For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Tags: Romance, Age Gap, Cheating, Secret Relationship, Power Dynamics, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
❤︎ AO3 ❤︎ ❤︎ FFN❤︎
Her True Claim by Reinaytany
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Tags: Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Infidelity, Cheating, Seduction, Adultery, Age Difference, Married Man, Sexual Tension, Modern AU, No Powers AU, Guilt, Pining, Temptation, Power Imbalance, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
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Out of the Red by Reinaytany
Trapped by her father's massive debt, Mayumi is barely surviving her life in a shady hostess club.
Everything changes the night Kento Nanami unexpectedly buys her freedom.
Now sharing his penthouse, their arrangement slowly ignites into a dangerous and undeniable attraction
Tags: Romance, Age Gap, Slow Burn, Roommates to Lovers, Domestic Fluff & Angst, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
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Limitless Blue by Reinaytany
Satoru Gojo has the world at his feet. As the untouchable CEO of Gojo Enterprise, he is bored, brilliant, and richer than God. But when he storms into a closing bakery demanding the last limited-edition strawberry daifuku, he meets the one thing he can’t buy: Riho Minami.
Riho, an exhausted 23-year-old baker, refuses to sell him her dinner, no matter how many black cards he flashes. Intrigued by her defiance, Satoru begins a relentless, chaotic pursuit of the “Stubborn-chan” who treats him like a normal human.
But as his dangerous corporate world bleeds into her quiet life, they must decide if a love that breaks all the rules is worth the cost of admission.
Tags: Romance, Drama, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
❤︎ AO3 ❤︎ ❤︎ FFN❤︎
Bound by Desire by Reinaytany
Nana plays to win until Yuuji stops being a game. His loyalty breaks her control and his strength melts her guarded heart.
She loses her edge and he forces her to face love that can’t be planned, controlled, or escaped.
Tags: Romance, New Adult, Explicit Smut, Mutual Pining
❤︎ AO3 ❤︎ ❤︎ FFN❤︎
Thanks for dropping by!
I use this cover art to go along with my fanfics.
I'm not profiting from it at all, nor do I owe anyone anything.
Satoru Gojo has the world at his feet. But when he storms into a closing bakery demanding the last limited-edition strawberry daifuku, he meets the one thing he can’t buy: Riho Minami.
Riho, an exhausted 23-year-old baker, refuses to sell him her dinner, no matter how many black cards he flashes. Intrigued by her defiance, Satoru begins a chaotic pursuit of the “Stubborn-chan”.
But as his world bleeds into her quiet life, they must decide if a love that breaks all the rules is worth the cost.
Tags: Romance, Drama, Age Difference, Modern AU-No Powers AU.
Chapter 3: The 500 Yen Coin
It was 11:30 AM, and Riho Minami was already questioning her life choices.
The morning rush at Lune et Soleil had been brutal. A busload of tourists had descended upon the shop, demanding forty matcha lattes in broken Japanese. The espresso machine had jammed twice. And now, just as she was finally catching her breath, he walked in.
Satoru.
He was early today. Usually, he was a 5:00 PM fixture, haunting the corner table like a very tall, very expensive ghost. But today, the sun was high, and Satoru was strolling in wearing a pale blue button-down shirt that probably cost more than Riho’s rent, his signature round sunglasses glinting in the light.
"Good morning, sunshine!" he chirped, leaning over the counter. He smelled like freshly laundered linen and something annoyingly pleasant, like sea salt. "You look like you've been to war."
"I have," Riho grumbled, wiping down the steam wand. "What are you doing here? Don't you have 'consulting' to do?"
"I'm on a break," Satoru said breezily. "Consulting is exhausting work. Lots of... thinking. I need fuel."
He pointed a long finger at the menu board. "One black coffee. And a plain croissant."
"That'll be 780 yen," Riho said automatically.
Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, leather money clip. He flipped it open and produced a crisp, pristine 10,000 yen bill. He held it out with a smile.
Riho stared at the bill. Then she stared at him.
"You're joking," she said flatly.
"Hmm?" Satoru tilted his head. "What?"
"It's 780 yen, Satoru. Do you have anything smaller?"
Satoru blinked behind his sunglasses. He looked at the bill, then checked his other pockets. He pulled out another 10,000 yen bill. And another.
"I have... three of these," he offered helpfully.
Riho rubbed her temples. "You don't carry change? A thousand yen note? A five hundred yen coin?"
"Coins are heavy," Satoru said with a shrug. "And they ruin the line of my pants."
"My register is empty," Riho lied (it wasn't empty, but she wasn't about to drain her entire change drawer for his coffee). "I just opened. I can't break a ten thousand yen bill for a croissant."
Satoru looked genuinely perplexed. It was as if she had asked him to solve a quantum physics equation in his head. "So... I can't buy it?"
"Not unless you go get change." Riho pointed out the window. "There's a convenience store across the street. Go buy a gum or something."
Satoru looked at the convenience store like it was a foreign country. "A convenience store?"
"Yes. They have these magical machines called 'registers' that give you coins. Go."
Satoru sighed dramatically, a sound that rumbled in his chest. "You're so strict, Riho-chan. Treating your best customer like this."
"You're my most difficult customer," she corrected. "Go. Or no coffee."
Satoru pouted, actually pouted, before turning on his heel and sauntering out.
Riho watched him go, shaking her head. Trust fund baby, she thought. Probably never touched a coin in his life.
Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.
Riho was starting to wonder if he’d gotten lost crossing the street when the door chimed.
Satoru returned. But he looked… different.
He was holding a plastic convenience store bag in one hand and a glistening, golden 500 yen coin in the other, holding it up like a trophy.
"I did it!" he announced, grinning. "I bought a... what is this?" He peered into the bag. "A 'corn dog'? The lady recommended it."
Riho couldn't help it. A small smile tugged at her lips. "You've never had a corn dog?"
"I try to avoid food on sticks. It feels... primitive." He placed the coin on the counter with a triumphant clink, followed by three 100 yen coins. "780 yen. Exact change. Are you proud of me?"
"Overwhelmed," Riho deadpanned, sweeping the coins into the register. "Here's your coffee."
She handed him the cup and the croissant. Satoru took them, but he didn't move to his usual table. He leaned against the counter, taking a sip of the coffee.
"You know," he said, his voice dropping to that lower, more intimate register that always made Riho’s stomach do a little flip. "That was actually an adventure. The machine made a lot of noise. And the lights were very bright."
"It's a Lawson, Satoru, not a disco," Riho said, though her tone was softer now.
"Still." He slid his sunglasses down his nose, looking at her over the rim with those electric blue eyes. "It’s nice. Doing normal things. It makes me feel..."
"Human?" Riho suggested.
Satoru paused. His smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of genuine thoughtfulness. "Yeah. Human."
He reached out and, before Riho could react, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm, and the contact sent a jolt of electricity through her.
"Thanks for the lesson, Riho," he murmured.
