The ferry docked at the pier, and Ryunosuke stepped off, his large suitcase rattling against the pavement.
The moment his feet touched solid ground, his phone buzzed. It was Hiyori. In this world, "points can buy anything," and she had willingly spent 10,000 personal points just to place a call to the outside world.
Those were points Hiyori had painstakingly saved herself. Even though 10,000 was no small sum for her—and might mean eating modest meals for the rest of the month—she didn't care. Her worry for her man in the world beyond the school walls outweighed any personal comfort.
"Ryunosuke-kun, where are you now?" Hiyori's soft voice drifted through the receiver.
Ryunosuke walked along the sidewalk, phone pressed to his ear while his other hand hauled the heavy case. He answered with a smile, "Just got off the boat. I'm heading straight to Fushikawa Publishing to collect my royalties."
Hiyori chuckled warmly. "Go ahead. I've already contacted them; they will welcome you as an honored guest."
Ryunosuke stopped in his tracks, sighing in resignation. "Is all that really necessary? I just want to pick up my paycheck."
Hiyori's tone turned slightly playful yet firm. "It is necessary! You are my boyfriend, and Fushikawa is my family's property... Besides, sooner or later, it will all be yours anyway..."
Hiyori let out a shy, stifled squeak as she said it. While she wasn't wrong, Ryunosuke felt a bit complicated. It felt like being a "kept man," and while he didn't exactly hate the sentiment, he knew he had to maintain some boundaries to ensure her parents wouldn't look down on him in the future.
He asked if her father knew yet. Hiyori explained that her father was still in the dark about their specific relationship. Ryunosuke understood; they were students, after all, and parents rarely gave an immediate green light to such things.
After promising that if she missed him, she could borrow points from Ai to call, Ryunosuke hung up. Despite his usual stinginess with points, he was always willing to burn them for his partners. To him, his women were worth far more than any currency or throne.
◆━⊰✿✧✿⊱━◆
Fushikawa Publishing Offices.
A pair of long, elegant legs clad in tantalizing black stockings (kuro-stoking) crossed and uncrossed impatiently. The perfect curve of her legs was enough to draw praise from any passerby...
The owner of those beautiful legs, Kasumigaoka Utaha, was reaching the limit of her patience. Sitting across from her was her editor, Machida Sonoko.
Utaha knit her brows and rested her chin lazily on her hand.
"Old lady, aren't you bored? It's Saturday, a precious day of rest. I should be at home getting my beauty sleep."
"Instead, you dragged me out just to talk about trivialities. What a waste of my time."
"Old lady..." Sonoko felt a vein throb in her forehead. Her hand, clutching a coffee cup, trembled with suppressed rage. However, the writer in front of her—Kasumi Utako—was one of her top earners. Her year-end bonus and salary depended on this girl, so she had to swallow her pride!
(Endure... I must endure!) Sonoko chanted internally. If she exploded, Utaha's temperament was such that she'd likely go on a writing strike, and Sonoko's bonus would vanish into thin air.
Sonoko tried to force a friendly face, but Utaha's next remark nearly sent her over the edge.
Utaha stretched lazily, accentuating her incredible curves. She leaned over the table, tilting her head with a devious smirk. "You've hit your mid-thirties, haven't you, old lady? When are you going to find a boyfriend? Careful—if you get much older, no one will want you."
*SLAM!*
Sonoko pounded the table with both fists. She couldn't take it anymore!!!
"You think I don't want to find a boyfriend?!"
"The problem is I'm 36! Who in this world wants an old woman like me?! Uwaaaa~" Sonoko promptly collapsed onto the table, sobbing.
"Eh..." Utaha felt a twinge of guilt; perhaps she'd been a bit too ruthless in teasing her editor this time.
At that exact moment, a young man entered the room hauling a large black suitcase. Strangely, the staff nearby treated him with extreme politeness and reverence. Even the top director of the publishing house hurried out to greet him personally.
Utaha frowned. "Who is that guy? Talk about acting like a big shot."
Sonoko looked up, wiping her eyes. "Oh, him! I heard he's the boyfriend of our big boss's daughter. His name is Akasaka Ryunosuke, if I recall correctly."
Suddenly, Sonoko's eyes widened. She stared at Utaha with newfound excitement.
"I remember! He's Money is Evil-sensei! The writer who helped breathe life back into your novel when it was almost dead!"
"Didn't you always want to meet him? This is the perfect chance to thank him in person."
Utaha, who had been disinterested a second ago, underwent an instant transformation. She stood up immediately, intending to walk straight toward Ryunosuke. Sonoko frantically grabbed her arm.
"What are you doing, Utaha-chan?!"
Utaha replied with a piercing, cold tone, "Let go."
Sonoko was near tears. "What are you planning to do, Milady?! If you want to thank him, I'll arrange a meeting later. Don't go over there now in front of the Director!"
But Utaha didn't care. She had wanted to meet this man for a long time. She wanted to say thank you... and perhaps start a sweet romance of her own.
Seeing her pleas fail, Sonoko finally revealed the gravity of the situation.
"Do you have any idea who he is? If any scandalous rumors start between you and him, and the higher-ups think my author is trying to seduce their daughter's boyfriend, I'll lose my job!"
"Even if you don't mean it that way, high-society people would rather 'eliminate a mistake' than leave a threat! Especially since you're beautiful—we'd both be doomed!"
Utaha realized she had acted impulsively. She looked at Sonoko and said, "Fine. Arrange a meeting then. I want to thank him properly..."
Sonoko finally exhaled in relief. "I'll set it up, but don't try anything funny. He is the boyfriend of our boss's daughter!"
Utaha ruffled her hair in frustration, muttering impatiently, "Fine, fine. I get it."
Utaha's little plan to repay her debt with love—or perhaps even by offering herself entirely—seemed to have hit a major roadblock. Her way of saying "thank you" was certainly... unique.
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