself, almost like she was trying to convince her own heart before speaking.
"How about we record… just a simple video of us kissing? To upload."
I blinked at her, baffled.
"Kissing? I don't think that's how it wo—"
Before I could finish my sentence, a sharp notification chimed.
[Ding! Mouth-to-mouth kiss meets the minimum criteria for recording.]
I stared blankly at the glowing system panel floating in front of me, completely speechless.
I hadn't expected the system to have such a low requirement.
Before I could finish my sentence, Eri was already staring at me with a slight frown, waiting for my answer.
Feeling cornered, I hurriedly nodded.
"Deal! We… we can start with that," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll open the account. So… when do we start the first recording?"
She tried to sound calm—like it was nothing—but her cheeks and the tips of her ears were glowing red.
I could tell she was embarrassed just thinking about it.
"…Tomorrow evening," she whispered.
So she needed time to mentally prepare.
Honestly, a single day wasn't much, but from her perspective, it was probably the minimum she needed to brace herself.
A heavy sense of guilt settled in my stomach; even if she agreed on her own, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was pushing her into something uncomfortable.
But the situation… the world we were in… forced me to swallow my dissatisfaction.
"Okay," I said softly.
"When I come back from school tomorrow, I'll buy a better camera for the shoot—"
Before I could finish, she snapped her head toward me, eyes sharp.
"No more spending money on unnecessary things until we earn some ourselves. Got it?"
"But camera quality is important for—"
"This phone you bought," she cut me off firmly, "has a good enough camera. As far as I checked… we can start with this."
I blinked.
"When did you check the camera?"
She looked away, avoiding my eyes completely.
Apparently, she had spent more time exploring the phone than I realized.
"Do you understand what I said?" she asked, her tone is unwavering, the kind of look that said she wouldn't compromise no matter what I tried to argue.
I understood her fear clearly.
If I wasted the 'little money' I had left… if we couldn't pay the mandatory government maintenance fees… her fate would be worse than death.
That was why she didn't want me spending money on anything unnecessary—even defective items marked for recycling.
She didn't want me to take any risk that could put her in danger.
And in that moment, it hit me.
I was manipulating her—pressuring her with money, pushing her with fear.
…Seriously?
Had I really sunk that low?
I forced a smile and raised my voice in a light, joking tone.
"Yes, Madam…"
She nodded in satisfaction, completely missing the guilt curling in my chest.
Silence settled over the room again—thick, awkward, suffocating.
I sat there, painfully aware of my own actions.
I had lied about my financial situation, exaggerated our desperation, and pushed her toward something she would normally consider unthinkable.
Just few hours ago, she had been suddenly taken in by the government's love doll program and thrown into this kind of mess without warning.
And now, after everything she'd been through today, she had to listen to my frantic explanations and messed-up plans.
She must think I'm the absolute worst.
Trash. Scum. A manipulative, unreliable excuse for a human being.
And honestly… from her point of view, she wouldn't be more wrong.