Chapter 63: Chapter 22

Seijirou sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress still warm from the recent activity.

His fingers, large and gentle, brushed the damp strands of hair from Suzune’s face as she slept soundly, completely naked and utterly exhausted.

The gentle rise and fall of her chest was the only sign of her deep, post-climax slumber.

He smiled, a fleeting, tender expression that quickly faded into a mask of composure, as he reached for the thick, downy quilt.

He carefully drew it up over her slender body, tucking it beneath her chin to make sure she didn’t feel the chill of the air conditioning.

Once done, he stood up, the silence of the room amplifying the soft rustle of his movements.

He quickly and efficiently, put on his clothes, just a simple shorts and a white plain t-shirt which he had discarded hours ago.

He ran a hand over his hair, checking his appearance in the faint moonlight filtering through the window, before walking out of the room, closing the door with an almost imperceptible click.

He walked down the short, carpeted hallway with an unnervingly quiet ease, his footsteps making no sound.

He paused before a door that was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out from under it.

He raised his hand and knocked, the sound surprisingly loud in the late-night silence.

Aiko’s voice, stern, clear, and serious as always, called out from the other side, "Come in."

It wasn’t an invitation; it was a command. As if she knew he was there and ordering him to enter.

Seijirou opened the door fully and walked inside. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp on the bedside table.

There, Aiko was only wearing a white terry-cloth bathrobe, the belt tied firmly around her slim waist.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, immersed in a large, leather-bound book, with the light casting a severe shadow across her sharp features.

Seeing him enter, Aiko’s intense concentration broke instantly. She stared at, before closing the book with a soft snap, placed it meticulously on the shelf beside her bed, and stood up, walking deliberately towards him.

She was noticeably shorter than Seijirou, her head only reaching his shoulder, but her deep blue eyes held an unwavering intensity that made her presence seem larger, more formidable than her physical stature suggested.

She stopped barely a foot away from him as she opened her mouth, her voice low and dangerous, almost threatening. "You broke your promise, Seijirou."

Seijirou lowered his head slightly, a rare practiced expression of humility settling on his face.

"I apologize, Aiko." He said, his voice was a smooth, low murmur, but it carried a hint of insincerity that did not escape her notice.

Aiko shook her head once, sharply, her gaze unflinching. "Apologies are meaningless now. You know what you swore to me. I trusted you."

Her tone was heavy with a feeling of betrayal that went deeper than just the immediate act.

In truth, Seijirou and Aiko had actually known each other far longer than even Seijirou have known Suzune.

Everything had started during his third year of middle school, a time when he was already far more worldly and cynical than his peers, and the time when Aiko’s life had utterly collapsed.

Her husband, a man she had been married to for over a decade, passed away suddenly, and to make matters worse, she soon discovered the devastating truth: he had maintained a long-term mistress, and, in a final act of betrayal, had left his entire estate and worldy possessions to her.

All Aiko ever inherited was this house, which was heavily mortgaged, and a mid-sized clothing company teetering precariously on the verge of bankruptcy.

Devastated, directionless, and consumed by a cold, searing rage she had never known, Aiko had wandered into a notoriously shady club, a place far removed from her structured, upper-middle-class life.

It was there, in the dim, smoky corner of the bar, where she met Seijirou.

Seijirou, seeing her sophisticated beauty marred by that raw, melancholic look of loss and confusion, was immediately captivated.

She was a challenge, a sophisticated older woman whose despair was an intoxicating lure.

Seijirou, with the practiced charm belonging to someone far experienced, spent the entire night focused solely on her, systematically tearing down her emotional defenses with smooth talk and shared drinks, and eventually taking her down to his bed in a rented flat nearby.

And that was how their tumultuous, secret relationship started, born from a confluence of grief, rage, and calculated opportunism.

By the next day, when Aiko had sobered completely, the harsh light of morning brought a brutal realization of what she had done.

The shame and regret were overwhelming.

But Seijirou was ready, and under his convincing and deceptively smooth words, he meticulously gaslighted Aiko, weaving a narrative that assured her she had done nothing wrong.

"It was fate," he would whisper to her ears, or "You were simply taking what you deserved." He had completely reframed her breakdown as a necessary liberation.

And it worked.

That day, for the second time, Seijirou once again completely enjoyed her body, pushing past her remaining reluctance with a relentless, skilled persistence.

Aiko, though resisting at first, soon found herself surrendering to the passionate oblivion he offered.

They stayed in bed for hours, talking about everything and nothing—her failed marriage, her lack of direction, the failing company she had inherited.

It was during this intimate, post-coital conversation that Aiko made a horrifying realization: Seijirou was the same age as her daughter, Suzune, and even went to the same middle school.

The shock was immense, to say the least. She was appalled, she was disgusted, she was ashamed of herself!

But the shame and disgust she felt was quickly replaced by a desperate, maternal instinct.

At that time, she had begged Seijirou for a different kind of help.

Back then, Suzune was suffering profoundly from depression, crippled by her father’s death and the public shame of his betrayal.

She was barely speaking and eating, she couldn’t even go out without feeling sick. And if Aiko didn’t cry and begged her to continue her studies, Suzune would’ve drown in depression and refused to leave her room.

Aiko desperately wanted Seijirou, with his sharp intelligence and inexplicable charisma, to help her daughter navigate her grief, to pull her back from the brink and return her to her normal, bright self.

In exchange for his help with Suzune, Aiko offered to continue their secret, passionate relationship.

But the agreement came with a solitary, ironclad condition, a line in the sand she swore he must never cross: he was never, under any circumstance, to touch her daughter.

Seijirou had sworn back then, his hand over his heart, his eyes conveying a sincerity that was utterly false and something Aiko didn’t notice.

She was convinced that Seijirou could trust to keep his promise.

And, he was kind of right. The Kageyama Seijirou in the game has never once touched Suzune, even when she was throwing herself at him.

The one who broke that promise was him.

But Aiko didn’t know any of that.

So now, standing before Aiko in her quiet bedroom, the air between them was thick with tension, her eyes narrowed in anger and betrayal as she knew what they had done, breaking the solemn vow that had been the foundation of their entire arrangement.

Back in the guest room, the quilt was still tucked neatly under Suzune’s chin, the scent of their transgression lingering faintly on Seijirou’s skin, a silent testament to the lie.

"You..." Aiko opened her mouth to say something, but eventually just closed it and let out a disappointed sigh.

She couldn’t really blame Seijirou. After all, she had sort of given Suzune permission to be intimate with Seijirou.

"...our agreement ends here." She let out, her voice hurt and tired, "Please, take care of Suzune. And don’t tell her anything about us."

Seijirou took a deep breath, before grabbing her hand, "What about you?"

"What about me?" Aiko tried to pry off his hand, but couldn’t, so she simply gave up, letting him hold her hands. "You want to have both mother and daughter? Seijirou, you are one greedy man."

"Yeah." Seijirou whispered, lifting her chin, "Yeah I am. You’ve known me for over a year already, you should know I’m not a good man. I am incredibly greedy and possessive."

Aiko sighed, before closing her eyes. Well, there is nothing she can do here.

The broken company she inherited from her husband had grown to be a national clothing brand not only because of her, but also because she was supported by Seijirou’s parents.

What if she refused him and they decided to shut down her company? How would she support her and her daughter?

So for the sake of their lives...she can only, sacrifice herself.

"Don’t tell Suzune," she whispered.

"She won’t know." Seijirou lowered his face, capturing her luscious lips.

Unknown to the two of them, outside the room, leaning back on the door, Suzune stood, her eyes widened, her hands covering her mouth.