In the president's office.
After a full half minute of dead silence, the entire office erupted.
"Pres... President?! I'm not seeing things, am I? That Tanaka went straight from assistant department chief to president of a new subsidiary?"
"How... how many levels did he just skip? Even a rocket isn't this fast!"
"Ken Tanaka? That guy who always seemed a bit clever but whose performance has been mediocre forever?"
"What on earth happened? Did he take a bullet for the president?"
Envy, jealousy, confusion, shock... every kind of emotion spread through the crowd.
Until one well-informed person lowered his voice and dropped an earth-shattering remark.
"I heard... the day before yesterday, Tanaka submitted a report to the president's private mailbox about the 'Shirogane family' bad debt..."
That one sentence cut through the fog in everyone's mind like a bolt of lightning.
The Shirogane family...
That family drowning in debt, with a son unreachable, leaving only a pretty daughter behind...
The report...
The president...
Every fragment came together rapidly in their minds to form a plain, unvarnished truth.
So that was it.
So... it was like that.
The office fell once again into a silence as still as death.
But this time, the look in everyone's eyes had changed.
Ability and performance certainly mattered.
But to keenly sniff out the master's tastes and then cater to them precisely... that was the true currency for a one-step leap to the top.
...
...
The cold marble floor reflected the dazzling radiance of the crystal chandelier on the ceiling.
There was too much light.
So much it stung the eyes.
Kei Shirogane, supported on either side by two women in maid uniforms, walked through this mansion that she had only ever fantasized about in dreams.
Her mind was a blank.
Her body felt like its bones had been drawn out, weightless. Every step she took on the floor felt unreal.
From leaving that small apartment filled with the scent of humiliation, to being stuffed into that luxury car with suffocatingly perfect soundproofing, to now standing here... it all felt like an absurd nightmare.
Her soul seemed to still be lingering in that dim afternoon.
Left behind in the moment when that man had used cold numbers to shatter every shred of her hope and dignity.
What remained was only a shell that could breathe and walk.
"Miss Shirogane, this way please."
The maid's voice was respectful, devoid of any discernible emotion, like a machine running on its programmed routine.
She was led into a bathroom larger than the entire living room of her own home. Warm steam billowed against her face, carrying an elegant, indulgent fragrance she had never smelled before.
The maids said nothing unnecessary, their movements professional and efficient.
They stripped her of the Shuchiin uniform that had grown so disheveled.
She was lowered into the warm bath.
The hot water enveloped her cold body in an instant.
The temperature was just right.
But the warmth could not reach her heart. Her heart had frozen completely hours ago.
The maids washed every inch of her skin with the finest essential oils and body wash.
Their movements were gentle, yet mechanical. As if cleaning an expensive porcelain piece just received in inventory.
There was no desire or pity in their eyes, only absolute professionalism.
Kei did not resist throughout.
She let them handle her like an exquisite doll.
She simply stared with hollow eyes at the overly ornate lamp on the bathroom ceiling. Droplets slid down her cheeks. It was no longer possible to tell whether they were warm bathwater or cold tears.
The washing ended.
She was wrapped in a huge, soft towel that seemed capable of absorbing every drop of moisture, and led to a vanity table.
Another maid began to dry her hair, her movements equally gentle and standardized.
In the mirror, a stranger of a girl was reflected.
Pale cheeks. Lips without a trace of color.
Those eyes, once stubborn, were now like a pool of stagnant water.
How ugly.
She thought to herself, numbly.
On the clothing rack hung a new set of clothes prepared for her.
Not some lavish gown, just a white cotton dress of the simplest cut. The fabric was excellent, soft against the skin, with no other ornamentation.
Pure as a blank sheet of paper.
Also like the burial garments prepared for a sacrifice.
She let the maids slip the dress over her body.
The size was perfect, down to the snugness of the cuffs, as if this garment had been made from its very inception to await her arrival.
"Miss Shirogane, this way please."
Without giving her a moment to catch her breath or to think, the maid's voice came again.
Kei mechanically lifted her legs.
She was led out of the bathroom, through a corridor laid with thick wool carpets, and finally into an extremely spacious living room.
