"She refused?" Yosuke asked, his voice smooth, like expensive velvet, yet carrying an edge of cold curiosity.
At this mont, he was lounging in the center of a lavish, neon-lit KTV private suite.
The air was shrouded with the thick scent of premium tobacco, spilled champagne, and the heavy, cloying perfu of the university girls who flocked to him.
Several of his boys—his "inner circle" of enforcers and trust-fund lackeys—were already mid-song, their arms draped around laughing classmates, while others were busy pouring rounds of top-shelf whiskey.
The three girls, Hiyori’s roommates, all nodded their heads in a frantic, synchronized display of submission.
They looked rather out of place in their skimpy party dresses, their faces flushed with the sudden attention of the school’s most dangerous idol.
"She’s an ungrateful bitch, Senpai! We told her you personally wanted her there, and she just acted like she was too good for us!" Mika spat, her voice shrill with bitterness.
"That’s right! Just forget about her, Yosuke-senpai! She’s just a boring loner who thinks her books are more important than your favor!" Saki added, leaning closer to him as if trying to bask in his aura.
"The three of us are enough to keep the party going! We don’t need a fossil like Kirara-san ruining the vibe!" Nana chirped, offering him a fresh glass of sparkling wine.
Yosuke, sitting on the plush leather couch with one leg crossed over the other, shook his head slowly as a faint, enigmatic smile played on his lips. "Well, how disappointing. I had hoped she would appreciate the gesture. But it’s alright. You three are here now. Go on, enjoy yourselves. My boys will take care of you."
He gestured vaguely with his hand, and the three girls were imdiately intercepted by his subordinates, pulled into the rhythm of the music and the clinking of glasses.
Yosuke leaned back into the shadows of the booth, closing his eyes as the chaotic bass of a pop song thrumd through the floorboards.
She refused, huh? He let out a soft, huffed breath that might have been a laugh. Heh, this woman will be interesting to break.
He didn’t truly mind that she had refused; after all, many of his most precious "loves" had started with a refusal.
So were even more stubborn than others, clinging to their pride like it was a shield.
But, it was alright. He enjoyed the hunt. He enjoyed the slow, thodical process of stripping away their defenses until there was nothing left but a hollowed-out vessel for his whims.
Just like Naomi. She used to be at the top of her class, a girl who thought of nothing but her GPA and her future, thinking she was untouchable.
And yet, didn’t she still end up as his rchandise? Didn’t she end up begging for his approval even as he sold her piece by piece?
Unfortunately, Naomi had already served her purpose.
She had completely broken, the light in her eyes extinguished until she was just a shivering, silent doll.
Boring.
So, he had simply given her away to a rich old businessman from District 6 who had offered the highest bid for a "freshly broken" toy.
She was probably already being used like an object in so private club or imprisoned in a soundproof dungeon.
But, well, Yosuke couldn’t care less about them once they lost their shine.
For now, his entire focus was on Hiyori.
There was a spark in her, maybe a martial artist’s discipline that he hadn’t encountered before.
Breaking that kind of spirit... that would be the ultimate high.
*
*
*
At this mont, the morning sun was high over Nishimiya Private Hospital.
Hiyori stepped out of the taxi, her movents sharp and hurried as she paid the driver with a crumpled bill, not even waiting for the change, and entered the lobby.
Her heart was a frantic drum in her chest, each beat echoing the na Seijirou.
After a brief, clipped exchange with the clerk at the entrance, she bypassed the elevators, opting for the stairs to vent her nervous energy.
She arrived at the VVIP wing, her breath slightly elevated, and found the door to Room 402.
She knocked once—a short, firm sound to inform whoever is inside that soone was coming, and pushed the door open.
There, she saw Seijirou.
He was sitting up in bed, his back against the pillows, staring out the window at the city skyline.
The hospital gown looked stark against his skin, but his posture was still that of a king.
Slowly, he turned around, hearing the intrusion and his eyes widened in genuine surprise, his silver-gold aura flickering for a microsecond. "Oh, Hiyori? How... how did you find out I was here?"
