When it came to the maid outfit, Akira's only instruction to Hayasaka Ai was: "Just make it look good—don't make it too revealing."
After that, he gave her full financial freedom.
And judging by Nanami's current appearance, he immediately realized Hayasaka Ai definitely hadn't skimped on the budget—she probably hired professionals for a custom design.
The way the tailoring accentuated the length and elegance of the figure, combined with just the right amount of detailed decoration without being overdone, was enough to showcase the designer's craftsmanship.
Whether it was the black neck corset that made the neck look longer, the white silk gloves reaching past the elbows, or the over-the-knee stockings with garter clips—it all hit Akira's preferences dead on.
The pleasing aesthetic of the maid uniform, paired with Nanami's noble and composed aura—seemingly enhanced by psychological suggestion—and the earnest gaze she gave him, as if ready to carry out any command sincerely...
Akira leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, interlaced his fingers, and tried to look composed as he studied her.
Internally, though, he cursed.
Damn it. Even after being spoiled for choice in the past year, I'm still reacting to nothing more than a visual stimulus...
Hayasaka Ai really gets it. Having her in charge of training was the right call.
With light, graceful steps, Nanami approached the sofa.
She clasped her hands in front of her abdomen and gave a flawless bow, her voice calm and different from usual as she said, "Ogiwara-san."
Akira took a deep breath.
"How did you greet that young lady from the Shinomiya family?" he pointed to the adjacent sofa.
"Pretend she's sitting there."
Nanami turned around, faced the empty sofa, and stared at it for a few seconds. Her expression gradually shifted.
Then, with a smaller bow and only a slight nod of her head, she spoke in a noticeably colder tone, "Miss Shinomiya."
Tsk.
That aura of lofty, untouchable nobility in front of others—yet with the sense that she was completely obedient to him…
Just when Akira thought he could sit up properly again, this knocked him flat once more.
It felt amazing, sure—but it was definitely overkill. Not entirely unusable, but not always appropriate depending on the situation.
After a moment of silence, he said, "If Miss Shinomiya were a complete stranger, that'd be fine.
But she's Hayasaka's master and currently my guest, so we can consider her an acquaintance.
Your tone and expression can be a little more relaxed, a little friendlier."
Nanami stood there and thought it over quietly. Then she gave the same bow and greeting again, but this time her voice was less cold and her attitude clearly softer.
"Yes, that's just right," Akira nodded. "And it's not like you can't smile. Since she's technically an acquaintance, smiling and chatting are totally fine."
Nanami's lips twitched slightly. Though she didn't show much of an expression, she looked a little hesitant.
Akira stroked his chin and tried a different approach.
"I'm not talking about a formal, polite smile. I mean… a warm, friendly one.
Even if she's the young lady of the Shinomiya family, here in this house, she's just a girl with a notable background.
A high school girl who gets embarrassed when Hayasaka teases her, who whines to Hayasaka, who gets troubled by love, who hesitates when she's shy."
Nanami tilted her head slightly in thought.
She had actually witnessed Kaguya getting teased by Hayasaka Ai during her apology visit earlier that day.
And since the other party had been kind and approachable, it had helped dismantle Nanami's cold initial impression of her.
Hearing Akira say this, even if she hadn't seen it firsthand, her first instinct was to believe it.
She trusted Akira deeply. And in Hayasaka Ai's training, right after the importance of status and appearances came the maid's attitude toward her master.
"You are a maid, not a cook, not a cleaner, not a handyman. Understand the difference between these roles."
"As a maid—especially a personal maid, or head maid—what does that mean? To exaggerate a little, think of it as being a loyal dog."
"Trust your master. Obey your master. Never leak any of your master's secrets. Serve with your whole heart and soul.
Follow every command, meet every need, and go above and beyond to solve problems for them—proactively and thoughtfully."
Nanami had taken this to heart—and now she'd received a direct order. So when she looked back at that empty sofa again, a small smile naturally appeared on her lips.
So that's all she is, huh… just another girl, really…
"Yes, exactly like that," Akira clapped his hands in satisfaction.
"Likewise, that diplomat from the UK, Mr. Spencer, who comes from a real noble family, is a cheerful middle-aged man.
His wife is a kind and humorous woman. The young heir of the Asai family—another one of the Big Four—pretends to be a gentleman but is actually full of sly little schemes.
And the Shinomiya family patriarch is a controlling and gloomy middle-aged man."
That was Akira's solution: if Nanami couldn't elevate herself, then he'd bring everyone else's status down.
It had always been his approach—he judged people by who they were, not by their titles. No matter who he was dealing with, he never felt anyone should be above him.
Even with someone like Ichihara Yuuko, it was still just a respectful friendship—granted, with the practical acknowledgment that he couldn't outdrink or outfight her.
That said, he never saw anyone as beneath him either.
But since money, fame, and power were objective facts, he wasn't about to devalue himself on purpose either.
Seeing Nanami deep in thought, Akira added an explanation:
"If the person is admirable or lovable, then we treat them with the respect and warmth they deserve. That's just basic human decency—I don't need to explain that."
"But if they're unpleasant or suspicious, then we return that with the same coldness and wariness.
At most, we maintain a minimal layer of politeness if there hasn't been a direct conflict yet."
"That's my attitude toward people. That's our attitude. Got it?"
Nanami nodded quietly to show she understood.
"So relax—not by forcing yourself to 'be less nervous,' but by realizing there's no need to be nervous.
Status doesn't matter—what matters is the kind of person they are. That's what should determine how you treat them."
As he said this, Akira casually opened his arms. "Give me your hand."
Without hesitation, Nanami stepped forward and placed her gloved hand—wrapped in white silk—into his.
Akira looked into her eyes.
Aside from the two times he had carried her to bed when she was sick, there hadn't been much physical contact between them.
Logically, this kind of request should've made her flustered or embarrassed.
But now, her eyes only held a hint of confusion—like she was wondering, "What next?"—as if she didn't find anything wrong with this at all.
All he could think was: she's so obedient.
He let go of her hand, sighed, and wondered why he kept asking for trouble.
Even after a night of joy just yesterday, this kind of situation was still impossible to resist…
Looks like he'd have to go to that kind of place again soon—to take care of some pressure relief work.
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