"Mr. Jin, please follow me."
The worker who received him at the entrance was so generic that Jin would forget her before reaching the end of the hallway. Gray suit, corporate smile, clipboard.
She guided him through the main door and the campus unfolded before him like the cover of a prestigious academy brochure. Lush trees casting shadows over stone pathways, gardens with flowers that looked like they had been placed by hand one by one, buildings with unique architecture that oozed money from every brick.
Everything breathed refinement.
"Before the interview, you will need to undergo a medical examination." The woman explained as she walked without looking at him. "This way, please."
She led him to a white building, and upon crossing the door, Jin found himself in a lobby full of candidates.
There was everything. Beefy guys with square jaws who looked like they'd been pulled out of a gym, middle aged men in suits with "I need the job" expressions, young guys who looked like fresh graduates. Groups of two and three scattered around the place, chatting or staring at their phones.
And when he walked in, several heads turned.
"Damn, that's one handsome kid."
The comment came from a stocky guy near the door, loud enough for half the lobby to hear. Some gazes settled on Jin with curiosity, others with that hostility men reserve for other men who make them look bad by comparison.
"What good is being handsome?" A young man with glasses and a know it all attitude spoke with disdain. He looked like a teacher. "For a school counselor position, what matters is professional ability."
But the bald guy next to him chuckled, crossing his arms. "Dude, if the girls see a teacher with that face, their depression gets half cured without even needing therapy."
"You...!" The one with glasses glared at him and turned his head, pressing his lips tight.
Another from the group, a guy in his mid thirties with an unkempt beard, lowered his voice. "Doesn't anyone else think the requirements for this position are weird? No specialization restriction, no age limit, no minimum experience... The only requirement is being male. What kind of selection process is that?"
"Who knows." The bald guy shrugged. "I sent my resume because the pay was absurdly high. I didn't expect them to accept me."
"Maybe the position is already rigged from the start and they brought us in to keep up appearances."
"If that's the case, at least they should pay for our transportation..."
The conversation kept spinning between complaints and speculation, but Jin had already stopped listening.
He walked calmly to the back wall, leaned against it, and crossed his arms.
The question wasn't why the requirements were so lax. The question was what the people behind this were really looking for, and what they planned to do with whoever they selected.
The minutes passed.
At two thirty sharp, a side door opened and a woman with a clipboard poked her head out.
"The first five candidates, please. We'll proceed to the medical examination."
...
When Jin's group of five entered the exam room, a woman in a white coat was waiting behind a desk.
"Take off your clothes."
?
The four in the group looked at each other uncomfortably. They exchanged nervous glances and began unbuttoning slowly.
Jin, on the other hand, yanked off his shirt, pulled down his pants, and left them folded on the chair in less than ten seconds.
He stood there in his boxers, and silence fell over the room.
His muscles weren't those of a bloated bodybuilder or a retouched model. They were those of a functional combat machine: defined with sculptural precision, every muscle group visible beneath the skin without a single gram of excess fat, with that compact density that gave away real power.
Under the fluorescent light of the room, his body looked like diamond.
The two workers flanking the doctor swallowed at the same time. The one on the left forgot what she was writing on her clipboard. The one on the right stopped pretending she was looking at something else.
Seeing the reaction Jin provoked, the other four slowed down even more. What had been shyness turned into resistance, and only under the staff's impatient insistence did they reveal bodies that life hadn't treated with the same generosity.
The middle aged man from his group, the same one who had cracked the joke about depression, stared at the beer belly hanging over the waistband of his underwear, then looked at Jin's abdomen, and let out a sigh that came from the depths of his soul.
"The years don't spare anyone..." He shook his head with nostalgia. "Back in my day, I was just as impressive."
???
The looks he got from the other three said it all: 'Not even in your wildest dreams, old man.'
...
Half an hour later, the twenty five candidates were gathered in the lobby again.
The doctor planted herself in front of them with a list in hand and read it.
"Tsubakihara Jin. Shikabito Goro..."
Five names. Nothing more.
"Those named have passed the physical examination and will advance to the interview phase." She lowered the list and swept the rest with a neutral gaze. "The rest may leave. Thank you for your time."