He straightened up, the playful grin returning in an instant. "I'll see you at 5:00 PM for the real shift. Don't miss me too much!"
He grabbed his bag of corn dogs and breezed out the door, leaving Riho standing frozen behind the counter.
She touched her ear where his fingers had brushed her skin. Her heart was beating a little faster than usual.
Just a rich guy playing tourist, she told herself firmly. Don't read into it.
But as she looked at the 500 yen coin sitting in her register, she couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was more to Satoru than expensive shirts and black cards.
Satoru Gojo has the world at his feet. As the untouchable CEO of Gojo Enterprise, he is bored, brilliant, and richer than God. But when he storms into a closing bakery demanding the last limited-edition strawberry daifuku, he meets the one thing he can’t buy: Riho Minami.
Riho, an exhausted 23-year-old baker, refuses to sell him her dinner, no matter how many black cards he flashes. Intrigued by her defiance, Satoru begins a relentless, chaotic pursuit of the "Stubborn-chan" who treats him like a normal human.
But as his dangerous corporate world bleeds into her quiet life, they must decide if a love that breaks all the rules is worth the cost of admission.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Satoru Gojo has the world at his feet. As the untouchable CEO of Gojo Enterprise, he is bored, brilliant, and richer than God. But when he storms into a closing bakery demanding the last limited-edition strawberry daifuku, he meets the one thing he can’t buy: Riho Minami.
Riho, an exhausted 23-year-old baker, refuses to sell him her dinner, no matter how many black cards he flashes. Intrigued by her defiance, Satoru begins a relentless, chaotic pursuit of the "Stubborn-chan" who treats him like a normal human.
But as his dangerous corporate world bleeds into her quiet life, they must decide if a love that breaks all the rules is worth the cost of admission.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Tags: Romance, Age Gap, Cheating, Secret Relationship, Power Dynamics, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
Chapter 7: Morning After
The next morning arrived too soon.
Mayumi had barely slept. She kept waking to the ghost of Nanami’s hands on her body, the rough squeeze of her breasts, the relentless thrust of his fingers, the way his mouth had devoured her nipple like he was starving. Even after she finally changed out of his shirt around 4 AM. The scent of cedar and him still clung to her skin even after a long shower.
At 7:40 AM she stood in front of her door, dressed for class in a cream sweater and black trousers. Her hand hovered over the handle. She told herself she would slip out quietly.
But the moment she opened her door, Kento Nanami stepped out of Room 402 at the exact same time.
He froze mid-step.
Dressed in his immaculate suit, briefcase in hand, he looked every bit the composed senior partner again. Except for the faint shadows beneath his eyes and the way his jaw clenched the instant he saw her.
For a long, suffocating second, neither of them moved.
Then Nanami gave a small, stiff nod. “Good morning.”
Mayumi’s voice came out softer than she intended. “Morning.”
They walked toward the elevator in heavy silence. The doors slid open. Nanami gestured for her to enter first, then stepped in after her, pressing the button for the ground floor. The small space suddenly felt far too intimate.
The elevator began its descent. The air felt thick enough to choke on.
Nanami stared straight ahead at the glowing floor numbers, but his voice broke the silence, low, harsh, and edged with barely contained frustration.
“Last night was a mistake.”
Mayumi turned to look at him. His profile was sharp, jaw tight, knuckles white around the handle of his briefcase.
“I should never have let it happen,” he continued, tone clipped. “You were freezing, vulnerable, and I took advantage of that. You’re nineteen, Mayumi. You have a boyfriend, however useless he is. I’m twenty-seven. I’m supposed to be the adult here. Instead I dragged you into my apartment and…” He exhaled sharply, as if the memory physically pained him. “I crossed every line I have. That cannot happen again.”
The elevator hummed between floors. Mayumi’s heart pounded against her ribs, but she refused to look away.
“I don’t regret it, Kento.” she said softly but clearly. “Not even a little.”
His head snapped toward her, eyes widening slightly behind his glasses.
“You should,” he bit out, harsher than he intended. “You should regret it. Because I can’t afford to lose control like that again. Do you understand what could have happened if I hadn’t stopped? I could have fucked you right there on that counter. And once I started, I’m not sure I would have been able to stop.”
His words hung heavy in the confined space. Mayumi felt heat bloom low in her belly despite the tension.
She took one small step closer to him.
“I wanted you to,” she whispered. “I still want you to. I want your hands on me again. I want your mouth on my breasts the way you sucked them last night, like you couldn’t get enough. I want to feel you lose control completely, Kento. Because when you touched me… I didn’t feel cold. I didn’t feel invisible. I felt wanted. I felt alive.”
Nanami’s breath hitched. His free hand curled into a fist at his side. For a terrifying second, the hunger from last night flooded back into his eyes, raw, intense, almost feral.
He took a sharp step forward, crowding her against the elevator wall without touching her. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, harsh but laced with raw concern.
“Stop. Just… stop.” His gaze flicked down to her lips, then lower, before he forced it back to her face. “You have no idea what you’re asking for. I’m not one of your careless boys who can treat this like a game. If I let myself have you, I won’t be gentle. I won’t be satisfied with just my fingers. And you deserve better than being another regret in my apartment at 2 AM.”
Nanami stepped back immediately, putting distance between them again. His chest rose and fell heavily.
Mayumi didn’t let him retreat.
She closed the gap in one step, reaching out to grab the front of his suit jacket with both hands. She pressed her body flush against his, soft curves molding against the hard line of his chest, her breasts pushing firmly into him through the thin layers of fabric.
“Then don’t be gentle with me,” she whispered, voice low and sensual, eyes pleading as she looked up at him. “Have me at 2 AM… and 3 AM… and every hour after that if you want. I don’t care if it’s wrong. I want you, Kento. All of you.”
Her gaze was pure temptation, wide, needy, and deliberately seductive. She tilted her head slightly, lips parted, body subtly arching into his as if offering herself right there in the elevator.
Nanami couldn’t speak.
His mouth opened, but no words came out. His hands hovered at his sides, fists clenched so tightly the veins stood out on his forearms. He could feel every inch of her pressed against him, the softness of her breasts, the warmth of her stomach, the way her hips aligned perfectly with his. His cock twitched traitorously in his trousers, already half-hard from the memory of last night and the feel of her now.
He was drowning.
Mayumi’s voice dropped even softer, almost a plea. “I want your number.”
She reached into his jacket pocket without waiting for permission and pulled out his phone. Nanami just stood there, frozen, unable to stop her. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as she quickly typed her own number into his contacts and called it. Her phone rang once in her bag before she hung up and slipped his phone back into his pocket, her fingers deliberately brushing against his chest.
The elevator slowed.
It dinged softly as it reached the ground floor.
The doors began to slide open.
A young man in a hoodie stepped inside, eyes on his phone, completely oblivious.
Mayumi didn’t let go.
She kept her body pressed tightly against Nanami’s, one hand still fisted in his jacket, refusing to create any distance. Nanami’s entire body went rigid. He could feel the heat of her through their clothes, the faint scent of her shampoo, the way her breathing had quickened.
