Aizono Moe covered her face with both hands, feeling her cheeks burn like they'd been held over a stove.
Covering her face was pure instinct—a self-preservation reflex, an attempt to wall herself off from the outside world and escape the shame that clung to her like a second skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, not daring to replay the scene that had just unfolded, but the image kept flashing through her mind anyway, making her feel even more utterly mortified with each loop.
Her throat felt like something was lodged in it—no matter how many times she swallowed, it wouldn't go down. Her body kept trembling, every single cell screaming out the sheer humiliation of that moment.
This is definitely going to be… a core memory for life…
Like a stake driven into the foundation of her memory, for the rest of her future, every time she went to the bathroom, she would recall this incident. And that wave of cringe would surge forth again and again…
People with low self-esteem don't have many clear happy memories. But mistakes? Embarrassing moments? Humiliating disasters? Those get seared into their brains with crystal clarity. They can't forget them, no matter how hard they try. Those memories torment their minds on constant repeat.
Aizono Moe was exactly that type.
So there was no way she could forget this now. In fact, the more she tried to forget, the more vividly she remembered everything.
After replaying the experience in her mind over and over, Aizono Moe suddenly recalled what Kuroha Akira had said.
That's right… Kuroha-kun said he would take care of the rest…
Even in a moment like this, Aizono Moe was still more concerned about following Kuroha Akira's instructions. She didn't dare forget them—she prioritized their execution above all else.
Moreover, she truly hadn't finished earlier. Because after Kuroha Akira picked her up, she didn't want to get any more on him, so she desperately held back the remaining portion.
Now she could finally continue to relieve herself.
This time, it was in the correct place—the toilet—and in the correct posture—sitting—to perform a normal physiological function.
This made Aizono Moe feel both relieved and also strangely… something else.
As everyone knows, forcefully interrupting mid-stream can be very uncomfortable and might completely kill the urge. But because the interruption hadn't been very long, Aizono Moe's sensation hadn't fully faded. As she continued, she quickly got back into the rhythm.
Don't misunderstand—this is just about urinating.
Here's a fun fact: when a girl holds her urine, the pressure can actually produce a certain intense sensation. And when she finally releases, she experiences the pleasure of release—two interactive experiences in one. This time, Aizono Moe held it, then leaked, then held it again, then released it, resulting in two continuous waves of pressure-to-release. Without realizing it, she became mildly addicted to the feeling.
On top of the generous dopamine rush her body provided, the psychological shift also had a tremendous impact on her.
Her mind was filled with Kuroha Akira's face. His expression was so clear that she felt she could draw a detailed portrait of him right then and there.
She remembered it so vividly because Kuroha Akira's calm demeanor had given her an unprecedented shock.
At first, the shame of having caused trouble made her want to sink straight into the ground. But immediately afterward, Kuroha Akira had "covered up" for her with his actions.
For a girl who "feared making mistakes," this was simply the highest form of indulgence.
The dirty liquid that even I despised had touched Kuroha-kun…
But Kuroha-kun didn't even frown. He accepted it nonchalantly…
Even though it was dirty and disgusting, he was still willing to carry me…
He probably doesn't hate me, right? That wasn't just my imagination, was it?
If he really hated me, there's no way he would have helped me clean up… Even I can see that much.
Kuroha-kun is truly gentle…
Because Kuroha-kun is a strong person, he probably doesn't care about such "small matters"…
"Hehe…"
A low, suppressed giggle escaped through her fingers, and the corners of her mouth curled upward involuntarily.
A dark, twisted sense of pleasure fermented in Aizono Moe's heart.
She had always been terrified of having her weaknesses discovered. So she constantly belittled herself, wronged herself, accommodated others, and conformed to everyone around her. Broken, numb, but obedient.
Now, however, her greatest weakness had been exposed to Kuroha Akira—and even her worst, most humiliating state had been witnessed by him.
Even her dirtiest urine had gotten on him…
And yet, he accepted all of it.
He didn't look down on her.
Aizono Moe knew that this was mostly because Kuroha Akira simply didn't care about such small things. But for her, this was the first time in her life she had ever felt a sense of unburdened liberation.
No need to worry about being disliked. No need to fear being abandoned. No need to constantly try to read his thoughts.
Precisely because Kuroha Akira was someone who "cared more about money than people," his actions felt even more reassuring to Aizono Moe.
Because if he disliked something, he would say so. If he found it disgusting, he wouldn't have helped her. If he found it troublesome, he would have abandoned her.
This was different from Asato Hitomi and Shirai Shiori, who cared deeply for her. With Kuroha Akira, she didn't have to fear "letting him down."
Even around her family, she couldn't completely let her guard down. There were things she didn't want to tell them—doujinshi she didn't want her parents to discover. But even if Kuroha Akira knew those secrets, it wouldn't feel particularly bad.
Then Aizono Moe realized: from now on, she wouldn't have to hide herself in front of Kuroha Akira. Not even her most undignified self.
"Fufu… Kuroha-kun… hehe…"
At this thought, she couldn't help but giggle again.
With the whole "wetting herself" experience as the catalyst, Aizono Moe's long-suppressed emotions had finally found an outlet.
That outlet was Kuroha Akira—a powerful being capable of embracing her tiny, insignificant existence.
She could expose her entire self to him without reservation…
What should she call such a being?
Kuroha Akira's previous words resurfaced in her mind.
(My dear Aizono, my lovely Moe-chan… have you forgotten? You already agreed to be my exclusive illustrator.)
Exclusive illustrator. Exclusive. Illustrator.
What she cared about most was the word "exclusive." When she first heard it, Aizono Moe couldn't help but fantasize about something awful—like exclusive Nihonbashi or something equally embarrassing.
*In the adult video (AV) industry, an "exclusive" (Senzoku) contract means an actress works strictly for one premium studio, which carries higher prestige, massive marketing, and a much larger budget compared to a "freelance" (Kikaku) actress.
Why "Exclusive Nihonbashi" is Embarrassing: Nihonbashi is famous for being a historic, extremely elite, and upscale business/financial district in Tokyo. By smashing the high-class, prestigious name of Nihonbashi together with the word Exclusive, her brain instantly jumped to a fantasy about an incredibly high-end, elite, or hyper-luxurious secret adult service or high-class soapland/brothel catering exclusively to wealthy elites.
Recalling that word at this moment, the not-so-innocent Aizono Moe instantly thought of a particularly fitting appellation.
Almost immediately, her head shook frantically like a rattlesnake on caffeine. Her hair whipped around, even smacking against the partition of the toilet stall.
Her cheeks flushed from extreme shame. Her lips pressed tightly together. Her desperate head-shaking seemed to defy her own instincts—yet also to guard the last line of defense in her heart.
But, well… so-called "bottom lines" are meant to be broken. Especially when no one else is around…
Anyway, there's no one else in the restroom, and Kuroha-kun can't hear… so maybe I'll try calling him just once?
Once the idea formed, she wanted to act on it immediately.
Aizono Moe extended the tip of her tongue slightly and gently licked her dry lips.
That small movement carried a hint of imperceptible nervousness. Her dry lips became slightly moist with the touch of her tongue, yet they still appeared somewhat pale.
Her fingers unconsciously touched her lips, feeling the slight roughness. Slowly, she opened her mouth.
In the silent atmosphere, she clearly heard her own voice.
"…Master…"
Some things, once done, cannot be undone.
Even if it's just a title.
Once branded, it cannot be erased.