Under the covers, the girl rubbed her lower abdomen with the back of her hand, instinctively squeezing her thighs together, her beautiful face hazed over with something dreamy and unfocused.
She felt herself slipping into a strange register, as if she'd been pulled back into those afternoons when Yūto Shō had bullied her in broad daylight. The craving rose so intensely she couldn't stop herself from grazing her knuckles slowly across her lower belly.
"Hiss—" The instant she brushed that telltale spot, her breath hitched, her delicate frame shivering once, an inexplicable warmth blooming through her. She hesitated, eyes fluttering shut, then resumed the slow, deliberate drag of her hand.
"Mmm…" A small hum slipped from her throat as she rubbed. The back of her hand no longer satisfied her, so she turned her palm flat against the itching spot and pressed gently, working in slow circles.
"Wuu… so good…"
Sato Ruri bit down on her lower lip, lashes quivering against her cheeks like a moth's wings. Her grip tightened, her rhythm quickened, and—for reasons she couldn't excuse to herself—Yūto Shō's face surfaced behind her eyelids, uninvited and impossible to banish.
Her breathing scattered into something messy. She curled up tighter under the comforter, her hand drifting lower, lower, until her fingers stumbled into unfamiliar territory and brushed the soft, swollen place she'd never dared map. Her mind went white. A hot current surged up through her belly like a wave breaking.
The girl's body locked rigid. After a long, suspended moment, she finally slumped boneless into the sheets, her pretty mouth fallen open, chest heaving, cheeks flushed the color of ripe persimmons.
Once her senses drifted back, Sato Ruri noticed her palm was slick and warm, the soft place between her thighs damp through the fabric. She froze, staring at nothing.
...
"Today's scumbag rating: Outstanding."
"Reward: 200 Scum Points."
"Current Scum Points balance: 200."
"Comment: A scumbag with some achievements to his name."
Past midnight, Yūto Shō gave up waiting for Tachibana Hina and let the system roll into its nightly settlement.
His scumbag performance had hit the outstanding tier, but only by a hair. Since he'd only managed to wreck Sato Ruri, the system rewarded him with a mere 200 points.
He'd genuinely expected Tachibana Hina to drop by tonight—figured he could squeeze in a quick play—so he'd loitered around the apartment like a side character waiting for a flag to trigger. Total miscalculation.
By around ten, he'd already sensed she probably wasn't coming, but breaking character meant he couldn't exactly reach out himself. He had an image to protect. Tomorrow, then.
He slept like the dead until morning, and the second his eyes cracked open, a fresh system notification was already blinking across his vision.
"You got stood up yesterday and your mood is in the gutter. You've decided to get even today."
"Route One: Keep playing the patient saint and wait for her to come to you, then deliver an Oscar-worthy scumbag performance. Look dejected and tell her: the girl you secretly liked came to your place yesterday. You confessed, kissed, fumbled at each other's bodies. But when her hand strayed down toward your crotch, you couldn't get it up. The reason? After being intimate with Tachibana Hina, you've lost all interest in young girls' bodies—now only the soft, ripened body of a married woman can move you."
"Route Two: Take the initiative and barge into their home. March into the wife's bedroom right in front of Natsuo Fuji, lock the door, and rail Tachibana Hina inside while Natsuo Fuji listens from the hallway."
Yūto Shō raised an eyebrow. The system seemed to be syncing with his mood now—he'd spent yesterday sulking like a Gundam pilot benched from a sortie, and the notification this morning arrived like clockwork.
Revenge, huh?
Reading through the mission specs, weighing Route One against Route Two, Yūto Shō couldn't help marveling at how unhinged the system really was.
Route Two was too feral, straight-up beast-mode protagonist territory; he'd never seriously considered it. Route One, though—Route One was an elaborate snare designed specifically for Tachibana Hina, and the suspense was in how she'd react when the trap snapped shut.
…
After locking in his choice, Yūto Shō got up, washed his face, boiled himself a quick bowl of noodles, and sat down to rehearse.
The whole mission hinged on whether he could sell the performance well enough to fool Tachibana Hina. She was a grown woman with years of workplace experience under her belt—not exactly easy to scam.
That said, Yūto Shō replayed the past two days in his head and decided he hadn't slipped up anywhere worth worrying about. The pure, slightly bookish student image he'd cultivated was holding strong. So long as his acting wasn't a total dumpster fire, she wouldn't catch on.
Before she arrived, he ducked into the bathroom to practice in front of the mirror.
His stubble had started coming in, and he left it alone. His hair was a mess. The overall look read decadent and unwell, exactly what he wanted.
Then he padded over to the fridge, grabbed an onion Sato Ruri had bought yesterday, took it to the kitchen, and started chopping. He leaned right over the cutting board, letting the fumes rake his eyes raw and red.
…
By the time the doorbell rang, it was almost noon. Yūto Shō tossed the diced onion into the trash, dropped his shoulders into a slump, and shuffled over to answer.
Tachibana Hina stood on the threshold holding a thermal lunch box. The instant she registered Yūto Shō's wrecked expression, her face shifted. "Shō-Kun, why do you look so pale? Are you sick?"
He forced the corners of his mouth up. "I'm fine. Hina-Nee, did you need me for something?"
Her eyes flicked to the redness rimming his lids, the unmistakable look of someone who'd been crying. Her worry deepened. "I made some rice and brought it over. You haven't eaten yet, have you?"
Yūto Shō noticed a sliver of light spilling from the door across the hall—Natsuo Fuji, eavesdropping like the world's worst ninja. He hesitated. "Hina-Nee, I'm not really hungry."
"Let's go inside first. We can talk in there." With Natsuo Fuji's gaze burning a hole in her back, Tachibana Hina chose to step in alone.
Yūto Shō sighed, looking helpless, and shut the door.
…
Once the door clicked closed and Natsuo Fuji's sightline was severed, Tachibana Hina finally exhaled. She turned to him with quiet concern. "Shō-Kun, were you crying just now? Did something happen?"
His face darkened and he shook his head. "I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well."
"If it was just bad sleep, would your eyes really be that red? You clearly look like you've been crying. Can't you tell your noona what's wrong?"
She spoke softly, her tone the gentle cadence of a kindly neighborhood older sister coaxing a scraped-up kid into showing her the cut.
Yūto Shō hesitated, then shook his head again. "I'm really fine."
A flicker of anxiety crossed her face, but she kept her composure and pitched her voice even softer. "We're partners now, remember? When something's wrong, we should be helping each other out. And, Shō-Kun—you've done so much for me. Seeing you like this and not knowing why… honestly, that would hurt me more than anything."
He paused for a long beat, then let out a sigh, as if her words had cracked through his defenses. He lowered his head, voice barely above a murmur. "That girl I've been secretly into… she came to see me yesterday."
Tachibana Hina thought back to the silhouette of the girl she'd glimpsed the day before and asked gently, "Is this about her?"
Yūto Shō's expression collapsed into something rawer, his mood sinking visibly. "Yeah. We confessed to each other yesterday."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Tachibana Hina blinked, genuinely lost. A mutual confession meant the feelings ran both ways—what was there to be sad about?
"It really was a good thing. I was so happy in the moment. I finally had her."
Yūto Shō stared off into the middle distance, voice flat. "After we confessed, I started kissing her like I couldn't help myself, and she was kissing me back, just as into it. We touched each other. We were both so worked up, tangled together…"
Heat crept up Tachibana Hina's ears. She'd never done anything like that herself in her life, but for Yūto Shō's sake she pushed past her own embarrassment and slipped into the role of the patient elder, forcing the question out. "And then?"