Kagura had etched Hayasaka Ai's birthday into his memory but overlooked that the day before was April Fool's, while Hayasaka, in her nervous bid to mask her confession with a lie, forgot her birthday followed the prank-filled day.
Seeing the surprise in her eyes, Kagura mused inwardly: This twist of fate feels like O. Henry's Gift of the Magi.
Hayasaka peeled off her face mask, wiped her cheeks, and, suppressing tears, opened the box Kagura presented.
Nestled inside was an exquisite necklace of white crystal interwoven with gold—delicate yet dazzling, perfectly to her taste.
It was the very design she'd once posted about wanting on her LINE Moments, meaning Kagura hadn't just picked something at random. He'd paid attention, studied her desires, and chosen with care.
This young master… surprisingly capable!
Yet, she maintained her facade, snapping the box shut with a feigned scowl, murmuring, "Young Master Kagura, there's no need to gift a maid such lavish jewelry. I have my own salary and can buy my own. Save such gifts for the woman you love."
"Tch," Kagura teased, tugging lightly at her lips. "Your mouth's practically soaring to the heavens—hardly convincing! And don't you know who I love?"
"Hmph, how would I know? I don't live in your heart," Hayasaka retorted, secretly delighted, swatting his hand away. Turning her back, she grinned, reopening the box. "Well… for a former virgin, you're barely passable."
She handed the box to him, saying, "Hold this."
"Oh… wait, you don't want it?"
Kagura's heart sank.
"Idiot—" Hayasaka gathered her long hair, baring her alabaster nape, glancing back. "I just praised you, and you fumble already? So clueless. I meant for you to put it on me."
"Ahem…"
Kagura lifted the necklace, tossing the box onto her bed, carefully undoing the clasp. He slipped it around her neck, fastening it from behind.
Hayasaka spun gracefully to face him, her right hand grazing her chest as she blinked. "Does it suit me?"
"Perfectly."
Kagura gave a satisfied thumbs-up.
"…" A flicker of joy lit Hayasaka's face. She cupped her cheeks, then regained her composure, placing her hands near her abdomen and bowing deeply. "Thank you for remembering my birthday and preparing a gift. I, Hayasaka Ai, swear to follow you faithfully for life, until my final breath."
Had she been in her maid dress, she'd have curtsied, but a bow felt fitting now.
"Even at life's end, I won't let you go," Kagura said, eyes misty, ruffling her hair. "In the next life, and the one after, forever and always."
"…"
She said nothing, only nodding faintly.
Before Kagura could add more, an unbearably shy Hayasaka hurriedly pushed him out, pointing to the bed. "Master Kagura, it's past bedtime. Good night!"
With a slam, she shut the door.
"Hahaha…"
Kagura, stunned, burst into hearty laughter. Meanwhile, Hayasaka leaned against her door, hands clutching her chest, face flushed, listening to her heart's relentless thump-thump-thump.
Done for, done for, done for… Hayasaka Ai, you're completely smitten with Young Master Kagura! You lovesick fool!
Scolding herself, she dove onto her bed, rolling side to side with her pillow. So embarrassing, mortifying, I wanna die…!
As for Kagura, his desires sated, he lay in bed, basking in the natural, blissful exhaustion of intimacy with his beloved, soon drifting into deep sleep.
He expected to be roused, as usual, by Hayasaka's slit, but today it was a morning blowjob. After finishing, he asked, puzzled, "What's up? On your period?"
"No…" Hayasaka swallowed his load, tugging awkwardly at her uniform skirt, muttering, "It's your fault, you rutting dog, shooting so much yesterday. I cleaned thoroughly, but there's still some left… Well, you could lick if you want, but—you might taste yourself."
"…Pass."
Kagura adored Hayasaka but couldn't stomach tasting his own seed.
Hayasaka, with an "I knew it" smirk, shrugged. "Since you've finished, please rise, bathe, and dress."
Soon, Kagura was ready, ate breakfast, and joined Eriri and Sora in the car to school.
In a fleeting moment, he mistook Eriri for the cosplaying Hayasaka from last night, instinctively grasping her slender thigh at the divide between her thigh-high socks and skin.
Eriri froze, then snapped, "Huh?" glaring at him, her expression screaming: What's wrong with you, idiot brother, groping my leg?
"Uh… what am I doing?"
Kagura, dazed, gave her thigh a couple of squeezes, locking eyes with her.
Slap! Eriri's hand cracked across his face, blushing as she shoved his hand away, stammering, "Y-y-you, openly groping your sister in the car?! Are you insane? Stupid? Go die, moron!"
