Yoko Okino's question vibrated in the air, carrying fear and a hint of unconscious seduction. Kanjuro's approach was like a trap slowly closing; his aura enveloped her, and his deep eyes held unconcealed darkness and a desire for control.
Finally, in the suffocating silence, Yoko Okino looked at his face—so close, a weave of charm and danger. The inner exploration of the unknown, and perhaps the throbbing of being inexplicably attracted by his powerful presence, overwhelmed her remaining reason and fear. Very slightly, she nodded. Her voice was as faint as a mosquito's buzz, carrying a trembling sense of resignation:
"I... I also want to know... exactly what you have... that could make someone like Officer Sato... even to you..."
She didn't finish her sentence, but the meaning was already clear.
Kanjuro smiled—a cold, pleased smile of someone who had gotten what they wanted.
"Then," his voice was as low as a magic incantation, "you will know the answer right now."
Early the next morning, the faint dawn light filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting mottled shadows on the messy bed.
Yoko Okino slowly woke up, her body aching as if it had fallen apart, but what made her even more uneasy was the clear memory of last night's madness in her mind.
She found herself curled up in a warm and solid embrace. Looking up, she met Kanjuro's eyes; he was already awake, quietly gazing at her. The aggressiveness of last night was gone, replaced by a bottomless calm, as if everything was under his control.
Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she instinctively tried to pull away, only to be held tighter by Kanjuro's arm.
"Now," Kanjuro spoke, his voice carrying the raspiness of morning but sounding incredibly clear, "do you know the answer?"
Yoko Okino buried her burning face in the crook of his neck. After a moment of silence, she gave a muffled "mm" in a complex and indescribable tone.
"I know..." She knew that charm that was impossible to resist, she knew that control that made one sink, and she knew why Miwako Sato would "yield." It wasn't just a physical conquest; it was a branding and plundering at the soul level.
Kanjuro didn't seem surprised by her vague response, nor did he press further. He stroked her hair with an intimacy like a master treating a possession, and then, in an extremely natural tone, he threw out a question that made Yoko Okino's whole body stiffen:
"So, Yoko, are you willing to officially become my slave?"
Yoko Okino snapped her head up and looked at him in disbelief, thinking she had misheard. "Sla... Slave?" The word made her feel humiliated and absurd. "Why... why can't it be... a girlfriend? Or... a wife?" she asked with a faint trace of hope and resistance. She was the national idol Yoko Okino, how could she... Hearing this, Kanjuro seemed to find it amusing and laughed softly. He pinched her chin, forcing her to look directly into his rippleless eyes, his tone flat yet carrying an unquestionable cruelty:
"Girlfriend? Wife?" He repeated, shaking his head. "No, with me, there are no such hypocritical titles."
His gaze was sharp, as if he could see through all her fantasies.
"To me, all women are essentially the same. They are all my possessions, my collectibles. The word'slave' is the most direct and the most honest."
He paused, the corners of his mouth curling into a near-cruel arc:
"This is true equality, isn't it? I treat everyone with honesty and give no one false hope."
Yoko Okino was completely stunned, looking at his calm, expressionless face and hearing him speak such shocking, objectifying remarks about women in such a matter-of-fact tone. A chill rose from the bottom of her heart, spreading to her very limbs.
She opened her mouth to argue, to rebuke him, but found her throat seemingly blocked. Because he was indeed terrifyingly "honest," making no attempt to hide his twisted values and absolute possessiveness.
After a long while, she finally found her voice, murmuring with a hint of bitterness and self-deprecation:
"Should I... should I be happy about your 'honesty'... or should I be unhappy... that you simply... don't see women as human beings?"
Her question seemed directed at Kanjuro, but even more so at herself. By plunging into this dark vortex, she seemed to have gained the answers she craved and the ultimate experience, but she also clearly saw the future of being completely objectified that awaited her.
Kanjuro was non-committal regarding her confusion and bitterness, simply pulling her back into his arms with an irresistible force.
"Whether you're happy or unhappy doesn't matter." His voice sounded above her head, calm and rippleless. "What matters is that you already are."
In the morning light, Yoko Okino leaned into the arms of this man she couldn't see through or escape from, her heart filled with mixed emotions. She had her answer, but the price far exceeded her imagination. The path ahead seemed to hold only a step-by-step sinking into this dark quagmire controlled by Kanjuro. As the dawn light grew, the city's bustle began to wake. Yoko Okino drove her low-profile luxury car, steadily heading toward Sobu High School. Kanjuro leaned lazily in the passenger seat, looking out the window at the rapidly receding streetscape, his expression as indifferent as ever, as if last night's soul-stirring possession and this morning's shocking declaration were just ordinary trifles.
