Yu clutched Kenji a little tighter, heart fluttering in his chest as the air between Taichi and Riku grew sharper by the second. From his place on the couch, he could feel every shift in Taichi's posture—shoulders squared, jaw tight, eyes locked on his father with a look that was equal parts defiance and need. Across from him, Riku sat regal, composed, though his words cut like a whip.
Yu's stomach twisted.
'Moving into Riku's home?'
The thought made his skin crawl. He had worked so hard to build their little cocoon with Taichi, to carve out a safe space where laughter, quiet meals, and the soft babble of babies filled the air.
'Could that survive under the weight of Riku's authority?'
He glanced down at Kenji, who stirred in his lap, and then at Taro still nestled against his grandfather's chest. The babies looked so calm, so unbothered. Why did it feel like Yu was the only one unraveling?
Riku's voice pulled him back, firm but not unkind.
"You've put too much pressure on him, Taichi. Look at Yu."
His sharp eyes flicked to Yu, and the weight of his attention made Yu's throat tighten.
"He's exhausted. He needs rest, not more burdens. From now on, I'll be training you as another heir myself. You'll learn the business under me. Alongside Isuke."
The name landed like a stone in the silence that followed. Yu's breath caught. He'd known Isuke as many things—rival, tormentor, shadow—but never like this. Beside him, Taichi stiffened, his head snapping up as though the word itself had burned him.
"…Isuke?"
Taichi's voice was low, dangerous.
"Why him? Why would he be your heir when you already have a son—me?"
Yu's fingers tightened reflexively around Kenji's small body, his own pulse thudding hard in his ears. He wanted to vanish, to hide from the storm that was building, but his eyes were fixed on the two men in front of him.
Riku exhaled slowly, like a man deciding whether to tear off an old bandage. His gaze softened only slightly, though his words were blunt.
"Because Isuke is also my son. Your half-brother. Born from the mistake I made all those years ago."
The room went silent. Taichi froze, staring at his father as though the world had tilted beneath his feet. And Yu—Yu could only sit there, numb, clutching his child as the truth settled over them like a heavy shroud.
Yu's mind reeled, the words echoing over and over until they no longer sounded like words at all but like a cruel joke.
'Isuke… Taichi's half-brother…'
His chest tightened, nausea rolling through him.
DK01's voice pulsed in his head, clinical as ever.
[You should have known. It was stated in the original world data when you entered for this mission. I told you their roles upon meeting the heroine and world's protagonist.]
Yu's throat constricted, panic clawing at his insides.
'That was years ago!'
He snapped inwardly, his voice breaking in the quiet of his own mind.
'I forgot—I forgot! I had so much else, so much pain, so much love—I can't remember every damned detail from a screen of text!'
DK01 fell silent. But the damage was already done. Yu's breath hitched, the fear of what this revelation might mean pressing like lead in his stomach.
'Half-brothers… That makes everything between them worse. So much worse…'
The silence shattered.
Taichi shot to his feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor.
"What the hell did you just say!?"
His voice thundered, ragged with disbelief and fury.
"That bastard—my half-brother? You cheated on mom with his mother, and now you've been grooming him as your heir instead of me?!"
His tone cracked the air like a whip, sharp enough to make both twins wail at once. Kenji's face scrunched up in Yu's arms, tiny fists flailing as sobs burst out of him. Yu quickly rocked him, whispering shaky comforts, pressing kisses to his crown though his own heart raced.
Across the room, Ling stepped in smoothly, lifting Taro from Riku's arms with a practiced gentleness. But before she could fully soothe the boy, Taichi stormed over, his expression still blazing, and reached for his son.
"I'll take him."
His voice was clipped, but the moment Taro was in his embrace, the fire softened. He held the boy against his chest, rocking gently, murmuring nonsense until the baby's cries began to slow. It was quick, instinctive—the kind of comfort that only a father who had fought every day to be present could give.
Yu watched them through tear-bright eyes, his fear still gnawing at him, but his heart aching at the sight of Taichi—so fierce and so tender, all in the same breath.