"…"
Kagura rubbed his stinging cheek, rolling his eyes.
Habits and muscle memory were deadly. He'd need to be careful—Hayasaka's cosplay sister wasn't his real sister. A brother couldn't lust after his sibling… No way.
Catching Sora's glance, their eyes met briefly before she huffed, turning to the window. "Don't look at me. Not my problem~ No touching my legs either."
Sure, I won't touch… but you could order me to, or force me to, Young Master Kagura.
"…I didn't even say anything."
Kagura shrugged, nursing his cheek.
"Greetings, Master Kagura, a new bounty—"
"Piss off, skip it."
Fresh from his sister's slap, Kagura was livid—especially since he'd earned it. A wasted hit.
"You've skipped and received [A Girl's Little Secret]."
A Girl's Little Secret—he recalled this item, which revealed a girl's lifetime masturbation count. Yesterday, Eriri's was 3,921. Good grief, my sister's such a lustful fiend.
As a repeat item, the system wasted no words, returning his consciousness to reality.
Kagura stroked his chin, eyeing Sora, then Eriri, and the driver, Miss Nao.
Who to use it on?
Eriri was done yesterday. Sora today?
But he reconsidered, saving it for his mission: approaching Yukino. She was his top marriage target.
Using it on Yukino would be intriguing—an icy, untouchable beauty like her surely indulged in secret. He was eager to see her count.
At school, he parted with Eriri and Sora, heading to Class F. He'd been in Yukino's class for a year but exchanged fewer than ten words, his eyes then fixed solely on Hayasaka.
"Morning, Sawamura-kun."
A girl with a cute bob haircut turned to greet him from the seat ahead.
Her name… despite introductions yesterday, he blanked. Was it Megumi Hayashi, Fujiwara, or Kaga? Argh, forgotten!
Japanese surnames were a headache.
She wore the same black-white-gray plaid skirt uniform as Hayasaka, with knee-high socks and standard JK loafers. Her hips were subtly curved, her figure not voluptuous but shapelier than Hayasaka's, with porcelain skin distinct from Hayasaka's Western-tinged pallor—comfortably pale. Her face was cute but oddly forgettable, slipping from memory the moment you looked away.
"Oh… morning."
Unsure of her surname, he avoided her name.
She didn't mind, nodding with a smile before turning back.
As he pondered her name, the boy behind him tossed down his bag and sat. Kagura turned, flashing a friendly, "Morning!"
"Oh… huh?" The boy glanced around, confirming Kagura meant him, then grinned awkwardly. "Good morning…?"
Damn, this guy's as chummy as an American. Made me slip into English. Wait, his dad's British, right?
"Hahaha, good morning!"
Kagura replied in flawless London-accented English.
Thankfully, his father spoke English. Despite being British, the man used only Japanese at home, leaving Eriri—half-British—speaking English worse than Kagura's precision shots into Hayasaka's slit. Her grades teetered on failing, shocking her teachers.
This guy was amusing—using English, worried Kagura couldn't handle Japanese? Who lives in Japan for over a decade and doesn't get the language?
"Hey, I'm Sawamura-Spencer-Kagura," Kagura said, offering a handshake. "Nice to meet you."
A handshake wasn't typical Japanese greeting, but it was universal enough.
The boy shook his hand, scratching his head. "Oh… I know your name. I'm Hikki Hachiman. Nice to meet you."
Kagura was a celebrity at school.
Beyond school, he was renowned in Chiba, Japan, and beyond. Setting aside his prestigious lineage, at fifteen, he won first place in the Chopin Piano Competition, skyrocketing to fame in Japan and gaining global recognition.
In the following two years, he composed Dreams of the Galaxy, The Irish Lover, Summer, and Maid's Skirt, celebrated worldwide. Maid's Skirt was even designated a mandatory piece for Japan's advanced piano exams.
On that note, it mortified Hayasaka. She made anonymous calls to the piano association, protesting its inclusion (to no avail), as Maid's Skirt, Summer, and The Irish Lover were inspired by her climaxes in various scenarios—tantamount to public shaming in her eyes.
"I was in Class J all of first year, didn't know anyone from other classes. Wanna swap contacts?"
Kagura flashed his latest smartphone, waving it at Hikki.
"Oh…" Hikki handed over his phone. "Enter it yourself."
"Man, you just hand your phone to anyone?"
"Nothing shady to hide."
Hikki shrugged, unfazed.
"Nice, real chill."
