---
After reciting her address aloud, Hirose Yoru's heart became a tangled mess.
The conflict churning inside her chest refused to settle.
Her mind began to wander—spiraling into dangerous territory.
Could it really be...?
Did Riku actually spend his part-time earnings on that phonograph just because she'd mentioned liking it once? Just a single, throwaway comment about something she loved?
Yoru immediately shook her head, sending her dark hair swaying.
No. Absolutely not.
This was obviously one of Riku's sugar-coated traps. A honeyed poison designed to lower her guard.
She refused to fall for it.
Riku finished inputting the shipping address and settled into the leather seat beside her. The old couch creaked under their combined weight, and Yoru became acutely aware of how close his thigh was to hers—the fabric of his pants nearly brushing against her bare knee where her skirt had ridden up.
"Not bad at all," he said, scrolling through the confirmation screen with evident satisfaction. "They're throwing in seven special vinyl records. I picked Sossia's Fourth Symphony for you—figured you'd appreciate that one."
Simply perfect.
His voice dropped lower, almost conspiratorial.
"This should burn through most of my savings, though."
Despite his words, Riku's expression radiated pure excitement. His eyes practically sparkled.
What he didn't say aloud—what remained locked behind that handsome, infuriating face—was that this single purchase would trigger a cashback of six million yen through his Hedonist System. The return on investment was astronomical.
But Yoru heard only the surface meaning.
She found herself unable to parse the man sitting next to her.
On one hand, he'd done such despicable things to her. Humiliating things. Things that made her skin crawl and her face burn with shame whenever the memories surfaced unbidden.
On the other hand... he was apparently willing to spend the majority of his money on a gift for her?
The contradiction made her head spin.
After wrestling with her thoughts for what felt like an eternity, Yoru finally spoke.
Her voice emerged softer than before. The razor edge of disgust had dulled—if only slightly.
"Can you... return it? That thing is far too expensive." She swallowed, her throat dry. "I don't have money to pay you back."
"You don't need to."
Riku's exterior remained calm and unbothered, but internally, his heart seized.
If Yoru rejected the gift entirely—
His thirty thousand yen investment would evaporate into nothing. Completely wasted.
You can't refuse this. How the hell am I supposed to get my rebate if you don't accept?
Riku turned toward her quickly, leaning in just enough that she could smell his cologne—something clean and masculine that seemed designed to confuse her further.
"I could tell you genuinely loved those things," he said, his voice dropping into something almost earnest. "And... look, I know I've done some really messed up stuff. I'm not going to pretend otherwise."
He paused, holding her gaze.
"But this isn't compensation. That's not what this is. I just... thought you'd be happy to have it."
The words landed with unexpected weight.
Yoru found herself speechless.
She couldn't remember the last time someone had read her so easily—had noticed her lingering touches on dusty display cases, her wistful sighs over things she could never afford.
[Hirose Yoru — Favorability: -60]
Riku exhaled slowly, relief washing through him.
Got her.
The silence stretched between them like taffy. Yoru's fingers twisted in her lap, pale and uncertain.
Finally, she spoke again.
"I'm sorry... but I'll still return it. I'll pay you back eventually."
Riku felt his composure cracking. Negative favorability targets were ridiculously difficult to work with. Every step forward seemed to slide two steps back.
Though I suppose that's what justifies the twenty-fold return multiplier...
He had no choice.
Time to deploy the nuclear option.
Riku leaned closer—close enough that his breath ghosted across the shell of her ear. His lips nearly brushed against her earlobe as he spoke, low and dangerous.
"If you don't want anyone finding out what happened today... you'll accept this gift. That's non-negotiable."
The effect was immediate.
Whatever softness had crept into Yoru's expression shattered like glass.
Her features twisted with fresh revulsion. The disgust that had momentarily faded came roaring back tenfold.
"You absolute scum."
Her voice trembled with barely contained fury.
I actually thought he'd changed—even for a second—
"Is this all just entertainment for your sick, perverted amusement?" Her eyes glistened, the threat of tears making them shimmer under the shop's warm lighting. "Does degrading me give you some kind of twisted thrill?"
In that moment, Yoru felt the full weight of her humiliation pressing down on her chest.
Being threatened was one thing. She was strong. She could endure a lot.
But this—
Being brought to her favorite shop, surrounded by things she loved, only to have those very things weaponized against her...
It made her stomach churn with nausea.
[Hirose Yoru — Favorability: -70]
[Hirose Yoru — Favorability: -80]
[Hirose Yoru — Favorability: -90]
[Hirose Yoru — Favorability: -95]
What the—
Riku's mind went blank with panic.
Five more points and he'd hit the absolute floor. Rock bottom. Complete and total enemy status with zero room for recovery.
The narrator's voice echoed through his consciousness like a death knell:
「You have successfully triggered Hirose Yoru's shame response. Through your actions, you have become the person she despises most in this world. Bar none. To proceed, you must carefully dismantle her psychological defenses piece by piece. Only then can you fully claim control over her. Your next objective: accompany Hirose Yoru to her residence. After all... her mother is waiting for her return. And waiting for you...」
---
After finalizing the phonograph purchase, they left the vintage shop.
Yoru's gaze now carried something beyond disgust.
Hatred.
Pure, undiluted hatred radiated from her dark eyes whenever they flickered toward Riku's direction.