Yu's chest tightened, the air in Riku's office suddenly far too thin. His trembling hands clutched Kenji tighter, but no amount of rocking could settle the storm in his own heart.
'Half-brothers…'
The word scraped against his insides, raw and merciless. In an instant, the weight of every memory he'd fought so hard to bury came rushing back. Isuke's hands pinning him, his lips forcing their way onto his own, the vile heat of touches that left him trembling with both revulsion and shame. The betrayal of college—the whispers in the halls, the looks that branded him freak—all because Isuke had spilled his secret, feeding the hatred that stalked Yu to his own doorstep.
He swallowed hard, nausea curling as if those wounds were being torn open afresh. His body remembered too much, phantom sensations clinging like cobwebs he could never shake free. And now… to know that man shared Taichi's blood, that the shadow of Isuke had been woven into their story from the start—it was unbearable. His vision blurred as he whispered to himself.
'Please, don't let this break us…'
Taichi's roar cut through his spiraling.
"I refuse!"
His voice was thunder, eyes blazing into his father's.
"I don't want to be your heir, and I don't want this job anymore. Forget it—I quit!"
Riku's eyes widened. For a heartbeat, the great man looked almost small, stunned into silence. Then he surged to his feet, his voice sharp and commanding.
"Unreasonable! Childish! You're throwing a fit like the same foolish boy who stormed out years ago! Do you think temper tantrums put food on the table? Do you think rebelling keeps a roof over your family's head? You want to be a man—then see the bigger picture!"
The word family froze Taichi where he stood. His breath caught, fury colliding with fear. He wanted to spit back venom, to rebel, to prove he wasn't his father's pawn—but the truth clawed at him. He couldn't afford to be jobless, not now. Not when Yu was sitting there pale and trembling, cradling Kenji to his chest. Not when Taro's tiny hand curled in his shirt. Not when Yu's belly already carried the flicker of new life.
He pressed Taro closer, his jaw trembling as he fought to keep his voice steady.
"...Damn you."
He whispered under his breath, more to himself than his father. For the first time in years, Taichi's rage felt chained—not by his father's power, but by his own love.
Yu's heart clenched at the sight, fear and awe warring inside him. The storm was far from over.
Riku's voice cut like a whip through the silence.
"You're not walking out of this, Taichi. Enough tantrums. You will be trained as my heir. Isuke has already started, and if you don't start now, you'll be left behind. Do you really think a lowly position will support that family of yours? What happens when one income isn't enough? When bills pile up? When your children need more than you can give?"
His eyes flicked to Yu and the babies, cold but sharp.
"You want to protect them? Then grow up, take the role, and make sure they never want for anything."
Taichi's teeth ground together so hard his jaw ached. He wanted to spit back that he wasn't his father's puppet, that he didn't need his wealth or his conditions. But Yu's pale face, the small rise of his chest from holding his breath, the faint weight of Taro curled into him—those silenced the rage before it burst. Taichi swallowed it down, his hand tightening on his son instead.
The meeting broke there, raw tension lingering in the air. Riku didn't press further, but the demand was left ringing like a blade at Taichi's throat.
When Taichi finally walked Yu and the kids out of the building, the air outside felt mercifully lighter, but Yu's chest was still heavy with guilt. His eyes shimmered as he whispered,
"I'm sorry… I shouldn't have come. I made everything worse."
Taichi stopped, turned to him, and leaned in. His kiss was soft, grounding, his hand brushing Yu's cheek.
"You didn't make anything worse."
He murmured.
"Don't ever think that. I love you."
Yu blinked fast, trying not to cry again. His voice cracked, fragile.
"I love you too, but what are you going to do? About… becoming an heir? About keeping this job? About Isuke?"
Taichi exhaled slowly, his thumb still on Yu's skin.
"I don't know yet…"
He admitted, raw honesty in his tone.
"But for now, go home. I'll finish work and we'll talk about it later. Together."