The young man glanced up briefly, then looked back down at his phone, aware of the suffocating tension filling the small space.
Nanami let out a long, shaky sigh, half frustration, half surrender.
The doors closed again. The elevator continued its brief stop before heading down the final stretch.
Mayumi finally released his jacket but didn’t step away.
When the young man stepped out on the next floor, the doors closed once more, leaving them alone again.
Nanami exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair, glasses slightly fogged from the heat between them.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, voice rough and low.
Mayumi looked up at him, a small, breathless smile tugging at her lips.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because I don’t want to be invisible anymore. Not to you.”
The elevator finally reached the ground floor with a soft ding. The doors opened to the bright lobby.
Nanami stepped out first, then turned back to her, his expression a storm of conflict, desire, guilt, and something dangerously close to longing.
“Mayumi…” He paused, jaw tight. “Be careful what you wish for. Some lines, once crossed, can’t be uncrossed.”
She stepped out beside him, their shoulders brushing.
“I know,” she said softly, eyes never leaving his. “And I’m still not sorry.”
Nanami held her gaze for one long, charged second before he forced himself to look away.
“I have a meeting,” he said, voice strained. “Go to class.”
He started walking toward the exit, but after a few steps he stopped and glanced back at her one last time.
His voice was quieter, almost reluctant.
“…Text me when you get home tonight. Just so I know you’re safe.”
Then he pushed through the glass doors and disappeared into the morning crowd, leaving Mayumi standing in the lobby with her heart racing and a quiet thrill running through her veins.
She touched her lips, still feeling the ghost of last night’s kiss.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Tags: Romance, Age Gap, Cheating, Secret Relationship, Power Dynamics, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
Chapter 6: The Rain and the Bourbon
Late October 22 rain on Wednesday Tokyo doesn’t drizzle, it drops like a sheet of lead.
Mayumi stood under the inadequate awning of the library, her arms wrapped tightly around her cotton cardigan. The wind whipped the rain sideways, soaking the hem of her pleated skirt and pooling in her leather loafers.
Mayumi [09:12 PM]: The storm is really bad. Campus shuttles stopped. Can you come pick me up?
Mayumi [09:30 PM]: Naoya?
She watched the read receipt appear beneath the second message. Then, the agonizing wait. The typing bubble didn't appear for another twenty-five minutes.
Naoya [09:55 PM]: At a bar in Roppongi with the guys. Surge pricing is probably a joke right now, just wait it out or take the train. Don't be dramatic.
A second later, the screen glitched, went black, and died.
Mayumi stared at the blank reflection of her wet face in the glass. He had the car his father bought him. He was twenty minutes away.
She didn’t cry. The hollow numbness simply expanded in her chest until it swallowed everything else. She slipped the dead phone into her bag, stepped out from under the awning, and began the long walk to the nearest subway station in the pouring rain.
By the time the elevator doors opened on the ground floor of her building, she was a ghost.
The lobby’s heavy air-conditioning hit her soaked clothes like a slap. A violent shiver tore through her body. Her teeth chattered audibly. Her hair clung to her cheeks in wet strands, and the cardigan stuck to her skin like a second, freezing layer.
The automatic glass doors slid open again.
Mayumi turned, shivering so hard her knees nearly buckled.
Kento Nanami stepped in from the storm. He closed a black umbrella with a sharp snap. Raindrops clung to his tailored trench coat, but underneath he remained untouched by the chaos outside, the picture of insulated, adult stability.
He stopped mid-stride.
Behind the gold rims of his glasses, his eyes locked onto her. He took in the puddle forming at her feet, the bluish tint of her lips, and the way her soaked clothes clung to her freezing body.
His jaw tightened. The careful professional distance he usually maintained fractured in an instant, replaced by something raw and protective.
He closed the distance in three strides. His hand wrapped around her upper arm, firm, steady, radiating heat that made her gasp.
“Elevator,” was all he said.
Mayumi couldn’t speak. Her jaw was locked from the cold. She let him steer her into the steel cab. He pressed the button for the fourth floor and positioned himself squarely in front of her, blocking the stream of icy air from the overhead vent.
When the doors opened, Mayumi automatically turned left toward the heavy oak door of her own apartment, toward the empty space paid for by a man she barely knew, waiting for a boyfriend who couldn’t be bothered to keep her from catching pneumonia.
Nanami didn’t let go of her arm.
“No.”
His voice was a low, absolute command. He pulled her gently but firmly to the right. Unlocking the door to Room 402, he pushed it open and guided her inside.
The heat of his apartment washed over her like a blanket. It smelled of sandalwood, aged paper, and safety.
Nanami stripped off his trench coat and tossed it carelessly over a chair, a highly uncharacteristic break in his usual discipline. “Take your shoes off. Bathroom is the second door on the left.”
Mayumi stood frozen on the mat, teeth still clicking. “I’m… I’m dripping on your floor.”
“I do not care about the floor,” Nanami said sharply, already moving down the hall.
He returned ten seconds later holding one of his own crisp button-down shirts and a pair of thick cashmere socks.
“Strip the wet clothes off. Dry yourself. Put these on.” He pressed the bundle into her hands. “Do it now, Mayumi, before your core temperature drops any further.”
She nodded numbly and stumbled into the marble bathroom, locking the door behind her.
Nanami stood in the living room, listening to the faint sound of the bathroom door locking.
She should have gone to her own apartment, he thought, exhaling slowly. It would have been the simpler choice, the more appropriate one. Her place was literally ten meters away. He could have walked her to the door, made sure she got inside safely, and returned to his own quiet evening.
But the moment he saw her standing there, soaked to the bone, lips turning blue, shivering so violently she could barely stand, something instinctive had overridden logic. Her own apartment was empty and cold. No heat turned up. No dry clothes waiting. No one to make sure she didn’t spiral into hypothermia while waiting for a boyfriend who couldn’t even be bothered to pick her up in the rain.
He refused to leave her alone in that unlived-in space tonight.
Nanami ran a hand through his damp hair, then moved to the kitchen. He filled the kettle and set it on the stove, the familiar motion grounding him. He wasn’t in the habit of bringing young women into his apartment, especially not ones entangled with someone like Naoya Zenin. It was messy. It was inappropriate. It crossed lines he had carefully maintained for years.
Yet here he was, heart still beating harder than it should, the memory of her freezing arm under his palm lingering like a brand.
He told himself it was purely practical. Core body temperature. Risk of illness. Basic human decency.
But a quieter voice in the back of his mind whispered the truth: he hadn’t wanted to let her go.
Not tonight. Not when she looked that lost.
Mayumi peeling the freezing clothes from her skin felt like shedding ice. But as she stood shivering under the warm heat lamps, a sharp, calculating boldness pierced through the numbness.
She was tired of being cold.
Tired of being invisible.
Tired of waiting for someone to choose her.
