Kasumigaoka Utaha's mind stuttered, crashed, rebooted into incomprehension.
The bus. The pervert. He stopped him. He was—
And now—
The towering image she'd constructed crumbled in an instant, leaving only rubble and confusion.
Why? How can someone be both?
The disconnect was too vast. Too extreme. Her worldview, carefully built over sixteen years, fractured along unexpected fault lines. The only explanation that fit: mental illness. Profound instability. A personality split between savior and predator.
In those few seconds of cognitive freefall, something else rose to fill the void.
Pleasure.
Insidious. Inexorable. It climbed through her like ivy through abandoned walls, claiming territory her scattered thoughts couldn't defend. Her vision blurred. Her resistance softened.
"No..." The word emerged without conviction. "This isn't... shouldn't be..."
Tears traced hot paths down her cheeks. Something inside her—something precious—was being demolished, brick by brick.
His voice came warm against her ear, intimate as a lover's. "Quiet now. You wouldn't want the neighbors to see you like this, would you?" A pause, then softer still: "Besides—haven't you noticed? Your body already surrendered. If it could speak, it would welcome me."
She hated that he was right. Hated the traitorous responses she couldn't control. But the last ember of awareness flickered, refused to die.
"Even if... you take... my body... you'll never... have my heart."
He laughed—genuine, surprised, delighted.
Kasumigaoka Utaha. A skinned NPC. And she gives me lines like this?
The character mismatch was jarring. But since the game had scripted it, he'd play along.
"Your heart?" Amusement colored his voice. "What would I do with that? Sell it? How much per kilo?" His hands continued their work, unhurried, thorough. "No—it's this body that interests me. This lowly, responsive, honest body."
"Please... don't... I'll do anything—"
Tears flowed freely now. Betrayal, shame, desire—all tangled together in her throat.
He had no intention of gentleness.
This chapter is called 'Tailing.' Maybe there's a normal route. Maybe you could date her properly, earn her trust, win her heart.
But this is eroge. Pure love routes insult the genre.
This—this—was satisfaction. Holding a target's fate in both hands, watching every layer of pretense peel away until nothing remained but truth.
In eroge, even a girl mopping the floor was fair game. His approach was practically gentle.
He pressed closer, lips brushing her ear, body flush against hers. "Begging won't help. Blame this body—this body that likes being watched. That preens under male attention. That admires itself in mirrors, tracing curves, knowing exactly what it does to people."
Each word was a scalpel.
"Today, I'm going to strip away every mask. Every performance. Until you face what you really are."
[Human Cannon — ACTIVATED]
Truth, it turned out, lived within cannon range.
Kasumigaoka Utaha was demolished—fortifications shattered, weapons dropped, surrender complete.
The world shook. Or perhaps that was her. An earthquake contained in skin and bone and nerve endings.
She watched him through blurred vision—his face shifting between predator and devotee, expressions she couldn't name chasing across his features. He did things she didn't understand, things that made her body sing even as her heart mourned.
It feels... so good.
Her thoughts dissolved. Primordial sensation flooded the space where reason once lived. She became only sensation, only response, only now.
A notification flickered at the edge of Akira's vision:
[Spirit +2]
Nothing else? No double attributes?
Then his alarm sang its predetermined song.
He leaned down—a kiss, deep and thorough—then rose, satisfied, and walked out without a backward glance.
Three hours. Most of it spent on tailing and setup. But that performance...
Kasumigaoka Utaha's face, suspended between dream-loss and drowning pleasure, would make an excellent teaching aid. If he ever needed to explain the architecture of surrender.
She didn't see him leave. Didn't move as the door closed. Didn't open her eyes until unconsciousness claimed her, right there on the entryway floor.
Back in the selection interface, Akira checked her progress bar:
[Kasumigaoka Utaha: 50%]
Halfway in one session. Not bad.
He reached to select her again—max her out, finish what he'd started—and found the option greyed out.
Unavailable?
Rest period? Does the NPC need recovery time after... that?
The logic was sound. Even digital bodies had limits.
He scanned the other options. Kirigaya Suguha glowed, available. Busujima Saeko, available. Suou Yuki remained locked behind her fortress walls.
He could choose 'Free Mode'—wander, explore, see what developed. But with Kasumigaoka's momentum, Suou Yuki's inaccessibility, and only four chances per night...
Kirigaya Suguha it is.
He selected her branch without hesitation.
Compared to the locked options, Kirigaya Suguha glowed with availability. The choice was obvious.
He selected her branch.
The world dissolved and reformed.
A water park.
Akira blinked, recalibrating. Moments ago, he'd left Kasumigaoka Utaha's house under cover of darkness. Now—
Sunlight. Splashing children. The distant shriek of water slides.
Time jump. Or parallel space. This is eroge logic.
He glanced at the sky. Hours earlier than his last exit. Possibly a different timeline entirely.
The realism is so immersive I keep forgetting this isn't reality.
He reminded himself firmly: Game. This is game.
Around him, passersby enjoyed their leisure. Some were quite... notable. A girl shaking water from her ears bounced in ways that demanded attention.
Duang. Duang. Duang.
Invigorating.
But tailing, he reminded himself. The chapter is called Tailing. Follow her home.
Unless the plan was to exhaust her at the water park first?
His gaze found Kirigaya Suguha in the crowd. Conservative swimsuit—the classic school-issue sukumizu, utterly incongruous among the bikinis and board shorts. She stood out like a librarian at a rave.
And why is she here? Nationals are approaching. She barely has time to practice, let alone—
He stopped himself.
Eroge. Don't overthink.
He visited the game's shop, purchased swim trunks, and equipped them instantly. His clothes vanished into temporary storage. He grabbed a child's forgotten goggles from a bench—perfect for blending in—and began his approach.
Kirigaya Suguha felt it immediately.
Eyes. On me.
Her intuition, honed through years of competitive kendo, rarely misfired. Someone was watching. Not casually—intently.
She scanned the crowd. Nothing obvious. But the sensation persisted.
After meeting her companions, she excused herself. "Bathroom break."
Instead, she angled toward a quieter section of the park—secluded, less trafficked. If someone followed, she'd catch them. If they didn't, the misdirection would buy her time to think.
But why me?
She reviewed her appearance. Conservative suit. No skin showing beyond the absolute minimum. Nothing like the bikinis everywhere around her.
Unless...
A horrible possibility dawned.
Sukumizu. School swimsuit. Some people have... preferences.
Her face heated.
A pervert. A sukumizu pervert. Is that what's after me?
She positioned herself strategically, ready for confrontation.
Akira noticed the shift.
She'd peeled away from the crowd, heading for isolation. Smart—she'd sensed him. Now she was setting a trap, waiting to see who emerged from the shadows.
If I follow now, she'll catch me red-handed.
But if I don't follow, I lose her.
He weighed the options for two heartbeats.
Little Nao's nothing to fear.
He moved.