Yu nodded, clutching the stroller handle tighter as he started walking, Kenji strapped warm and solid against his chest and Taro back in his stroller. Step by step, he reminded himself that Taichi's kiss had been steady, his words sure. He wasn't alone in this. Not anymore.
Yet from the upper glass windows of Arifukua Corporation, another pair of eyes followed them. Isuke Sasaki, suit pristine, expression unreadable, watched the small family disappear down the street. His hand curled into a fist against the glass.
He was waiting.
---
For months after Jezebel Suzuki's disgrace and exile, Isuke Sasaki kept his head down. He showed up to lectures, turned in assignments, lived like a ghost within the bustling halls of A College. No fights, no schemes, no chasing shadows. He told himself it was over. Yu had chosen Taichi, and the fire in him had to die.
But forgetting wasn't the same as healing. Every time he walked past a mirror, every time he let himself remember the brush of Yu's trembling lips against his, that whisper of a shiver in his body, he burned all over again. The line between memory and obsession blurred until he could no longer tell whether Yu's resistance had been truth or lie.
Then came the graveyard on the day of his mother's death.
---
The air smelled faintly of chrysanthemums, and the stone before him still bore fresh offerings. His mother's name carved in gray granite, Mei Sasaki. He was kneeling there when a shadow stretched beside his own. Riku Arifukua.
The man was older now, streaks of silver at his temples, his suit sharp as ever. Yet his eyes held something almost… haunted.
"I should have come sooner…"
Riku admitted, his voice low.
"Your mother… I failed her. I loved her, you know. Not just a fling. She was brilliant. And I—"
His voice caught.
"I couldn't be what she needed. I gave her money. That's all I knew how to give. But it wasn't enough. I'm sorry, my son."
Isuke had frozen. He'd thought himself long past caring who his father was. But now, he had a name, a face, and more than that—an opportunity.
"I don't care about the past…"
Isuke said flatly. His eyes never left the grave.
"What matters is what comes next."
Riku had watched him for a long moment before nodding.
"Then let me give you what I should have given her. Power. A place at my side. What I denied her, I'll make up to you."
Those words settled deep into Isuke's bones. Power. Position. The very things Taichi never valued, never chased. Taichi was fumbling through love and ideals, but Isuke—Isuke would have everything.
That night, staring at his ceiling, Isuke let the truth curdle into resolve. Yu wasn't gone. Yu wasn't lost. Yu was his, had always been his. The way Yu's body had yielded beneath his hands proved it. Tears or no tears, that shudder, that gasp—it was an invitation.
And now, with money and power at his back, there was nothing to stop him from taking Yu back. Not Taichi. Not the world. Not even Yu himself.
'Soon. Very soon.'
Isuke lay sprawled on his bed, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting warm shadows across his earth-brown curls and the sharp blue of his eyes. His heart raced with a dark, intoxicating thrill—the revelation still burned in his mind.
His father was Riku Arifukua, that wealthy, powerful bastard who had everything. And now, finally, Yu would be his. No more barriers, no more distance. The thought alone sent a hot pulse straight to his groin, his cock stirring and swelling against the fabric of his pants.
He reached for his phone on the nightstand, fingers trembling slightly as he unlocked it and scrolled to that hidden folder. There it was—the old photo he'd snapped secretly years ago at the hospital. Yu, a high schooler then, dressed in a soft dress with delicate lace trim hugging his slender frame. The soft light filtered through the window, illuminating his long white hair cascading like silk, his red eyes sparkling with a faint, innocent smile as he held a tray of food.
So pure, so fragile. Isuke's breath hitched. In his mind, that image blurred and merged with the Yu of now—eighteen, grown into something even more breathtaking, his figure all lean curves and alluring grace, those red eyes promising secrets, that white hair begging to be tangled in fists.
His cock bulged painfully now, straining against his zipper. He couldn't hold back. With a groan, Isuke shoved his pants down, freeing his eight-inch length, already throbbing and leaking at the tip.
He gripped it firmly, eyes locked on the phone screen, imagining the older Yu here, kneeling between his legs. Those pale hands wrapping around him, stroking slow and teasing at first, then faster, Yu's red eyes gazing up with submission.