Why was she feeling so reckless? For years she had been nothing more than a well-packaged asset, a statue for a frat boy’s ego or a line item in her mother’s budget. Naoya looked at her body with entitled, wandering eyes. But Nanami… Nanami looked through her. He saw the shivering girl beneath the mask.
At that moment, she didn’t just want his protection. She wanted his focus. She wanted to be the single variable capable of making this monolithic man crack. She wanted the weight of his gaze to burn with hunger instead of pity. If a man of Kento Nanami’s terrifying discipline could be undone by her, then she wasn’t just a discarded ornament. She was real.
She stripped completely bare, deliberately letting her soaked underwear drop to the marble floor. She wasn’t going to put damp clothes back on, not when she had the perfect excuse. When she slipped Nanami’s crisp button-down over her shoulders, the fabric warm and faintly scented with cedar and sandalwood, engulfed her like an embrace.
She fastened only three middle buttons, leaving the top and bottom dangerously open. The fine white cotton clung to her still-damp skin, turning almost translucent over her full breasts, her hardened nipples clearly visible. The hem barely reached mid-thigh, the side slits riding high enough to expose the curve of her hips with every movement.
She wanted him to look. She needed him to look.
She desperately wanted to push him until his boundary snapped, needing to prove she was a woman worth losing control over.
When she unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out, the apartment lights had been dimmed. Nanami stood at the kitchen island, suit jacket and tie discarded, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. The moment she entered the soft light, he froze.
His eyes darkened instantly. The white cotton offered no defense, it clung wetly to her body, turning nearly see-through and putting her large breasts and stiff nipples on full display. The hem rode dangerously high on her thighs, the slits parting to reveal smooth skin with every step.
A muscle feathered sharply in his jaw as he fought to drag his gaze upward. He pushed a crystal tumbler across the marble counter. Two fingers of amber liquid shimmered inside.
“Drink,” he ordered, his voice noticeably rougher, gravelly.
Mayumi picked it up with both hands. “What is it?”
“Bourbon. It will burn, but it will warm your blood.”
She took a sip. The smooth heat slid down her throat and bloomed in her chest. A soft cough escaped her as color finally returned to her pale cheeks.
Nanami watched the flush creep across her face and felt his control fraying at the edges.
This is dangerous.
He had brought her here instead of letting her return to her cold, empty apartment because he couldn’t stand the thought of her alone and freezing while that selfish boy drank in Roppongi. Practical concern, he had told himself. Basic decency.
But now she stood in his kitchen wearing his shirt like a weapon, half-unbuttoned, damp fabric clinging to every curve, nipples clearly visible, the hem barely covering her. She looked like sin wrapped in his own clothing.
His hands itched to touch her. His mind supplied vivid images of bending her over the counter, of spreading those thighs and burying himself inside her until she forgot every name but his.
He hated how badly he wanted it. She was nineteen. She was his neighbor. She belonged to someone else, even if that someone treated her like trash.
Nanami gripped the edge of the counter until his knuckles whitened, forcing his breathing to steady. He was an adult. He would act like one.
Nanami picked up a heated towel he had clearly thrown in the dryer while she changed and walked around the island until he stood directly in front of her.
“Turn around,” he murmured, voice low.
Mayumi obeyed, heart hammering. As she pivoted, the oversized shirt twisted and flared. The hem rode up, fully exposing the bare curve of her ass to him.
Nanami’s breath hitched audibly in the quiet kitchen. He stared for one long, agonizing second before forcing himself to drape the warm towel over her head. His large hands began gently massaging the moisture from her hair, slow, rhythmic, intoxicating.
She closed her eyes and leaned backward, deliberately pressing her hips flush against his groin. The friction of her naked skin against the front of his trousers was a silent, needy invitation.
Nanami’s hands stilled instantly on her head.
The air in the kitchen thickened, shifting from care to something raw and electric.
Mayumi opened her eyes. The towel slipped down to her shoulders.
He hadn’t stepped back. He was right behind her, so close she could feel the powerful thud of his heartbeat against her spine. She shifted again, slowly rolling her bare ass against him in a deliberate, taunting movement.
The last frayed thread of his restraint snapped.
Nanami had tried.
He had tried so damn hard to keep his hands where they belonged, only drying her hair, only offering warmth.
But the second she pressed her bare ass back against him, every rational thought evaporated.
With a low growl that sounded nothing like the composed man she knew, Nanami’s hands abandoned the towel and gripped her waist. In one swift motion he spun her around, hooked his hands under her thighs, and hoisted her onto the cold marble island.
Mayumi gasped sharply as the freezing stone met her bare ass and thighs. Nanami stepped between her spread knees, eyes burning behind his glasses.
His mouth crashed down on hers, hungry, demanding, tasting of bourbon and raw need. While his tongue ravaged her mouth, one large hand gripped the front of his shirt she wore and tore it open with a single jerk. Buttons scattered across the floor, leaving the ruined fabric hanging off her shoulders, her full breasts completely exposed.
He broke the kiss only to drag his hot mouth down her throat.
The moment his hands found her breasts, he lost his mind.
They were so much fuller than he had allowed himself to imagine, heavy, soft, and perfectly shaped in his large palms. The weight of them made something primal surge through him. He squeezed one roughly, feeling the supple flesh overflow between his fingers, the soft give that made his cock throb painfully against his trousers. Her nipple was already pebbled, begging for attention. When he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger, the way it tightened further under his touch nearly undid him.
Then he latched his mouth onto the other breast. The second his lips closed around her nipple, he was feral.
He sucked hard, greedy, desperate, drawing the sensitive peak deep into his mouth, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch and whimper. The soft, heavy flesh filled his mouth completely. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted to devour her. The wet, obscene sounds of his sucking mixed with her broken moans drove him insane. He bit down lightly, then soothed the sting with his tongue, sucking even harder, as if he could pull every sound, every shiver, every ounce of her pleasure straight into himself.
His fingers between her thighs were no gentler.
She was soaked, dripping wet from her own teasing, and the slick heat that enveloped his two thick fingers made his vision white out. She was tight, velvet-soft, and clenching around him like she never wanted him to leave. Every thrust of his fingers made wet, filthy sounds echo in the quiet kitchen. When he curled them upward and found that spongy spot inside her, her walls fluttered wildly around him and her back bowed off the counter.
He was completely lost.
All his carefully built discipline, his rules, his age gap awareness, his moral boundaries, shattered the moment she moaned his name like a prayer.
“Kento…” Mayumi whimpered, head falling back, fingers tangling desperately in his hair.
Hearing his name on her lips seemed to unravel him completely.
He sucked harder on her nipple, fingers pumping faster, thumb circling her swollen clit with ruthless precision. He wanted to ruin her. He wanted her to come apart so thoroughly that she would never forget who made her feel this way. The heavy weight of her breast in his mouth, the way it jiggled slightly with every thrust of his hand, the desperate way she gripped his hair, it all short-circuited his brain.