Kagura swiftly entered his email, phone, and LINE ID, then unlocked his own phone for Hikki. As Hikki typed, he asked, "Class J's the international program, right? I thought it didn't split classes. Why're you in F, Sawamura?"
He returned the phone.
"Uh…"
Kagura tilted his head, eyes drifting upward, recalling his transfer.
"Too many girls in J—over ninety percent. Always hitting on me. Annoying." He shrugged, elaborating.
"…"
Hikki's face screamed, You popular jerk, go die, his mouth twitching.
That was indeed why Kagura switched. Yukino was among the rare few who never approached him, alongside Eriri, Sora, and Hayasaka.
Hence, Yukino was his first target.
"Oh, don't call me 'Sawamura.' I prefer 'Kagura.' Just Kagura from now on."
Kagura clapped Hikki's shoulder, grinning.
"Ahem… alright, Kagura."
Hikki coughed, nodding solemnly.
"Why so serious…? Fine, I'll call you Hachiman then~"
"Whoa, whoa!!"
Hikki nodded excitedly, for reasons Kagura couldn't fathom. Turning to tap the girl's shoulder for her contact, the homeroom teacher entered, so he pocketed his phone.
Teacher Kirisu Mafuyu, with peach-pink dyed hair, wore a deep purple business suit. Her legs, clad in sheer black stockings, stood close together, calves slightly apart, her wine-red heels subtly splayed in a poised stance.
She scanned the class sternly. "Good. Let's take attendance."
Kagura listened, matching names to faces from yesterday's introductions. First was Ebina Hina, a rare glasses-wearing girl near the front-left window, her grayish hair lending a mysterious air.
Then Hayama Hayato, a blond heartthrob by the window, though further back. Kagura felt he rivaled Hayama's looks, bolstered by his musical fame.
To Hayama's right was Miura Yumiko, with wavy golden hair, a queenly aura, striking beauty, and eye-catching legs. Others included Tobe Shota and Ooka.
When "Kato Megumi" was called, the girl in front softly answered, "Here!"
Oh, Kato Megumi. Not Hayashi or Fujiwara. Embarrassing. Good thing he hadn't blurted the wrong name.
He memorized Kato Megumi as class began.
By noon, yesterday's exertion left him drowsy. He summoned the system: "System, check-in."
"Check-in successful."
Instantly, he felt invigorated, ready for five hundred more rounds with Hayasaka.
Classes dragged until 3:50 p.m., when the dismissal bell rang.
Japanese schools started late and ended early, tied to geography. In Chiba, near the winter solstice, darkness fell by 4 p.m. In summer, dawn broke at 4 a.m.—disorienting for the unaccustomed.
Kato Megumi left before he could swap contacts. Kagura leisurely packed his bag, slung it over his shoulder, said "Good work" to Hachiman, and exited via the back door.
Like yesterday, he climbed the creaky, dilapidated stairs of the old school building to the fifth floor, reaching the last classroom.
Before knocking, he wondered: Will it be Mai-senpai or Yukino today?
He hoped for Yukino. In their shared year in Class J, she alone gave him a "this girl's different" vibe. Mai-senpai, however, seemed like a chronic chuunibyou case—best avoided for now.
Knock, knock. He rapped firmly.
One second, two—no response…
He knocked again. Still nothing.
Annoyed, he thought, Am I doomed to strike out two days in a row? Is Yukino outsmarting Zhuge Liang, making me beg thrice?
Frustrated, he pushed the door open.
The old building's locks were broken or keyless, doors yielding with a shove.
A girl read in the slanting sunset light.
The scene was picturesque, evoking an illusion that even at the world's end, she'd remain, engrossed in her book.
But it was just that—an illusion!
Kagura clung to Hayasaka's maxim: Every girl succumbs to the pleasure of her "kuri."
"Kuri" meant "chestnut" but doubled as slang for "clitoris" in Japanese. Hayasaka's point: all girls masturbate, captivated by clitoral bliss. And Kagura held [A Girl's Little Secret], a tool to reveal a girl's lifetime masturbation count—likely more than they'd admit.
"…?" Hearing the door, Yukino looked up reluctantly, pausing before frowning and scanning him coldly. "Sawamura-kun, do you have a habit of barging into rooms without knocking?"
Having been classmates, she knew his name.
But he had knocked! She just didn't hear.
Fixating on her, Kagura thought: Yukino Yukino, A Girl's Little Secret.
He'd strip away her saintly facade, exposing the lascivious essence beneath her icy, pristine exterior.
Instantly, a pink heart—visible only to him—sprang above her forehead, with a number to its right: 0.