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the group. Out of twenty five candidates, twenty had just been cut in one stroke in what was supposed to be a selection process for a school counselor, not for special forces.
Jin held the first spot on the list. Expected.
What he didn't expect was the composition of the rest.
He glanced at the other four who had survived. Three of them were gray haired men with weathered faces. And the fourth was a tall, thin young man, hunched over, in inexpensive clothes, with the downcast gaze of someone used to going unnoticed.
The beer belly man, who miraculously appeared among those who passed, pointed at himself with his mouth hanging open. "I really passed?"
He seemed just as surprised as everyone else that he was there.
"This has to be a mistake!"
The voice of the young man with glasses cut through the disbelief. He pushed his way through the eliminated candidates with his face red with indignation and pointed at those who passed.
"Are you sure the results are correct? How is it possible that these old men are stronger than us?!" His finger went from the beer belly man to the hunched one in humble clothes. "I have a master's in clinical psychology and I get eliminated in the physical test! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!"
"The results are what they are." The secretary cut him off sharply with a coldness that allowed no reply. "Please leave."
The guy opened his mouth to keep protesting, but the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from the hallway silenced him. Two security guards built like wardrobes appeared at the end of the corridor, walking in his direction.
Clenching his fists, the man swallowed whatever he was going to say and left along with the rest of the eliminated candidates.
Jin watched it all without expression.
From what he remembered, the Academy's recruitment pattern had a logic to it: they looked for men in desperate situations, cornered by debts, legal troubles, or personal circumstances that made them easy to manipulate, but who still maintained an acceptable physical condition.
The male protagonist of the Hentai was the perfect example: drowning in massive debt, with no options, and apparently with some kind of prior connection to the headmistress. A man with no way out who could be easily controlled.
Good thing he had spent a thousand points modifying his personal file on the way here.
The five who passed were guided by a secretary up the stairs, through increasingly silent and carpeted hallways until they reached the top floor of the administration building.
A small waiting room greeted them beside a dark door with a gold plaque: "General Administration"
"Please wait here. I'll come call you in a moment."
The secretary left them seated, walked to the door, and knocked twice.
"Come in."
She disappeared inside and the door closed behind her.
...
On the other side of that door, the headmistress's office was exactly what you'd expect from the power center of an elite academy: spacious, impeccable, with wooden bookshelves covering the walls. A massive desk dominated the center, flanked by institutional flags.
But none of that mattered once you saw the woman seated behind it.
Rikka Sumeragi.
Headmistress of Seika Jogakuin Academy.
Her hair was long, thick, a deep black that absorbed the light. She wore it up in a high bun held by a golden ornament, but the sheer volume was such that wavy strands fell along the sides of her face and over her shoulders, framing her features with a wild elegance.
And across her forehead, a prominent streak of silvery white broke through the darkness like a frozen bolt of lightning, sliding past her temple to rest upon her chest.
Her face was that of a woman who had been devastatingly beautiful in her youth and whom maturity had only sharpened.
High cheekbones, a defined jawline, full lips holding a neutral line. Gold framed glasses rested on the bridge of her nose, and behind the lenses, a pair of violet eyes that observed everything with coldness.
And the suit...
Dark red. Impeccably tailored. The blazer hugged her torso like a glove, tracing straight shoulders and a narrow waist before opening at the neckline. And that neckline was a statement of intent: a deep V bordered by the black lapels of the blazer that left exposed a generous territory of skin and the swell of breasts that pushed against the fabric with authority.
The skirt, the same red, embraced her hips and thighs down to her knees. And below, a pair of crossed legs wrapped in semi transparent black stockings drew lines that would have distracted a monk in deep meditation.
She wasn't simply an attractive woman.
Without the slightest expression on her face, Rikka received the files the secretary handed her.
"These are the ones who passed the physical exam?"
"Yes, Headmistress."
"Understood. You may leave."
With a brief bow, the secretary exited, closing the door without a sound.
Alone in her office, Rikka opened the folder and began reviewing the files one by one.
...