He was no longer the composed man. He was just a man starving for the woman trembling beneath him.
“You’re such a naughty girl, aren’t you?” he rasped against her wet skin, voice dark. “You wanted this so badly. You kept pushing.”
Mayumi couldn't answer. She could only moan and writhe on the cold marble, hips grinding down onto his fingers as pleasure built like a storm. The feels of his mouth on her breast and his fingers driving inside her was destroying her thought. She writhed on the cold marble, her bare ass grinding against the stone as she came unglued.
Hearing her cry out, seeing her surrendered and ruined beneath him, was his own tipping point. He drove his fingers deeper one last time, hitting her sweet spot with precision.
She shattered with a sobbing cry, her walls clenching tightly around his fingers as waves of intense pleasure crashed through her.
For a long minute, the only sound was the wet friction of his movements and her panting breaths. He kept his fingers buried deep inside her, milking every last drop of her climax, watching her tremble helplessly on the marble, in his home and wearing his ruined clothes. For that single moment, she was his.
Then the microwave clock clicked.
Mayumi watched the exact moment her neighbor slammed the iron vault shut.
Nanami withdrew his glistening fingers and stepped back abruptly, chest heaving. He looked at his hand, covered in her slick. Then at the nineteen-year-old girl sitting exposed on his counter in his torn shirt. The self-loathing that flooded his expression was devastating. Whatever primal heat had been there vanished, replaced by cold regret.
He pulled back as if her skin had burned him. His hands gripped until his knuckles turned white.
"Your clothes will be dry in thirty minutes," Nanami said. His voice was wrecked, but the ice-cold authority had returned. He sounded like he was reading a book, not addressing the woman he just ruined.
"Kento..." Mayumi whispered, her voice trembling, not from the cold this time, but from the whiplash of his retreat. The high of her climax vanished, replaced by a deep, aching coldness.
“Go home, Mayumi. As soon as they’re dry, you walk back across that hall. Before I forget that I’m an adult here.” he interrupted, harsh, punishing himself more than her.
He turned on his heel and walked into his study, shutting the heavy oak door behind him with a finality that echoed like a gunshot.
Mayumi sat frozen on the cold marble island, legs still slightly spread, Nanami’s torn shirt hanging open off her shoulders. Her chest heaved with every shallow breath. The remnants of her orgasm still pulsed faintly between her thighs, but the warmth was already draining away, replaced by a hollow ache.
She felt exposed. Raw.
Not just physically, though her breasts were bare and her slick coated the inside of her thighs, but in a way that went much deeper.
For one brief, blazing moment, she had made Kento Nanami lose control. She had felt the hunger in his hands, heard the growl in his voice, tasted the desperate need on his tongue. And then… he had slammed the door on it. On her.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She blinked them back fiercely.
Slowly, she slid off the island. Her bare feet met the cool hardwood. The ruined shirt slipped further down one shoulder as she moved.
She didn’t bother trying to close the shirt properly. With shaking fingers, she fastened only three middle buttons, the same deliberate few she had chosen earlier. The fabric gaped widely at her chest and barely covered the tops of her thighs.
She gathered her soaked clothes from the bathroom floor, bundling them in her arms. Then, he stood in the middle of his living room, staring at the closed study door.
The apartment was painfully quiet now. Only the soft hum of the rain against the windows remained.
Mayumi took a shaky breath and walked over to the door. She raised her hand, hesitating just inches from the wood.
Inside, she could hear nothing. No movement. No typing. Just silence.
“Kento…” she whispered, voice barely audible. She didn’t know if he could hear her. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted to say.
Thank you.
I'm sorry.
Please don’t shut me out.
She pressed her forehead against the cool wood for a long moment, then stepped back.
“Thank you for… everything,” she said softly to the closed door. “I’m sorry I pushed you.”
No answer came.
Mayumi turned and let herself out of his apartment, the door clicking shut behind her with a quiet finality that hurt more than she expected.
The hallway felt freezing after the heat of his kitchen.
She crossed the short distance to her own door on unsteady legs, the oversized shirt brushing against her bare skin with every step. The moment she was inside her dark apartment, she leaned back against the door and slid down until she was sitting on the floor.
Her body still hummed with the aftershocks of her orgasm, but her chest felt hollow.
Nanami stood with his back against the closed door, eyes closed, breathing deliberately slow and deep.
It wasn’t working. His hands were still trembling.
He could still taste her, the sweet, warm weight of her breast in his mouth, the way her nipple had hardened against his tongue as he sucked greedily, biting just hard enough to make her arch and cry out. He could still feel the soft, overflowing fullness of her tits spilling into his palms, so plush and perfect that he had squeezed them with bruising force, unable to get enough.
And lower… God, lower.
He could still feel the slick, scorching heat of her pussy clenching desperately around his fingers, so wet, so tight, so impossibly responsive. The way her velvet walls had fluttered and pulsed when he curled his fingers against that sensitive spot inside her. The obscene, wet sounds her body had made as he thrust deeper, faster, drunk on the way she dripped down his hand. The broken, needy whimper of his name on her lips, “Kento…”, had nearly made him come undone right there.
What the hell have I done?
She was nineteen. Barely an adult. Have an entitled, neglectful boyfriend who treated her like property. And he, a twentyseven-year-old who prided himself on control and discipline, had just finger-fucked her on his kitchen island like a starving animal.
Nanami dragged a hand down his face, knocking his glasses askew. His cock was still painfully hard, straining against his trousers, throbbing with the memory of her naked ass grinding back against him, her slick coating his fingers, her full breasts bouncing slightly with every thrust of his hand.
He had brought her here to keep her safe from the cold and from that useless boy. Not to ruin her. Not to ruin her. Not to his own repressed hunger override every line he had drawn for himself.
The worst part wasn’t the loss of control.
The worst part was how much he had wanted it.
How perfect her body had felt under his hands. How desperately he still wanted to open that door, drag her back inside, rip the rest of his shirt off her, spread her thighs wide on the counter again, and bury his cock deep inside that dripping, greedy little pussy until she screamed his name and forgot every other man who had ever touched her.
He wanted to ruin her for anyone else. He wanted to keep her.
And that realization terrified him more than anything.
Nanami exhaled shakily and walked to his desk. He sank into the leather chair, staring at the untouched stack of briefs in front of him.
He wouldn’t go after her.
He couldn’t.
If he opened that door right now, he wasn’t sure he would be strong enough to stop again. One more look at her, flushed, half-naked in his torn shirt, lips swollen from his kiss, and he would snap completely.
So he stayed seated, jaw clenched so tightly it ached, knuckles white where his hands gripped the arms of the chair.
He listened in silence as the soft sound of his front door opening and closing echoed through the apartment.
She was gone.
And the silence that followed felt heavier than any rainstorm outside.
The apartment felt colder without her in it.
Across the hall, Mayumi sat on her own floor still wearing only his half-buttoned shirt, knees drawn to her chest.
