[Hirose Residence — Master Bedroom ]
The afternoon light filtered weakly through drawn curtains, casting the room in shades of amber and dust. The air hung thick with the mingled scent of jasmine perfume and something sharper—musk, salt, the unmistakable tang of arousal that clung to rumpled sheets.
Mrs. Hirose Kaguya's hands pushed against Riku's chest, her slender fingers splaying uselessly against the firm muscle beneath his shirt. She tried to slow him, to regain some fragment of control over the rhythm that had long since spiraled beyond her.
Riku caught both her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head, pressing her deeper into the mattress. The bedframe creaked in protest.
"Madam," he murmured against the shell of her ear, breath hot and unhurried, "if you beg me... I'll go slower."
This is insane—he's young, not to mention Yoru's classmate, and I'm—
Mrs. Hirose bit down on her lower lip hard enough to taste copper. Chestnut strands of hair clung to her sweat-dampened forehead as she fought to maintain her composure. But Riku's hips snapped forward again, faster now, and the wet slap of skin against skin filled the silence between her choked gasps.
"Nnh—! Riku-kun..." Her voice cracked, pride crumbling like paper in rain. "S-Slower... please..."
He stopped.
Completely.
Mrs. Hirose's hips continued to roll on their own, desperate and involuntary, chasing friction that was no longer there. A whimper escaped her throat before she could swallow it.
Without warning, Riku flipped her onto her stomach. The mattress absorbed her surprised yelp as he pressed her chest flat against the sheets, one hand splayed between her shoulder blades while the other gripped her hip. Her back arched naturally, ass raised, the thin fabric of her hiked-up skirt bunched uselessly around her waist.
"You prefer it from behind, don't you, Madam?"
A hesitant nod, face half-buried in cotton that smelled of fabric softener and sin.
"...Gentler," she whispered, voice reduced to something small and pleading. "And quiet. Please—the sounds—Yoru might hear—"
"I know."
His weight settled over her, chest to her back, and he entered her again—slowly this time, inch by devastating inch. The angle drove him deeper than before, and Mrs. Hirose's eyes flew wide.
"N-No—! Riku, that's—haaah—too deep—!"
Her protest dissolved into a strangled moan as he bottomed out, the thick length of his cock pressing against something that made her vision blur white at the edges. Her inner walls clenched involuntarily, fluttering around him in rhythmic spasms.
With her hands pinned and her body immobilized, she had no choice but to bite down on the sheets, muffling the sounds that threatened to spill free. The fabric grew damp with saliva and tears she hadn't realized she was shedding.
The headboard tapped against the wall—once, twice—a metronome marking each thrust. The room filled with the obscene symphony of bodies meeting: the slick sound of her arousal, the creak of springs, the muted sobs she couldn't quite suppress.
"Ahh—!"
A sharp cry escaped before she could catch it. Her entire body seized, thighs clamping together as the orgasm crashed through her without mercy. Every muscle locked tight, her pussy squeezing Riku's cock like a vice.
He groaned low in his throat and pulled out slowly, a thick rope of cum following in his wake. It dripped onto the inside of her trembling thighs, pooling on the sheets beneath her.
Mrs. Hirose collapsed, boneless, gasping for air that seemed too thin.
"Riku-kun..." Her voice came out hoarse, wrecked. "That was... too much..."
---
[Hirose Residence — Yoru's Bedroom | Concurrent]
Hirose Yoru lay on her bed, phone clutched to her chest, staring at the ceiling as if it held the answer to explaining Satou Shirou's situation.
How do I even start that conversation?"Hey, sorry I've been weird lately, but there's this guy who—"
A muffled sound cut through her thoughts.
Her mother's voice. Sharp. Almost like—
Yoru bolted upright, heart hammering. She strained to listen, but silence had already reclaimed the apartment. Nothing but the distant hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the hallway clock.
I'm losing it.
She rubbed her temples with both hands, pressing hard enough to see stars behind her eyelids. The past few weeks had left her nerves raw, jumping at shadows. Every unexpected noise made her think of the library. Of him.
"This is all that scumbag's fault!"
She punched the air twice, imagining Riku's smug face on the receiving end. It didn't help.
If he hadn't done what he did, I wouldn't be this paranoid. I wouldn't flinch every time someone gets too close. I wouldn't—
She flopped back onto her pillow and screamed silently into the fabric.
---
[Hirose Residence — Master Bedroom | Moments Later]
"Madam... you're really something else."
The words hung in the air, casual and devastating. Mrs. Hirose, still flushed and trembling, gathered her discarded clothing with shaking hands. Being praised for that by a boy barely out of high school—the shame burned hotter than the lingering pleasure.
I used to watch romance dramas and judge the women who fell for younger men. Now look at me.
She pulled her blouse closed, fingers fumbling with buttons that suddenly seemed impossibly small.
"Riku." She paused, weighing each word. "Our... arrangement. Can we keep it from Yoru? I don't want her to know that her mother is—that we—"
She couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't name what they were doing.
"The ten million yen has already been transferred to you," Riku replied, adjusting his belt. "You agreed to one hundred days of obedience. However..."