The ceiling of the living room was high, and beyond the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows lay Tokyo's nightscape, dazzling as a river of stars.
And on the leather sofa set in the center of the room sat a person.
A woman.
She wore a plain kendo uniform, her long purple hair carelessly tied back, a few strands falling against her cheeks.
Saeko Busujima.
In her hands, there was no precious jewelry or red wine, only a wooden sword with an antique luster.
She held a piece of pure white cotton cloth, wiping the blade slowly and meticulously.
Her motion was focused and reverent, as though wiping a lover's skin, or performing some sacred rite.
Hearing footsteps, Saeko did not immediately stop what she was doing.
Only after the blade had been wiped spotless did she slowly lift her head.
Those long, sharp eyes turned calmly toward Kei at the doorway.
Their gazes met.
Kei flinched without thinking.
In the other woman's eyes, she saw no pity, no contempt, not even any fluctuation of emotion belonging to a human being.
Only calm.
A condescending calm, the kind that saw through everything.
If Kei had had her spine smashed by reality's hammer, and was at this moment filled with despair and emptiness, then Saeko was someone who had long since offered up body and soul completely, and had thereby attained a transcendent, pure peace.
"You're here."
Saeko spoke flatly.
Her voice was cool, like a blade drawn across ice.
She didn't wait for Kei's response, and seemed not to need one.
After saying those words, she withdrew her gaze, lowered her head again, and continued to wipe the wooden sword in her hands, which had already been wiped spotless.
In this house, apart from that gentleman, everyone else was dust.
Kei stood frozen in place.
An overwhelming shame and helplessness washed over her again like a rising tide.
She had thought that here there would be only that devil.
But that single, unmoved glance had made her grasp an even crueler fact: here, in this lavish cage, she didn't even qualify as "special."
She was just a new pet, one who hadn't yet adjusted to her collar.
...
Second floor. The study.
Dozens of high-definition surveillance screens captured every corner of the mansion.
Seiji Fujiwara sat in his broad executive chair, swirling half a glass of red wine in his hand. The crimson liquid clung to the walls of the glass in suggestive streaks.
His gaze rested on the largest screen at the center.
On the screen was the view of the living room.
On one side, Saeko Busujima knelt on the sofa, like a miko attending a divine blade. On the other, Kei Shirogane stood at the center of the carpet, in a white dress, her expression broken and numb.
One still, one in motion.
One firm, one soft.
One had already submitted completely, savoring the joys of being a "possession." The other was still struggling in the mire of despair, having yet to taste the sweetness of fallenness.
"A perfect composition."
Seiji took a sip of wine, the corner of his mouth curving into an amused arc.
The process of snapping a high mountain flower and pruning its branches and leaves to suit his own tastes was indeed fascinating.
At that moment.
A cold mechanical voice rang out abruptly in his mind.
[Ding!]
[Congratulations, Host, for successfully capturing the key character: Kei Shirogane.]
[Settling rewards...]
[Congratulations, Host, for receiving the exclusive stage-one reward: passive skill, Eye of the Financial Predator.]
[Skill description: In this world built on capital, the numbers never lie. With this skill activated, the host can see through the true financial condition of any individual, company, or conglomerate at a glance. Including but not limited to: hidden debt, the risk of a broken capital chain, money-laundering pathways, and the false prosperity manufactured to mask deficits.]
Seiji raised an eyebrow.
He set down his glass, stood up, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window of the study.
Through the window, he could look out over the entire night view of Tokyo.
Countless lights flickered beneath his feet. Behind each one moved the flow of money, desire, and power.
"Eye of the Financial Predator..."
He repeated quietly.
A flicker of thought.
The world before his eyes transformed in an instant.
The dazzling night view dissolved, in his eyes, into countless flowing streams of data.
That tower in the distance belonging to the "Suzuki Foundation," with a string of brilliant gold figures floating above it, representing extremely healthy cash flow and vast asset reserves.
And farther off, a tower belonging to a seemingly thriving internet upstart, was shrouded in a thin red mist. The crimson debt figures were ghastly to behold. Clearly already at the brink of a blow-up.
"Interesting."
The gold light in Seiji's eyes dispersed.