The silence here felt different now, heavier, lonelier.
The fabric smelled like him. Her body still ached with the ghost of his touch, mouth on her breasts, fingers buried deep inside her.
She walked to the window and looked out at the rain still pouring down.
Across the hall, the amber sconce above Nanami’s door was still on, the same soft golden light that had become her silent sanctuary.
But tonight, it felt like a warning instead of an invitation.
Mayumi pressed her palm flat against the cool glass.
She had wanted to make him crack.
She had succeeded.
And now she wasn’t sure either of them knew how to put the pieces back together.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Tags: Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Infidelity, Cheating, Married Man, Seduction, Adultery, Age Difference, Sexual Tension, Guilt, Pining, Temptation, Power Imbalance, Modern AU-No Powers AU.
Chapter 5: Guilt Looks Good on Him
The apartment door clicked open at 6 AM. Megumi stepped inside, his bag slung over his shoulder, looking tired but visibly pleased to be home. Yuria was already waiting in the entryway, wearing nothing but one of his oversized shirts.
She threw herself into his arms with an enthusiastic hug and a kiss, tongue sliding against his as she pressed her body against him. Her nipples were already hard, rubbing against his chest through the shirt.
“I missed you,” she whispered sweetly, voice soft and clingy, even as the faint soreness between her thighs reminded her of how hard she’d ridden her toys while screaming Yuta’s name the night before. She pushed the memory down, smiling brighter. “Welcome home, baby.”
Megumi smirked, hands sliding down to squeeze her bare ass under the shirt. “Good to be back.”
Yuria already cooked him a hearty breakfast, eggs, rice, miso soup, and fresh fruit. Megumi ate at the kitchen table, eyes following her every move. Yuria understands that stare. When he finally pushed his empty plate away, Yuria didn’t waste a second. She dropped gracefully to her knees between his legs under the table, looking up at him with big, adoring hazel eyes.
She pulled his cock out tenderly, stroking him slowly until he was rock-hard. Then she gave him one of her best performances, slow, wet, loving. Her full, pouty lips stretched wide around his thick cock as she took him deep into her throat. She bobbed her head with devoted care, saliva dripping down her chin.
After a few minutes she pulled off with a wet pop, undressed herself completely, and pressed her breasts together around his cock. She titfucked him with perfect pressure, soft, warm flesh enveloping him completely while her tongue swirled around the leaking head.
“Mmm… I missed you so much,” she murmured sweetly, voice husky, even as her mind replaced Megumi’s face with Yuta’s kinder eyes and the way his hands had squeezed her tits and ass the night before. “I need you, baby… need you to fuck me.”
Megumi groaned, threading his fingers through her long black hair. After several long minutes of sloppy, devoted oral and perfect titfucking, he pulled her up, spun her around, and bent her over the kitchen counter.
He entered her in one smooth thrust, lifting one of her thick thighs high so he could drive deeper. Yuria’s huge breasts bounced wildly against the cool marble with every powerful stroke, nipples dragging, while her big, round ass rippled and jiggled in his grip.
She moaned loudly, pushing back against him, with even more enthusiasm with every gasp and whimper. But in her head it wasn’t Megumi’s cock stretching her, it was Yuta’s. Those strong, gentle hands. That low, calm voice turning rough. The memory of his tongue in her mouth and his fingers digging into her ass made her wetter, tighter.
Megumi fucked her harder, groaning, “Fuck…” before he buried himself deep and came hard, pumping her full of thick cum.
He stayed buried deep for a long moment, hips pressed flush against her plump ass, grinding lazily while he caught his breath. One hand stayed possessively on her wide hip, the other lazily groping the soft weight of her breast. Only when his cock finally stopped twitching did he slowly pull out. A thick trail of his cum immediately leaked from her puffy pussy and slid down the inside of her thigh in a slow, messy trickle.
Still leaning against the kitchen counter, Megumi reached for his phone without stepping away. His free hand stayed on her ass, idly squeezing and spreading one cheek as he opened the banking app.
“Almost forgot,” he said casually, thumbs tapping across the screen, voice still rough from his orgasm. “I’ll send you the apartment maintenance fee and this month’s rent today. Plus your usual allowance.” He glanced at her with a lazy smirk as the transfers went through. “There. Sent.”
Yuria turned in his arms, still flushed and breathing hard, her breasts brushing against his chest. Cum continued to drip warmly down her thigh as she rose onto her tiptoes and kissed his jaw sweetly, voice soft and adoring.
“Thank you, baby… You always take such good care of me.”
Megumi gave her ass a firm, appreciative squeeze, then added almost offhandedly, “You want anything else while I’m feeling generous? That new designer bag you showed me last week? Some heels? Jewelry? Or something for the apartment? Just say the word.”
Yuria’s hazel eyes lit up instantly. “Yes! Yes, I want it. The bag and necklace!” she said, voice bright and eager, pressing her naked body closer to his. “Just send me the money right now, baby. I’ll go shopping today.”
Megumi chuckled, already tapping on his phone again. “Greedy today, huh? Fine.” He transferred another generous amount, enough to cover the bag and then some more, then showed her the screen. “Done. Enjoy it.”
Yuria let out a delighted little squeal and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep, hungry kiss. Her tongue slid against his, slow and filthy, while her cum-slick thighs rubbed together. Megumi groaned into her mouth, one hand tangling in her long black hair, the other squeezing her ass as they made out lazily against the counter for a long, heated minute, wet, open-mouthed kisses that left her lips glossy and swollen.
When she finally pulled back, she was smiling sweetly up at him, the picture of a grateful, satisfied girl. “You spoil me so much… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
On the outside, her voice was warm and sweet.
Inside, the words felt hollower than ever.
This is nice… but I want more.
Her mind was already drifting upward, straight to the penthouse.
──────•✦•────────────•✦•────────────•✦•──────
At 8 AM, Yuria changed into a casual dress. The neckline plunged deep, putting her jiggling cleavage on full display. The light fabric clung to every curve, and the short hem fluttered around her thighs. She wore nothing underneath.
She timed it perfectly.
Yuta had just stepped out of the private penthouse elevator at the end of the marble hallway, second, smaller set of doors hidden behind the discreet panel. He was heading toward the regular elevator to go down to the 30th-floor gym, dressed in casual workout clothes.
“Yuta-san! Perfect timing,” she called brightly, lighting up with an innocent smile the moment he got closer. Since the hallway was empty, she didn’t hesitate. She stepped straight into his space and hugged him like she’d been waiting all morning, pressing her soft, braless tits firmly against his chest. Her nipples, already stiff from the cool morning air, rubbed against the thin fabric of his shirt.
“Thank you again for coming over last night…” she whispered, letting the warm vanilla-floral scent of her skin wrap around him like an invitation. “You’re so strong and reliable. I felt so safe with you.”
Yuta’s dark-blue eyes softened. For a split second his hand hovered near her back, almost returning the hug on pure instinct, before he caught himself and carefully took a step back, creating a polite sliver of distance.