"Mine."
Isuke whispered to the empty room, his hand pumping in rhythmic strokes. The fantasy was vivid—blissful heat coiling in his belly, Yu's soft lips parting in a moan, his body arching under Isuke's claim. Pleasure built sharp and fast; with a violent shiver of delight, he came, ropes of cum spilling over his fist, his hips bucking into the air.
But it wasn't enough. His hand felt crude, empty. The image of Yu burned too brightly, too temptingly real. Panting, Isuke reached into his nightstand drawer, pulling out the pocket ass—soft, silicone warmth molded to perfection. He grabbed the lube, slicking it generously over the toy and his still-hard cock.
Rearranging his pillows into a makeshift body, he propped his phone against the headboard, the photo of Yu staring back at him like an invitation.
He mounted the setup, sliding his cock into the tight, gripping pocket ass with a guttural moan. The sensation was electric—wet, squeezing heat enveloping him as he thrust forward, humping the pillow beneath. In his mind, it was Yu:
That lithe body pinned under him, long white hair fanned out, red eyes wide with need.
"You're mine now."
Isuke growled, rutting harder, the obsession surging like fire in his veins. He imagined claiming him fully—pounding into that perfect ass, Yu's faint smiles turning to cries of ecstasy, his father's wealth paving the way for Isuke to take what was always meant to be his.
The intensity built to a fever pitch, hips slamming wildly, the pocket ass milking him with every slide in and out. Desire consumed him—raw, possessive, all-encompassing. He came again, harder than before, cum flooding the toy in thick pulses, his body convulsing in euphoric bliss.
The world blurred; he nearly passed out, collapsing forward with a shattered gasp, so close to the edge of finally reclaiming Yu that reality and fantasy melted into one intoxicating promise.
---
The days after Taichi's reunion with Riku were nothing short of perfect for Isuke's plans. He watched from a distance, invisible among the streams of suits that poured in and out of Arifukua Corporation, his sharp eyes missing nothing.
Taichi's face told the story:
A young man proud enough to defy his father, yet too bound by necessity to walk away completely.
He returned to his little rented home each night with his shoulders slumped, his eyes heavy, his tie loosened and crooked. A man worn down.
And there Yu was. Always there. Opening the door with a smile no matter how late, the twins already asleep, the smell of warm miso or simmering curry filling the air. Iron-pressed shirts hung ready by morning, his papers neatly stacked and sorted, tiny notes in Yu's handwriting left as reminders.
Isuke hated it. Hated how Yu had built this cocoon of warmth around Taichi, how easily he slid into the role of perfect spouse and perfect parent. That should have been his. Yu should have been waiting for him.
But he wasn't blind. He could see the cracks forming. Taichi was coming home later and later. Yu's smile never wavered, but Isuke had known him for too long not to recognize the shimmer of fear behind it. Fear that one day Taichi might not come back.
That was where he would strike.
Power. Money. Time. All of these were on Isuke's side now. He began his weaving carefully:
Cultivating allies within the company who resented Taichi's sudden appearance
Whispering to ambitious coworkers that Taichi was nothing more than the boss's spoiled son.
And above all, watching Yu, always watching, waiting for the moment when his loneliness would outweigh his devotion.
Soon, Yu would see the truth. That Taichi could never balance the weight of family and ambition. That sooner or later, he would break, and when he did… Isuke would be there.
Because Yu had always been his.
---
Inside Arifukua Corporation, Isuke moved like smoke—never seen, but always present. He smiled politely in meetings, bowed to superiors, and played the diligent junior executive, but beneath that mask he wove whispers sharp as knives.
Among the ambitious staff, he casually mentioned how unfair it was that Taichi, once a notorious delinquent, had been handed a job here without earning it.
"Backdoor entry. I heard he didn't even need to hand in a resume or do an interview. He was just waiting in the loddy and handed the position. There are witnesses too."
He'd say with a sigh, as though he pitied them.