Dropping the first three sheets onto the desk, Rikka sighed.
Garbage. All three. Men broken by vices, debts, or both. Exactly the kind of candidates the board of directors wanted, and the kind that turned her stomach.
Leaning back in her chair, she removed her glasses and massaged the bridge of her nose.
No one knew better than her the rotten currents crawling beneath the gleaming surface of Seika Jogakuin Academy.
The most prestigious all girls academy in Tokyo? The cradle of elites, heiresses, and future leaders? Ha. What a joke. Only she knew that this academy was a powder keg with the fuse already lit, and that every passing day the fire crept closer.
The problem was structural and had been building for years. The academy's rules were extremely harsh: strict discipline, rigid schedules, and an absolute prohibition on romantic relationships. For the elite families who sent their daughters here, those rules were a guarantee that their princesses would remain "pure" and focused.
For the girls who actually lived within these walls, it was a pressure cooker with no relief valve.
Hundreds of teenagers in the full boil of hormonal turbulence, locked in an exclusively female environment, with zero contact with the opposite sex and zero outlets for what was churning inside them.
The result was predictable: skyrocketing anxiety, rising cases of depression, self harm that the medical staff reported with increasing frequency, and rumors of suicide attempts she fought to keep out of the media.
The situation was devouring her.
Every report that arrived weighed heavier than the last, every new case reminded her that she was failing to protect the girls entrusted to her.
And on top of it all... she couldn't even take refuge in a personal understanding of what those girls felt. Or rather, she could understand it all too well.
She had devoted every ounce of her life to education. Every year, every month, every night had been invested in building her career, earning this position, keeping the academy afloat. And the price of that absolute devotion was that, in her mid thirties, she had still never experienced a man's hands on her body.
She was a virgin.
Not out of moral conviction or lack of suitors, but simply because she never had the time, the mental space, or the necessary vulnerability to let herself go. And lately, with the stress piling up and the nights stretching on in solitude inside her office, her own body had begun reminding her with growing insistence that she was a woman before she was a headmistress.
Shaking her head, she forced the thought out.
This wasn't the time.
Her solution to the students' problem had been obvious: she presented the board of directors with a proposal to hire a male "special counselor." Someone who, under strict supervision, would help the students relieve the emotional and physical pressure that was destroying them.
The board approved the proposal with barely any discussion.
But the conditions they imposed disgusted her.
"The candidate must come from the lowest stratum of society. No resources, no connections, no way out. A man like that will be easy to control."
Rikka clenched her fists. Her nails dug into her palms hard enough to leave marks.
A man with no way out? "Easy to control"? The language they used wasn't that of executives concerned about student safety.
And when she combined those conditions with certain rumors circulating about the academy from before she took her position, the conclusion that formed was revolting.
The board's true purpose wasn't to help the students. It was to corrupt them. Break them. Turn them into disposable toys for men with enough money to buy the silence of an entire institution.
And the "special counselor" was nothing more than the first piece of that mechanism.
'How am I supposed to run this academy surrounded by these cockroaches...?'
Her nails sank deeper. A thread of pain ran through her palms, but she used it to anchor herself, to keep the rage from clouding her judgment.
She couldn't act yet.
The board had too much power, too many connections, and if she made a move, they'd remove her and put someone more compliant in her place.
But she wasn't alone.
That morning she had received a secret letter from Asagi, her absolutely trusted friend. The message was brief, but its contents had restored the hope she'd been losing for weeks.
Asagi had already sent people to secretly investigate the members of the board of directors.
'Just a few more days...'
Loosening her fists, she exhaled slowly, letting the tension leave her.
She trusted Asagi. If anyone could dismantle that web of rot piece by piece, it was her.
For now, patience.
With resolve, she put her glasses back on and moved to the next page.
Her violet eyes scanned the first lines.
And stopped.
"Tsubakihara... Jin?"
________
Time: If you're craving more (and I know you are!), I have just what you need. On my Patreon, you'll find exclusive chapters. Join our community and be the first to discover what happens next!
👉 [patreon.com/Athome790]
Your support fuels me. Thank you for the support! đź’–