“Are you okay after being alone last night?” His voice was gentle, steady, the same calm tone that had made her melt in the kitchen. But there was a new tightness underneath it now, a crack in the composure he was fighting to keep.
Yuria pouted cutely, biting her plump lower lip as she looked up at him through her lashes. She lifted two fingers and touched her own lips lightly, tracing them with deliberate slowness. Her voice dropped to a soft, teasing whisper that still somehow sounded vulnerable.
“I’m still thinking about that kiss, Yuta-san…” She let the words linger, eyes sparkling with something between innocence and hunger. “The way you kissed me back… just for a moment. Your lips were so warm. So gentle. I’ve been replaying it all night. You felt it too, didn’t you?”
Yuta’s breath caught sharply. The memory slammed into him without warning: the plush give of her mouth, the faint taste of her gloss, the tiny needy sound she’d made when he’d kissed her back for those dangerous five or six seconds. His hand had cupped her face. His thumb had brushed her tear away like she was something precious.
Heat flooded his face. His cock twitched inside his workout shorts, thickening against his will at the reminder. Guilt crashed over him immediately. He was supposed to be better than this. He was better than this.
His jaw tightened until the muscle jumped.
“Yuria…” he started, his voice rough and low, almost pained. He forced himself to look away from her big hazel eyes, from the way the thin dress clung to the heavy swell of her breasts. “That kiss never should have happened. You kissed me first… and I lost control for a second. I kissed you back, and that was wrong. I’m married and you’re with Megumi-kun. We can’t… I can’t.”
He swallowed hard, jaw tight, the muscle jumping. “Please… don’t do that again. Don’t put me in that position.”
But even as he said it, his dark-blue eyes flicked back down to her glossy lips for the briefest heartbeat, betraying him. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, knuckles white, like he was physically holding himself back from touching her again.
Yuria felt a rush of triumph bloom low in her belly. She could see the war inside him, the guilt, the desire, the way his body was already reacting to her even while his mouth tried to push her away.
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime right beside them.
Yuta hurried inside without another word, shoulders rigid, clearly fighting to keep his expression neutral. But Yuria could see the faint flush on his neck, the way his breathing had grown just a fraction deeper.
She followed him in with a playful sway in her hips, the short dress fluttering teasingly around her thighs, a satisfied little spark glowing in her chest.
Got you again.
Then they stepped out together on the 30th floor. Yuria stayed right beside him as they walked toward the gym entrance.
“Could you give me some more workout tips later, Yuta-san?” she asked sweetly, voice dripping with fake innocence as they approached the gym doors.
Yuta gave a small nod, clearly trying to keep things polite. Yuria hastened her steps just enough to let him walk slightly behind her. Then, right in front of the gym entrance, she let out a soft little “Oops…” and bent over slowly, pretending to adjust the strap of her sandal.
The short dress rode up her thighs higher… higher until the hem caught right beneath the full, round curve of her bare ass. No panties. The bright hallway lights lit up every glistening pink fold of her smooth, puffy pussy and the smooth, plump cheeks of her ass on full display for him.
Yuta stopped dead mid-step.
His breath caught in a sharp, choked hitch that echoed in the quiet hallway. For one long, frozen second his dark-blue eyes stayed locked on her exposed cunt, watching the way her slick lips caught the light, the soft jiggle of her bare cheeks as she pretended to fiddle with the strap. Heat flooded his face and neck in a violent rush. His cock throbbed hard inside his workout shorts.
His hands curled into tight fists at his sides, knuckles turning bone-white. The muscle in his jaw jumped as he tried, and failed to look away. The memory of his own words from the elevator rang in his head like a taunt: Please… don’t do that again. And here she was, doing exactly that, right in front of him, in broad daylight.
But his throat felt too tight, his body too frozen by the sight of her plump ass and her wet pussy clenching subtly under his stare. He simply stood there, staring, heart hammering so hard he was sure she could hear it.
God… I need to stop.
He took one shaky step forward, then another, forcing his gaze to the floor. Without another word he went past her and shoved through the gym doors without a single word, shoulders rigid, the obvious erection in his shorts leading the way as he fled inside.
Yuria straightened up slowly, the sundress fluttering back down to cover her curves like nothing had happened. A satisfied little smile curved her lips as she watched the door swing shut behind him.
He told me not to… and I did it anyway.
A fresh rush of heat bloomed between her own thighs. She licked her lips slowly, already replaying the way his eyes had devoured her.
He’s cracking, Yuta-san. And it looks so good on you.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Tags: Romance, Age Gap, Cheating, Secret Relationship, Power Dynamics, Alternate Universe – Modern Setting
Chapter 5: Her Life
The library smelled of old paper and stale coffee, a comforting, anonymous scent Mayumi usually sought out.
She sat beside Satsuki at a scarred table in the back corner. Satsuki was aggressively highlighting a volume on classical antiquities, her phone buzzing every few minutes with notifications from a group chat.
“Okay, I’m calling it,” Satsuki announced, tossing her highlighter down and stretching her arms overhead with a dramatic groan. “My brain is officially sludge. A bunch of us from the seminar are hitting that cheap ramen place near the station tonight. Half-price drafts on Thursdays. You have to come this time.”
Mayumi looked up from her laptop. For a split second, the idea sounded like heaven. Sitting in a cramped booth, eating cheap food, surrounded by people who didn't care about tax brackets.
"I can't," Mayumi said, the numbness instantly creeping back into her chest.
Satsuki’s face fell. “Mayumi, come on. You’ve bailed on the last three group dinners. Is Naoya dragging you to another one of those suffocating nights again?”
“No, it’s not Naoya,” Mayumi lied smoothly, though exhaustion bled through her voice. “I have to prep for a dinner with his extended family.”
She couldn’t tell Satsuki the truth: that she had to go home and wait for the next wire transfer from her mother’s boyfriend, or that Reiko would call soon to inspect her like a prized racehorse, critiquing her outfit, her posture, and whether she was “presentable enough” for the Zenins.
Satsuki sighed, resting her chin in her hands. The pity in her eyes was raw and unfiltered, the kind that made Mayumi feel small and pathetic rather than seen.
“You know, you’re allowed to just be a nineteen-year-old sometimes,” Satsuki said gently. “You don’t always have to be on duty for him.”
Mayumi closed her laptop. I'm always on duty, she thought, an invisible collar tightening around her throat.
"I really have to go, Satsu," Mayumi murmured, standing up and gathering her things. "I'll see you in class tomorrow."
The phone vibrated against the marble countertop, the buzzing cutting through the quiet kitchen.
Mayumi stared at the screen.
Incoming Call: Mother
She let it ring twice before answering, pressing the phone to her ear with the practiced calm of someone who had done this dance many times before.
“Mayumi,” Reiko’s voice came through, crisp and businesslike, no greeting wasted. “The transfer went through. Did you buy the dress I told you about? Something tight, elegant, black would be best. The Zenins notice details.”