His gaze drifted downward, lingering openly on the gap in her blouse where pale skin and the shadow of cleavage remained visible.
Mrs. Hirose tugged the fabric tighter, heat crawling up her neck.
"...Yoru's birthday is coming up. I'll need you to help me with something, Madam."
"What kind of help?"
"I'll explain tomorrow."
Before she could protest, he crossed the room in two strides and pressed a kiss to her cheek—quick, almost chaste, utterly possessive.
"See you tomorrow, Madam."
Then he was gone, slipping out of the bedroom like he belonged there.
---
[Hirose Residence — Hallway | Seconds Later]
Yoru emerged from her room just in time to see Riku standing in the living area, looking far too comfortable for someone who should have left an hour ago.
"Why are you still here?"
Her voice came out sharper than intended. Good.
"Lunch's over. What else could you possibly want?"
From behind the closed bedroom door, Mrs. Hirose heard the exchange. She remained frozen, hand on the doorknob, unwilling to step into whatever confrontation was brewing.
Riku smiled—that infuriating, knowing smile that made Yoru want to claw it off his face.
"I was just leaving. Unless you'd like to walk me out?"
"In your dreams, scumbag."
He moved toward her.
Yoru's bravado evaporated. She stepped back instinctively, the memory of the library flooding back—his hands, his breath, the helplessness.
"What—what are you doing?"
Step by step, he advanced. Step by step, she retreated. Her heel caught the baseboard, and suddenly her back was against the wall with nowhere left to go.
Riku didn't stop.
He leaned in, close enough that she could probably smell the faint remnants of her mother's perfume clinging to his collar. The realization made her stomach turn.
"Let go of me—!"
Her hands shot up to push him away. He caught both wrists effortlessly, pinning them to the wall above her head with one hand. His body pressed forward, trapping her completely.
This can't be happening again. Not here. Not in my own home.
"Your attitude really is the worst," he murmured, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below her ear. "I'm starting to think I can't keep Satou Shirou's secret after all."
"You promised—!"
"Did I?" He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, expression mock-innocent. "I don't remember promising anything. I only asked you to choose: another session like the library, or the birthday party tomorrow."
That's not—he's twisting everything—
"So? Have you decided?"
His breath ghosted across her lips. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat, her cheeks burning despite her fury.
"Have you?"
The question hung between them.
"I—"
He kissed her.
It wasn't gentle. His tongue slipped past her lips before she could clamp them shut, tasting her, claiming her, stealing the breath from her lungs. She made a muffled sound of protest—mmph!—but her body betrayed her, going soft against the wall instead of rigid.
When he finally pulled back, a thin string of saliva connected their lips for a heartbeat before breaking.
"That's interest," he said calmly. "For taking too long to answer. Now—your choice?"
I hate him. I hate him. I hate him so much.
"...Tomorrow." The word scraped out of her throat like broken glass. "You can come to the party. But don't you dare do anything to Satou Shirou."
Riku released her wrists and stepped back, catching her chin between thumb and forefinger. He tilted her face up, forcing eye contact.
"That depends entirely on your performance."
---
[Hirose Residence — Living Room | After]
Yoru pressed a hand to her mouth, still feeling the phantom pressure of his lips.
Her mother approached slowly, concern creasing her elegant features.
"Yoru... is something wrong between you and Riku-kun?"
"No." The denial came too fast, too sharp. "Nothing, Mom. It's nothing."
I can't tell her. I can't let her get dragged into this.
Mrs. Hirose hesitated, fingers twisting together—a nervous habit Yoru had inherited.
"Yoru... you don't have to go to your part-time job this afternoon."
"What? Why not?" Alarm spiked through her. "Mom, if we don't keep working, paying off the debt will take forever. You can't do it alone."
"The debt is gone."
Yoru blinked.
"...Gone?"
"Paid off. All ten million yen."
That's impossible. There's no way. Unless—
"Mom, please tell me you didn't take out another loan. Please tell me you didn't—"
"I didn't."
Mrs. Hirose took a deep breath. She'd rehearsed this explanation in her head a dozen times, but standing here, facing her daughter's worried eyes, the words felt clumsy and insufficient.
I'll tell her about the money. Just... not about the conditions attached to it. She doesn't need to know what I agreed to.
"Riku-kun gave us the money."
The silence stretched.
"...Riku?" Yoru's voice came out flat, disbelieving. "He just... gave us ten million yen? That guy?"
The same guy who humiliated me in the library? The same guy who just pinned me against the wall? That Riku?
"He didn't ask for anything in return?"
"He said he wanted to help."
Liar.
Yoru didn't say it out loud. But she saw the way her mother's gaze flickered—just for a moment—toward the bedroom door. She noticed the faint red mark on the side of her mother's neck that makeup almost concealed.
Something's not right.
But what could she say? Mom, are you sleeping with my classmate? The thought alone made bile rise in her throat.
She forced a smile.
"That's... great, Mom. Really."
I don't understand him at all.
One moment he was a demon, grinding her dignity into dust. The next, he was handing over a fortune like it meant nothing.
What the hell do you actually want, Riku?
Yoru retreated to her room, the question circling endlessly in her mind, sharp as a blade and twice as persistent.