Yes, 0.
Yukino Yukino, from birth to now, had never masturbated.
Kagura was floored, doubting his eyes, staring at the number.
No matter how he looked, 0 stayed 0—not 1, not 1000, nothing else.
Damn, is this woman's willpower that strong?!
Making a guy abstain might require castration (though even then, prostate play could work?). Hayasaka's maxim needed revising—Yukino hadn't surrendered to self-pleasure.
Soon, the heart and 0 vanished; the item was single-use.
"Don't just stand there. Sit."
Seeing him dazed, Yukino gestured to the sofa across from her.
Kagura nodded, surveying the abandoned classroom.
To the left, a knee-high rectangular cardboard box brimmed with footballs, rattles, and jump ropes. To the right, two stacked old desks, worn but intact, served as a makeshift shelf, cluttered with useless items, including an antique gramophone of questionable functionality.
Further in, a narrow path led to a luxurious purple sofa—material unknown, but soft—where Yukino sat, like a noble maiden awaiting a poet in an afternoon salon.
Opposite was a less pristine sofa, with a long wooden coffee table between, suitable for tea. To the right, an aged oak desk, and beyond, a wall-mounted bookshelf crammed with literary classics from various countries.
At the room's rear, a pile of miscellany framed a large, bronze-edged mirror, conspicuous from any angle.
Kagura sat on the opposite sofa, which creaked under his weight.
"…" Yukino closed her black-cat-covered paperback, placing it on her knee-length skirt, smoothing her hair behind her ear, and looking up calmly. "State your purpose."
Kagura felt a twinge of guilt. He'd assumed she was like Eriri, a closet self-pleasure enthusiast, but her 0 count made him feel he'd wronged an innocent.
"Purpose… ahem—"
What was his purpose?
Right—to grow close to Yukino, make her his girlfriend, even flash-marry her, freeing him from his parents' control and an arranged marriage to Mashiro Shiina, who couldn't even dress herself.
Her 0 count confirmed Yukino as a true lady, pristine as her namesake snow—beautiful yet untouchable, admired only from afar.
Saying, "I want you as my wife," would get him ejected instantly.
"Could it be, Sawamura-kun, you've no real business, just missing Class J and coming to the Service Club to get close to me?"
Yukino mused, chin in hand, as if it were obvious.
Her legs shifted uneasily, and she thought: This Sawamura boy is odd… I sensed it in class. We barely spoke, but alone now, that strangeness amplifies. Just sitting face-to-face, talking normally, I feel…
???
Is this woman's personality really like this? So narcissistic?
Raised in a seaside Chiba mansion, surrounded by dozens of young, beautiful maids, Kagura was pampered by women. Like any noble boy, he excelled at hide-and-seek under maids' skirts—though he'd outgrown crawling beneath them.
Did Yukino think him a sleaze who melted at any pretty face? Her words erased his fleeting guilt.
"If you've no business, please leave. I'm not a wax figure for you to gawk at."
Yukino gestured to the door, shrugging slightly.
I must get him out, or… being around him makes me feel strange.
Kagura leaned back, frowning. "I just got here, and you're kicking me out already? That's harsh."
"Then state your purpose. Don't make me ask a third time. I detest pointless chatter." Yukino's impatience was palpable.
Kagura tilted his head, puzzled. He recalled Yukino as less abrasive—why so curt with him?
"Fine," he said, recalling yesterday's events and Hayasaka's ghost stories. "I'm investigating Sobu High's seven mysteries, so I came to your 'jack-of-all-trades' club. Got any leads?"
"This isn't a 'jack-of-all-trades' club—it's the Service Club. Get it right. There's a fundamental difference."
"What's the difference? I heard you take jobs and work."
"The difference is that a jack-of-all-trades solves problems for clients, while the Service Club focuses on teaching people to solve their own problems."
Yukino closed her eyes, hand on her modest chest, intoning, "We empower the helpless to stand, the ignorant to learn, the rude to be humble. If you can't grasp this simple truth, this conversation ends."
"Uh… got it."
Kagura's lips twitched, suppressing a laugh.
Yukino's Service Club was a tad self-important, but intriguing, reminiscent of Lei Feng, a model of selfless good deeds. Helping others without reward deserved respect, not mockery.
"Got it? Good. Explaining would've been tedious, and I don't have first-grade language textbooks to teach from scratch."
"Hey, you think my language skills are first-grade level?"
"Well…" Yukino scrutinized him, concluding, "Perhaps second-grade?"