This ability, though it didn't directly add to his combat power, in this modern metropolis setting was nothing less than a dragon-slaying blade that drew blood without showing it.
If he so wished, he could find the Achilles' heel of any colossus at any time, and stab it in with precision.
Just as he had done to the Shirogane family.
Only this time, his hunting ground would no longer be limited to small ordinary households, but all of... the Tokyo business world.
A buzz.
Just as he was savoring his new ability, a black phone resting at the corner of his desk vibrated suddenly.
It gave off a particularly distinctive, short beep.
Seiji's expression shifted.
It was not an ordinary phone.
It was a specially encrypted satellite phone whose number was known to only a handful of his core people.
He walked back to the desk and picked it up.
On the screen was a single unread message.
Sender: Ai Hayasaka.
His fingertip swept lightly across the screen, opening the message.
The content was very brief, without any unnecessary pleasantries, even carrying a sense of urgency and anxiety:
Mr. Fujiwara. Regarding the "bio-regeneration" research project that the Shinomiya Family has recently been pushing forward, a major "komplikation" has emerged. The matter is urgent. To protect your interests, I must report to you alone. Please... give me a chance. Tonight at midnight, I'll be waiting for you at Ran'en.
Reading the message, Seiji's eyes narrowed slightly.
Komplikation.
German.
It was the word Ai Hayasaka would unconsciously use only when she was under extreme tension or trying to emphasize a sense of professionalism.
It looked, on the surface, as if it really were serious.
Five minutes earlier, he might genuinely have believed it. Believed that some flaw had emerged in the vast commercial empire of the Shinomiya Family.
But now...
"System. Activate 'Eye of the Financial Predator.'"
Seiji murmured silently in his heart.
The next second, in the depths of his pupils, the golden glow surfaced again.
His gaze seemed to pierce through the phone screen, through layer upon layer of intervening space, locking directly onto that vast "Shinomiya conglomerate" perched in the skies of Tokyo.
A torrent of data surged across his vision.
Balance sheets, cash flow, project progress, risk assessments...
Three seconds later.
The gold light in Seiji's eyes faded, but the amused smile at the corner of his mouth grew deeper.
"Heh..."
He chuckled softly.
What "komplikation."
What "major complication."
Under the observation of the Eye of the Financial Predator, that so-called bio-research project, while its progress wasn't lightning-fast, had an extremely stable capital chain. No sign of an imminent blow-up at all.
The so-called "crisis" simply did not exist.
It was a lie.
Seiji sat back in his chair, his fingers tapping a rhythm against the desktop.
He had seen through the little game the blonde maid was playing.
Ai Hayasaka. This girl, trained from childhood to be an all-purpose spy, was clearly unwilling to settle for being a passive "plaything" waiting to be summoned.
She didn't want to become a canary kept in a cage, like Kei Shirogane.
She wanted to demonstrate her value.
She wanted to prove that she was not merely an accessory to Kaguya Shinomiya, but an "intelligence source" and "operator" who could bring him, Seiji Fujiwara, real, tangible benefits.
So Ai Hayasaka was trying to fabricate a fake "crisis" and then personally "solve" or "expose" that crisis, in order to claim merit before him.
She might even, in the process, hope to trade some chips out of him. Something like... letting Kaguya Shinomiya pass through this inevitable, vicious arena with a little more dignity.
"You want to climb back up from 'plaything' to 'pawn'?"
Seiji turned the phone over in his hand, murmuring to himself.
"A pointless struggle."
"But..."
In his mind surfaced Ai Hayasaka's pretty face, always wearing its mask of indifference but in truth seething with internal drama, and the image of her biting her lip nervously as she sent that message.
"Since you want to put on a play, I'll play along with you."
Let her perform with everything she had, let her believe she truly held the initiative, and then at the last moment, ruthlessly tear off her mask. Watch her tumble down from the clouds, watch the expression of terror, of shame, of forced submission rise on her face...
That was the highest tier of enjoyment.
Wasn't it?
Seiji picked up the phone, his fingers tapping the screen rapidly.
He didn't ask for details. He didn't question the truth of any of it.
He simply replied with a single character.
Concise. Domineering. Like an emperor handing down a favor to his lowly subjects.
Granted.