With the veterans, he leaned on nostalgia:
Pointing out Taichi's lack of experience compared to those who had served the company faithfully for years, suggesting in hushed tones that the young man was a liability.
With Riku himself, Isuke played the dutiful son—eager to learn, eager to serve, eager to show that he was the true heir worthy of the name. Each day, he planted seeds of doubt, small but steady, hoping to widen the cracks between father and son.
And all the while, Isuke watched Taichi. He saw the late nights, the overworked body, the way exhaustion carved lines across his face. He knew what overwork did to men—it hollowed them out. Soon, Taichi would falter. And when he did, Yu would be there, waiting, vulnerable.
Isuke's lips curled into a faint smile whenever he imagined it:
Yu alone, frightened, desperate for comfort.
That would be the moment. His moment.
---
At home, Yu hummed softly as he folded laundry, the twins' little clothes hanging like pastel flags of innocence across the room. The apartment smelled of simmering food and freshly clean tatami. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.
Yu tried to pretend the silence was normal. That the hours Taichi spent at work were just a natural part of adulthood, not a wedge slowly pressing against the fragile bubble they had built. He told himself he was fine, that the twins filled the spaces in his heart, that Taichi's tired smile at the door each night was enough.
And yet… he noticed.
The way Taichi's eyes lingered on paperwork even while holding the boys. How his hands, roughened from work, trembled slightly when Yu pressed hot tea into them. The way his—
"I'm fine."
—was always said too quickly, too firmly.
Yu smiled through it all, offering him warm meals, gentle kisses, and whispered encouragement. But deep inside, a tiny fear gnawed at him—what if the world outside was pulling Taichi further and further away?
Still, Yu clung to hope. Hope in their children's laughter. Hope in the quiet domestic rituals that bound them together. Hope in the love that had survived everything so far.
What he didn't know—what he couldn't know—was that the storm gathering at Arifukua Corporation had his name at its center.
The first cracks were almost invisible.
A half-distracted nod instead of a smile. A "thanks" left unsaid when Yu set a steaming bowl of egg drop soup in front of him. Small things, so small that Yu told himself they didn't matter. Taichi was tired, overworked—he understood.
But the rhythm of it changed.
Lunchboxes left untouched, returned home with the careful wraps still tied. Taichi muttered excuses—
"Too busy."
"No time to heat it up."
—before rushing to his desk again.
Text messages unread until hours later, sometimes not answered at all. Yu would stare at the cheerful emojis he sent, feeling their brightness turn hollow when the reply never came.
Evenings stretched thinner, Taichi stumbling through the door later and later, the smell of cigarette smoke and coffee clinging to his suit.
Yu endured it with a smile, reassuring Taichi that he was proud of him, that he was doing amazing, that he was their rock. He tried to believe it himself.
But in the soft cocoon of their home, Yu began to fray.
He kept cooking, even when meals went cold. He kept sewing and crocheting, folding tiny outfits for their twins, even when Taichi was too tired to admire them. He kept whispering—
"Welcome home."
—into the empty air, even when Taichi didn't walk through the door until Yu had drifted off to sleep.
The nights became the hardest. Yu curled himself around the twins, whispering to them that Papa loved them, that he was only working hard for their future. But his voice shook. His heart hurt.
And then it happened.
The evening stretched into midnight, and midnight into dawn. The twins slept in their cribs, soft breaths filling the silence, while Yu sat in bed waiting. Waiting for footsteps, for keys at the door, for a warm voice calling his name.
Instead, his phone lit up with a message from one of Taichi's coworkers.
Coworker: He fell asleep at his desk. Don't worry, we'll look after him.
Yu's hand trembled around the phone. He told himself it was fine. That it wasn't Taichi's fault. That this was just what men did, working themselves to exhaustion for their families.
But when he lay down again, staring at the empty side of the bed, the tears came. Quiet at first, then wracking. He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle the sound, afraid to wake the babies.
The pillow grew damp beneath him, and Yu realized how much it hurt—how much every missed meal, every unanswered text, every empty night had hollowed him out.
For the first time since their new life began, Yu felt truly alone.