Kagura rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Regarding your inquiry," Yukino shifted uncomfortably, coughing lightly, "those 'mysteries' aren't worth investigating—just standard school ghost stories. Anything else? If not, please leave."
"One sentence to dismiss me?" Kagura snapped his fingers, recalling Mai-senpai staring at the mirror. "Have you met third-year Sakurajima-senpai?"
"I know she's a third-year, but I don't recall meeting her. Why? Is she tied to your ghost stories?"
"You've never heard the school's ghost stories?"
Kagura stared, stroking his chin.
Even he, socially detached, knew two of them and vaguely recalled "Sakurajima Mai" as a girl who died forty years ago. Yukino seemed utterly clueless.
"Nope… so what?" Yukino shrugged, shaking her head. "Why obsess over impractical nonsense like ghosts, souls, or curses? They're just psychological suggestions, not real."
"You…"
Kagura struggled to describe her, faltering.
"That's just me. Also, my name is Yukino Yukino—use it. If you're done, leave."
"Are you allergic to me or something?"
Kagura sensed something off about her, though he couldn't pinpoint it.
It was as if she were about to do something intensely private and wanted him gone.
"No, you're just overly self-conscious."
"I think you're the self-conscious one."
She shot him a cold glare, slapping her paperback on her lap. "Is that all you have to say?"
"No, I have one crucial matter." Kagura met her gaze earnestly. Yukino exhaled, nodding calmly. "Go ahead."
"First, what's the deadline for Service Club commissions?"
"Deadline…?"
"Like, if a commission's too tough and you can't crack it, do you give up after a week or a month?"
"Give up?" Yukino's brow arched, as if provoked, responding sharply, "Never. As long as there's hope, I'll do everything to complete it. The deadline's essentially indefinite… or until I graduate, I suppose."
"Got it, until graduation." Kagura nodded, speaking gravely, "I have a lifelong commission for you, due by September, the start of the second term."
"What's the details—?"
Yukino straightened, hands resting on her book, legs pressed together, tilting slightly left.
"First, confidentiality."
"No issue. Even under torture, I'd never betray a client's privacy."
"Ahem, nothing that extreme!" Kagura continued, "In September, my fiancée arrives in Japan. I have no desire to marry her but can't defy my parents. So, I plan to find a suitable woman willing to marry me and register our marriage with the government before my fiancée arrives."
Yukino's nose twitched, her eyelids flickering. Pressing her book, she said, "I don't see where I come in."
"The commission is to teach me how to make a girl genuinely fall in love with me and agree to marry me."
"…"
Yukino rubbed her temples, head bowed, clearly grappling with the challenge.
Kagura was a romantic novice. In his past life, he slaved away 24/7; in this one, only Hayasaka truly loved him, a bond forged over years. She couldn't marry him, and other "admirers" were mere starstruck fans—not true love, and he wasn't interested.
Rather than flailing blindly, enlisting Yukino, a self-styled jack-of-all-trades, seemed smarter.
Lacking romantic experience, Yukino's advice would reflect her own preferences, letting Kagura learn her likes and dislikes, spend time together, and eventually confess, I want to marry you, with a higher chance of success.
A 17-year-old, zero-masturbation maiden—Japan's rarest gem!
"About this commission…"
Yukino set her book aside, stood, glanced at the sunset streaming through the window, then at him.
"No confidence to take it?"
"Hardly," Yukino scoffed, hand on her chest, brimming with assurance. "I, Yukino Yukino, accept your commission."
"Great. So, what do I do?"
"Let me think." Yukino pondered, chin in hand, then smiled, hand on her chest. "Start with yourself. Transform until… until you can make me feel a flicker of interest. If you can stir me, the girl you're after will surely fall for you."
"…"
This woman's narcissism is off the charts!
Her words, rephrased, were like a master telling a disciple: Best me, and no martial artist can stand against you.
Yukino struck a "lonely master" pose, hands on her chest, facing the sunset, eyes closed, breathing deeply, like a caged canary awaiting her fated match.
"Even if I don't sway you, girls who like me could line up from Kyushu to Hokkaido."
"And is that the 'like' you want?"
Yukino pierced his gaze, unflinching. "That's mere infatuation with your 'genius piano prince' persona—idol worship. If that's enough for you, why come to me? If you're just bragging about your popularity, I'm unimpressed. I've been adorable since childhood, still am, and most men who approach me have designs on me."
She turned the tables, boasting back.
Kagura was glad she said it. His comment was a test, not his true belief—he never saw that as real "like." Her response confirmed they shared the same view.
A preliminary consensus—excellent.