A strange atmosphere permeated the car, where intimacy and alienation coexisted, and sinking and sobriety intertwined.
In the end, it was Yoko Okino who broke the silence. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as she looked ahead, her voice carrying a trace of imperceptible trembling and deep incomprehension:
"Kanjuro... I... I still don't understand." She paused, seemingly weighing her words. "You clearly... could be like a normal person, falling in love and having a beautiful relationship. Why... must you choose this? To become so... insane?" She used a very strong word, yet felt it was perfectly appropriate.
Hearing this, Kanjuro slowly turned his head, his gaze falling on her tense profile, a very faint, almost playful smile flashing in his eyes. He didn't answer directly, but instead asked back as if he had discovered something interesting:
"I'm such a beast, such scum, treating women as collectibles and slaves..." His tone was as flat as if discussing the weather. "Why is it that you, Yoko, seem... not as angry as one would imagine, and even seem a bit willing to empathize with me?"
He precisely punctured the most unspeakable part of Yoko Okino's complex state of mind.
Yoko Okino's fingers tightened slightly on the steering wheel, and a hint of embarrassed flush rose to her cheeks. She was silent for a few seconds, then as if giving up on something, she let out a soft sigh, her tone carrying a sort of honesty that came from having nothing left to lose:
"Because... I suppose I'm a very realistic person too." She smiled self-deprecatingly. "Kanjuro, don't you know? Women... are essentially attracted to the strong."
She glanced at him, her eyes complex.
"You are so good-looking, so good-looking it's almost unreal. You possess great power, whether it's physical or that... charm that sees through hearts and controls everything. You even... at certain times, act 'gentle' to a faultless degree, even if it's feigned."
She paused, her voice lowering slightly, carrying a sort of resigned frankness:
"Even if I am Yoko Okino, an idol in the eyes of many, who on the surface must maintain friendliness and equality toward everyone... my heart, like most women, still craves... no, is attracted to an 'excellent' man who is powerful, mysterious, and even... dangerous, like you."
"Even knowing it's poison, one can't help but want to taste it. Perhaps it's because a mediocre sense of security is far less stimulating and... enchanting than extreme danger?"
This outspoken analysis laid her heart bare before Kanjuro. There was no affectation, no moral kidnapping, only an almost cold honesty based on instinct.
Kanjuro listened quietly, the playful smile on his face gradually widening until it turned into a low, pleasant laugh that echoed in the enclosed car, filled with the pleasure of having found a kindred spirit.
"Haha... interesting, truly interesting!" He looked at Yoko Okino with a laugh, his eyes flashing with unconcealed admiration. "Yoko, I'm really... liking your personality more and more."
His liking was not a common sort of affection, but rather a satisfaction with the qualities of a "perfect collectible."
"Sober, honest, and... realistic enough to know how to weigh pros and cons, even facing your own not-so-'honorable' desires." Kanjuro nodded, his tone carrying a sense of appraisal. "Compared to those women who indulge in false morality and romantic fantasies, someone like you makes me feel... more at ease, and much more interesting."
His words once again positioned the relationship between them in the cold dimension of 'collector' and 'collection,' but as Yoko Okino listened, she strangely didn't feel much resentment. Instead, there was a peculiar feeling of... being seen through and 'recognized.'
Yes, she was a woman who lived in reality and under the spotlight; she had long been accustomed to weighing and calculating. Kanjuro's 'evil' was blatant, but his'strength' was also substantial. In this dangerous game, she seemed to have found a distorted yet 'fair' equilibrium point, different from ordinary male-female relationships.
The car slowly stopped near Sobu High School. Kanjuro unbuckled his seatbelt, preparing to get out.
"Then," he turned sideways, his fingers lightly brushing across Yoko Okino's cheek with an intimate yet possessive gesture, "my 'realistic' slave, see you tonight?"
Yoko Okino's body trembled slightly as she met his deep gaze. Finally, she nodded gently, a complex and indecipherable smile appearing on her face.
"Mm, see you tonight... Master."