"I have people following you, of course," Hiyori said in a matter-of-fact tone, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her.
She spoke as if she were simply comnting on the weather or the price of groceries.
Seijirou felt his cheek twitch. "Co again?"
Hiyori seed to have realized her slip-up almost imdiately and her cheeks flushed a faint pink as she adjusted her posture, looking away for a second. "I an... Lady Retsu told . She sent a ssage. Anyway, why didn’t you tell you were injured? Do you have any idea how it feels to find out through a text that you’re in the ICU?"
’I just learned sothing scary today,’ Seijirou thought, a cold sweat forming on his brow.
Between Retsu’s obsession and Hiyori’s unintentional "stalker" admission, his life was becoming increasingly complicated.
But he shook his head, offering her a tired, apologetic smile. "I just woke up earlier, actually and it all happened so fast I couldn’t even process it myself. Retsu said that I should probably stay here for three more days, preferably a week, just to make sure my Ki channels have stabilized. And honestly, even I still find it hard to believe I’m actually sitting here talking."
Hiyori walked toward the bed, her gaze softening as she looked at the bandages peeking out from the collar of his gown, and then into his eyes.
"I get you. Even I..."
She paused, her eyes revealing a deep, complicated look.
She couldn’t help but think of her first love—the one she had lost, the one whose mory she still carried like a phantom limb.
Even now, she found it hard to believe he was truly gone.
"Hiyori?" Seijirou called out.
Hiyori snapped out of her thoughts and stared at Seijirou and she couldn’t help but thought of how she had initially "used" Seijirou, seeking him out as a way to drown out the grief, to force herself to forget the past through the intensity of the present.
Although she had developed real, burning feelings for him—feelings that made her heart ache in a way she couldn’t explain—it didn’t change the fact that their beginning was rooted in her own desperation to forget.
Of course, she was still unaware that Retsu had been the one pulling the strings, manipulating her into thinking that and making subconsciously very reliant on Seijirou.
"Are you... are you really alright now?" Hiyori asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Seijirou reached out, his fingers catching hers. "I’m fine, Hiyori. I promise. You know I’m too stubborn to die."
Hiyori didn’t pull away. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under her weight.
The clinical sll of the hospital seed to vanish, replaced by the warm, masculine scent of Seijirou as the silence in the room changed, turning from heavy to intimate.
"Next ti, if you want to do sothing dangerous, then tell ," she murmured, her thumb tracing the back of his hand. "I may not be as strong as Lady Retsu, but I am also a student of Shirohara Ichibei. I can help you, you know."
"I know you can," Seijirou replied, his voice softening as he pulled her hand closer, bringing it to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "Don’t worry, I was just careless. This won’t happen again, I promise."
Hiyori looked up, her green eyes shimring as the guilt of "using" him, the fear of losing him, and the raw affection she felt all converged into a single point.
She leaned forward, her long hair falling like a curtain around them, shielding them from the rest of the world.
"... I’m really worried you know. So worried I felt as if my heart stopped when I found out you were hospitalised," she whispered.
"Hm. I’m sorry."
"No, don’t apologise. Please, can you... Can you reassure ? To make sure... To make sure everything is alright?"
"... Alright."
Seijirou reached up, his hand cupping the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her down, and for a mont, they just stayed there, foreheads pressed together, breathing in each other’s air.
It was as if the world outside, the fragnts, or whatever it is, doesn’t matter...only the two of them.
Hiyori closed her eyes, letting out a small, contented sigh as she leaned in, her lips finally eting his in a soft, lingering kiss.
It wasn’t the frantic, desperate passion of their previous nights, but sothing deeper—a silent promise of loyalty and a claim on his soul.
As she kissed him, the monitors in the room chirped a bit faster, reflecting the sudden spike in Seijirou’s heart rate.
Hiyori pulled back just a fraction, her face flushed and her breath hitched, looking at him with a gaze that was both fierce and incredibly tender.
"Thank you, Seijirou," she whispered against his lips. "I’m glad you’re alright."
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