He sighed internally.
Supporting her weight as she limped alongside him, Riku couldn't help but feel he'd selected a catastrophically wrong dialogue option somewhere along the way.
The walk home passed in suffocating silence. Yoru refused to acknowledge him beyond the bare minimum required for her injured body to keep moving. Her warmth pressed against his side felt more like condemnation than closeness.
---
They rounded the corner toward Yoru's apartment complex—
And immediately spotted a figure pacing nervously below her building.
Sato Shiro.
Even from a distance, his anxious body language was unmistakable. Hands shoved in pockets, then pulled out again. Checking his phone. Looking up at the windows. Checking his phone again.
The moment Shiro noticed Yoru approaching—leaning against another man's body—his face cycled through several distinct shades of distress before settling on a sickly green.
He charged toward them, anger poorly masking his panic.
"Who the hell are you?!"
Shiro's eyes locked onto Riku with naked hostility.
"Yoru—who is this guy?"
His voice cracked slightly.
"Why are you... why is he... why are you together like this?!"
Yoru kept her head lowered. Her dark hair fell forward, curtaining her expression. She said nothing.
Riku, however, had no intention of playing defense.
Strike first. Ask questions never.
"Your girlfriend collapsed and injured her leg. Did you know that?" His tone dripped with disappointed condescension—like a tired teacher addressing a particularly dim student. "Why the hell are you interrogating me? I should be asking you where you've been this whole time."
He clicked his tongue.
"Ask her yourself. I happened to be passing by and helped her get home. That's it."
The preemptive strike landed exactly as intended. Shiro stumbled backward—metaphorically and almost literally—completely blindsided.
"I... I..."
Whatever fire had been burning in him guttered and died. His inherent weakness rose to the surface, exposed by Riku's aggressive energy like a nerve laid bare.
He stuttered uselessly for a moment before managing:
"Y-Yoru... are you okay?"
Witnessing her boyfriend's spineless display, Yoru felt something inside her chest crack.
Disappointment.
It wasn't a new feeling—not really—but its intensity surprised her.
She couldn't bring herself to look at Shiro. Her voice emerged quiet and fragile:
"Shiro... I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. Can you... can you just leave? Please?"
Shiro's expression crumbled into pure panic.
"Wait—Yoru—I wasn't doubting you or anything! I was just worried! You know I trust you completely, right? I would never—"
You should doubt me, Riku thought darkly. You'd be right to.
"I'm sorry, Shiro." Yoru's voice had gone hollow. "I need some space."
She slowly extracted herself from Riku's supportive hold.
The journey home had restored partial function to her legs. She could walk now—if unsteadily. Her steps wavered as she shuffled forward, each movement careful and deliberate.
"Riku-kun. You should head home too."
She didn't look back.
Shiro lurched forward, reaching for her arm—
Yoru slapped his hand away.
The sound echoed sharply in the evening air.
Shiro froze. His hand hung suspended where she'd struck it, fingers still half-extended toward someone who'd just rejected his touch.
"Sorry, Shiro..." Her voice drifted back as she wobbled toward the entrance. "I need some time alone. These past few days, just... give me space."
The apartment door swung shut behind her.
Shiro remained rooted to the spot, his expression that of a man who'd just watched his entire world shift off its axis without understanding why.
What did I do wrong? Everything was fine before the library...
"Yoru...!"
His call echoed uselessly against concrete and glass.
---
Riku watched Yoru's retreating figure with sharp interest.
Her favorability had... risen?
[Hirose Yoru — Favorability: -80]
Still deep in negative territory, but -80 was a significant improvement over -95. He'd take whatever victories he could get.
His gaze drifted to Shiro, still standing motionless below the building like a lost puppy.
This guy... what a tragic hero.
The narrator's voice materialized once more:
「You have identified Sato Shiro as a perfect foil—a weak, ineffectual presence whose failures only highlight your own dominance. You decide to offer him superficial comfort, just enough to rebuild his fragile confidence. Your true purpose, of course, is to extract more intelligence about Hirose Yoru. Information that will prove useful for your next encounter...」
Riku approached Shiro and clapped a hand on his shoulder.
"Hey. Brother."
Shiro flinched at the contact.
"Listen—you're way too slow on the uptake, you know that? With women, you gotta stay attentive. Show them you're paying attention. You can't just... stand around being stiff and clueless."
Shiro's shoulders sagged. Whatever fight remained in him had been thoroughly drained.
"Yeah... yeah, you're probably right." He ran a hand through his hair, disheveled and defeated. "Thanks for helping her, at least. I'll... give her time to cool off, then try again."
He paused, something occurring to him.
"Oh—her birthday party is the day after tomorrow." His brow furrowed with sudden anxiety. "What should I even get her? I heard she likes vintage phonographs, but those are way too expensive... I could never afford one..."
Riku's interest sharpened into a predatory point.
Birthday party. Day after tomorrow.
「You have learned that Hirose Yoru's birthday celebration is fast approaching. You begin formulating a plan to attend—to stage something... memorable. An event designed to shatter whatever remains of her faith in her current boyfriend. An opportunity to demolish her psychological defenses once and for all...」
A smile tugged at the corner of Riku's lips.
"Day after tomorrow, huh?"
His eyes gleamed with dark anticipation.
"Interesting."