Mayumi leaned against the counter, fingers tracing the edge of the cold marble. “I’m looking at a few options tonight.”
“Good. And make sure it’s not too cheap-looking. Mr. Tanaka is being generous with the allowance again this month, so don’t embarrass us.” Reiko paused, then added with calculated sweetness, “Naoya’s cousins will be there. You know how important this dinner is. Smile more. Laugh at their jokes. Let them see what a refined young woman you’ve become.”
Mayumi’s grip tightened on the phone. Refined. Presentable. Useful.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Tell me you booked the lymphatic massage.”
Reiko’s voice was clipped and echoed slightly, likely projected through the Bluetooth speakers of a town car paid for by Mr. Tanaka.
“Yes, Mother. Thursday afternoon, like you asked.”
“Good. You need to prep for the Zenin dinner. The Chairman is attending this one, not just Naoya’s immediate family.” Reiko paused, and Mayumi could hear the click of a lighter, followed by a long exhale. “Naobito Zenin does not tolerate sloppy things, Mayumi. And right now, you are Naoya’s girlfriend.”
Mayumi closed her eyes, leaning her hip against the cold counter. She was nineteen, yet her mother spoke to her as if she were a volatile stock portfolio.
“I know,” Mayumi murmured, her voice flat.
“Have you been keeping up with your Pilates? You have a heavy figure, Mayumi. If you don’t maintain a strict waistline, you’ll just look soft and vulgar in whatever Naoya chose for you. It reflects poorly on me. It makes it look like I haven’t taught you how to maintain your value.”
My value. Mayumi looked down at her hands. The knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the counter. “I’m maintaining my weight, Mother. I fit into the dress.”
“See that you do. This isn’t one of his frat parties. This is a corporate exhibition with a Michelin-starred menu. Do not speak unless spoken to. Drink half a glass of champagne, no more. And for god’s sake, smile.” Reiko sighed in irritation. “I’m securing my future here in Kyoto. Do not ruin yours in Tokyo by being a bore. Understood?”
“Understood, Mother.”
The line went dead.
Mayumi didn’t lower the phone immediately. She just stood there, feeling as though the air had been vacuumed out of the room. She was a line item in Reiko’s budget. A strategic asset meant to secure a tie to the Zenin conglomerate.
Before she could even set the device down, the screen lit up again with a ping.
Naoya [02:14 PM]: Dinner is at 8 on Friday. My cousins are flying in from Osaka.
Naoya [02:15 PM]: Get your hair blown out. Don't make me look bad in front of others.
Naoya [02:16 PM]: Read 02:16 PM
Mayumi stared at the messages until the words blurred. No greeting. No “how was your day.” Just instructions, as if she were an accessory he could schedule and polish at the last minute.
She set the phone down carefully, as if it might shatter if handled too roughly. The marble countertop felt ice-cold beneath her palms.
For a long moment she didn’t move. Then, almost mechanically, she opened her banking app. The latest transfer from Reiko had cleared, ¥500,000, labeled simply “Personal.” Enough for the dress, the hair appointment, the massage, and whatever else her mother and Naoya decided she needed to look “expensive.”
Mayumi exhaled slowly and picked up her bag.
Thirty minutes later, she stood inside one of the upscale boutiques in Shibuya that Reiko favored, the kind with minimalist black interiors, soft lighting, and sales associates who greeted her by name because they recognized the Zenin connection.
A sleek black dress hung on the fitting room hook in front of her. It was exactly what her mother had described: tight through the waist and hips, with a modest but elegant neckline that still managed to accentuate her figure. The fabric was expensive, the cut unforgiving. It would hug every curve Naoya liked to show off and every flaw Reiko wanted hidden.
Mayumi stepped into the dress and stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror. The girl looking back at her looked polished. Expensive. Perfectly packaged.
She hated it.
The zipper slid up with a quiet hiss. The dress fit like a second skin, cinching her waist and pushing her breasts into the exact shape Naoya preferred. She turned sideways, checking the line of her hips, the way the hem stopped just above her knees. It was beautiful in the way a cage could be beautiful, elegant, restrictive, and impossible to forget you were wearing it.
Her phone buzzed again from inside her bag.
She didn’t check it. She already knew what it would be.
Instead, she stepped out of the fitting room. The sales associate smiled brightly.
“That looks stunning on you, Asahina-san. Shall I wrap it up?”
Mayumi nodded, voice flat. “Yes. Please.”
While the woman rang up the purchase, Mayumi stood at the counter and finally opened her messages.
Mother [02:37 PM]: Send me a photo once you try it on. I want to approve before you pay.
Mayumi lifted the phone, took a quick mirror selfie in the black dress, and sent it without caption. Within seconds, the typing bubble appeared.
Mother [02:38 PM]: Good. That’s acceptable. Wear the diamond studs Naoya gave you. And don’t slouch.
Mayumi paid with the card linked to Tanaka’s account. The total made her stomach twist, more than most students spent in months, but the transaction went through without hesitation.
As she left the boutique with the sleek black bag swinging from her fingers, the late afternoon sun felt too bright, too harsh. People laughed on the sidewalks, carefree in jeans and sneakers. She wondered what it would feel like to walk into a cheap ramen shop right now instead of preparing for a dinner where every smile would be measured, every word weighed.
Her feet carried her toward the salon two blocks away for the mandatory blowout.
Inside her chest, something small and tired kept whispering the same question:
How long can I keep going before I disappear completely?
Across the city, in a quiet apartment in Meguro, a single amber sconce remained switched on, a soft golden light that asked for nothing and expected even less.
Mayumi adjusted the shopping bag on her arm and kept walking.
She still had two more days to perfect the version of herself they all wanted.
Across the hall, Kento Nanami was likely at his work. He was a man who lived by his own code, who valued efficiency, who looked at the mess of her life and saw exactly what it was.
He had bought her a pastry because she looked hungry. He had given her his silence because she was drowning in noise. He had left a light on because he knew she was.
Mayumi pressed her forehead against her own door. A humiliating tear slipped down her cheek, soaking into the collar of her sweatshirt.
If Nanami saw her on Friday night, strapped into that black silk dress, displayed while Naoya’s cousins paraded her around like a prized hunting dog, would he still look at her with that quiet, protective pity?
Or would the heat she had seen flash in his eyes take over, realizing she was exactly what her mother raised her to be: a girl perfectly willing to be bought and sold?
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
Moving into Tokyo’s luxurious Glass Tower, Yuria Takahashi finds herself drawn to her neighbor, Yuta Okkotsu.
What starts as stolen glances quickly ignites into a forbidden passion that tests the limits of their desire, loyalty and threatens to consume them both.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
For Mayumi Asahina, her life is a performance funded by those who own her. Across the hall, Kento Nanami lives strictly by the clock. But when the rain shatters his discipline, a romance unfolds.
Between stolen nights, she finds unexpected solace and dangerous passion in the arms of her stoic neighbor.