Kanjuro smiled with satisfaction, pushed the door open, and stepped out, blending into the flow of students. Yoko Okino watched his tall and mysterious back for a long time without starting the car. She knew she had stepped onto a path of no return, at the end of which was an abyss, but within that abyss lay a dark charm she couldn't resist. And she chose to sink into it while remaining sober. The car was parked on the roadside not far from Sobu High School, the low hum of the engine echoing the subtle atmosphere inside. Yoko Okino watched Kanjuro unbuckle his seatbelt; his well-defined hand was casual and elegant, as if everything from last night and this morning was merely an ordinary interlude. However, she couldn't hold back the question that had been circling in her mind for a long time, asking it once more before he pushed the door open to leave.
"Kanjuro," her voice carried a hint of persistence, yet mixed with an indescribable complexity of emotion, "you... you still haven't told me why you became like this? What exactly... made you into what you are now?"
She wanted to know what kind of unknown past was hidden beneath that perfect skin and powerful strength, creating this 'devil' who viewed women as collectibles and acted so erratically yet charmingly.
Kanjuro's hand, which was about to push the car door, paused slightly. He turned his head to look at Yoko Okino. A trace of hard-to-capture emotion flashed through those deep eyes, only to be immediately covered by his usual playfulness and detachment. He let out a laugh, a light sound that acted like an invisible barrier.
"Yoko," his tone remained gentle, even carrying a bit of praise, but the content was cold and decisive, "you are indeed very honest. This sobriety in facing your own desires is rare even among the women I've seen. I can feel your heart—whether it's submission, curiosity, or that slight, unwilling flutter. It's very real."
His tone shifted, and his gaze became profound, like a bottomless cold pool.
"However, honesty is not equivalent to being able to touch the core."
His fingertips lightly tapped his own heart; the movement was casual but set a clear boundary.
"You, and the others, might become my interesting collections, allowing me to enjoy the pleasure of control... but here," he paused, his tone flat yet beyond doubt, "you cannot enter."
He looked directly into Yoko Okino's eyes, which instantly filled with a bit of disappointment, and gave his final answer:
"So, as for why I became like this... I won't tell you the answer to that question."
"At least, not for now."
This blunt refusal was like a bucket of cold water poured over the flame ignited in Yoko Okino's heart by curiosity and a certain distorted attachment. She was stunned for a moment, and then a feeling of being both angry and amused welled up.
She was angry at his defensiveness and detachment, and amused that even though she knew exactly what kind of person he was, she still couldn't help but want to investigate, only to end up being rebuffed.
She frustratedly thumped the steering wheel, making a soft thud, her tone carrying reproach and helplessness: "You... you're really... too hateful! Always like this, dangling someone's curiosity and then ruthlessly snuffing it out!"
Seeing her rare display of a young girl's demeanor, the curve of Kanjuro's lips deepened slightly, as if he found it very amusing. He wasn't swayed by her complaints, merely watching her with leisurely interest.
Yoko Okino vented a bit and knew she could do nothing about him. She took a deep breath and looked at him again, the anger in her eyes lessening, replaced by a bit more seriousness and... a hint of stubbornness she hadn't even noticed herself.
"Fine," she sighed in compromise, but her gaze remained locked on him, "since you don't want to say it now, I won't force you. But..."
She paused, her tone carrying a solemn expectation, as if making a long-term pact:
"I hope that one day, you'll be willing to tell me the truth. Tell me exactly what shaped the current Kanjuro."
Kanjuro gave a noncommittal smile at her words that sounded almost like a 'promise.' He neither agreed nor refused, simply pushing open the car door and stepping out with his long legs.
Standing outside the car, he leaned down slightly and took one last look at Yoko Okino through the lowered window, his gaze deep and inscrutable.
"Perhaps." He left an ambiguous answer, then straightened up, waved casually, and turned to blend into the crowd of students, his figure tall and solitary.
Yoko Okino watched him disappear into the crowd, her gaze lingering for a long time. The car seemed to still hold the crisp yet dangerous scent from his body. She leaned back against the seat, her heart a mix of emotions.
The truth was shut out, but the desire to explore was ignited even more fiercely. Kanjuro was like a locked book full of forbidden content; knowing it was dangerous, she was already deeply attracted, longing for the day she could personally reveal that final seal and glimpse all the darkness and secrets hidden within.
"One day..." she whispered, as if making a vow to herself. Then, she started the car and drove away from the block, heading toward the bizarre world that belonged to Yoko Okino, while in the depths of her heart, she had quietly left a dedicated corner, waiting for an answer, for that dark youth.
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