Eriri, that blonde tsundere disaster, was almost certainly red-faced, muttering "pervert" and "creep" under her breath while secretly deliberating which set of victory lingerie to wear tonight.
And gumi. Always gumi. Warm as a cup of hot water. Easy to overlook. Sohow holding everything together.
...
At the sa ti, in a Shimokitazawa livehouse.
Seika Ijichi looked up from the account books, caught the notification on her phone screen, and rolled her eyes. "So this guy finally deigns to co back?"
"Seiji's coming back too?" Beside her, Nijika was staring at her own phone, cheeks flushed.
...
Elsewhere, at an entertainnt agency.
Sakiko Toyokawa had just wrapped her day's work when her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out. That exquisite face, always carrying a faint air of detachnt, blood with a delicate flush of color.
...
...
That evening.
Seiji's private car glided to a smooth stop inside the grounds of his central Tokyo villa.
When he stepped out, the mansion's grand entrance, palatial in scale, was already sliding open in silence.
Three figures waited at the threshold.
Utaha Kasumigaoka. Eriri Spencer Sawamura. And gumi Kato.
All three were wearing black-stockinged maid outfits.
Utaha had chosen the classic long-skirted variety, the hem falling nearly to her ankles, her legs visible only in teasing glimpses through the fabric. The effect was a deliberate contradiction: restraint and temptation woven together. Her hands were folded primly in front of her, her expression one of reluctant aristocratic disdain, but those wine-red eyes betrayed how much she'd been looking forward to this.
Eriri was the opposite extre. Her outfit was a heavily modified "combat maid" number, all lace and ruffled trim, the skirt cut scandalously short, rging her blonde-twintailed tsundere energy with the submissive aesthetic of a maid in a way that shouldn't have worked but absolutely did. Her face was crimson, her gaze pointedly averted, lips moving in a near-silent stream of "pervert" and "beast," while those green eyes kept stealing glances in his direction.
gumi stood between them in the simplest maid uniform of the three. No embellishnts, no theatrics. And yet it traced every line of a figure that seed unremarkable at first glance but was, on closer inspection, proportioned with almost mathematical perfection. Her expression was its usual placid smile, as though putting on a maid costu ranked sowhere between putting on a school uniform and putting on socks in terms of emotional significance.
"Welco ho, Seiji."
All three, in unison.
Seiji took in the view with open satisfaction, stepped forward, and pulled all three of them into his arms.
"I'm ho."
...
An exquisite night passed.
The next morning, Seiji woke at ten.
Sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the room.
Eriri was still clinging to him like an octopus, her sleeping face slack with contentnt.
Utaha lay with a slight furrow between her brows, a lingering trace of the night's intensity still written across her features.
And curled against his chest, small and soft as a kitten, was gumi.
Seiji admired the tableau for a while before waking them.
...
"Mmm... pervert... this early in the morning..."
The first to stir was the blonde twintail. Eriri cracked her eyes open, felt the hand roaming across her body, and turned scarlet in an instant, sputtering half-ford protests through her haze of sleep.
She tried to squirm away, only to find his other arm locked around her like a vice. All she could manage was a series of helpless, kitten-like whimpers.
"Are you physically incapable of thinking with anything above the waist?"
Utaha surfaced on the other side, her voice still thick with sleep.
"Can't a person rest in peace?"
Those wine-red eyes opened, fixing him with the usual acid expression, but her body shifted closer of its own accord. Her hand found his wandering one and held it, less a restraint than a demand for attention.
Seiji smiled and ignored the two loudmouths.
His gaze dropped to the figure beneath him who hadn't moved a muscle, seemingly still fast asleep.
"gumi. Still out?"
He leaned down, murmuring against her ear. His breath ghosted across the shell of it, and the pale skin flushed an instant, adorable pink.
"...I'm awake, Fujiwara-sensei."
gumi's voice carried a sleepy nasal quality that made it impossibly soft.
Then, under the stunned, disbelieving stares of Utaha and Eriri, gumi rolled over with perfect composure, lowered her head, and began a thorough, unhurried "good morning service" with all the gentle devotion of a ritual.
"M-gumi! You... what are you...!" Eriri's jaw dropped, her face so red it looked ready to bleed. She pointed, words tripping over themselves. "That's... that's shaless!"
Everything from last night was still on it. Hers and Utaha's traces included.
"gumi, you're... far too obedient with him!" Utaha couldn't hide her own embarrassnt, her tone caught sowhere between exasperation and envy.
gumi lifted her head. That perpetually neutral face offered a small, mild smile.
"It's what Fujiwara-sensei deserves, isn't it?"
A beat.
"Besides..."
Her gaze drifted to Utaha and Eriri. Sothing sly flickered behind those deceptively calm eyes.
"You two are next. Utaha-senpai, Sawamura-san."
Both of them went stiff.
A heartbeat later, they scrambled toward the edge of the bed like scalded cats, excuses tumbling out in panicked unison.
"I just rembered! I have pages to finish!"
"My novel! The ending! I just got inspired! I can't waste it!"
They didn't make it off the mattress. Seiji's arms closed around them with effortless precision and hauled them back.
"Running?"
The smile on his face belonged to a demon king.
"You had plenty of energy last night. What happened? Deserting already?" One in each arm, he pressed them both back into the soft bedding, his tone brooking no argunt. "Nobody leaves this morning."
...
An hour later.
A "morning workout" full of protests, shrieks, and begging for rcy finally concluded.
Utaha and Eriri lay boneless on the bed, drained of every ounce of strength, unable to lift a finger. Matching expressions of flushed, dazed bliss stared at the ceiling.
Seiji, thoroughly refreshed, strolled into the bathroom.
While he washed up, his staff had already prepared a briefing on the latest developnts in Tokyo's political and business landscape.
He erged from the shower in a bathrobe, toweling his hair as he crossed to the living room. He sat down and opened his laptop to scan the briefing.
"Hm?"
His eyes stopped on one item.
Latest Update: The National Advanced Nurturing High School Project
Advanced Nurturing High School was an S-tier national priority initiative launched by the current Cabinet in response to the declining birth rate and the push for elite education reform. Its stated goal was to replicate the world's top-tier educational models and cultivate Japan's next generation of exceptional talent.
The project encompassed new campus construction, procurent of a complete dical infrastructure, and developnt of a cutting-edge AI-driven educational system.
Every component was a contract worth tens of billions of yen, so exceeding a hundred billion.
A feast that size drew wolves from every direction.
The briefing spelled it out clearly:
"...Approval authority for the project currently rests with a special committee under the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology."
"Multiple core mbers of this committee have been leveraging their approval power to make frequent, unofficial contact with competing bidders, employing various thods to signal that all participating firms are expected to demonstrate their 'appreciation' through channels outside the formal bidding process..."
"Appreciation."
Seiji read the euphemism with a look of complete unsurprise.
Rent-seeking. Sa everywhere.
The project hadn't particularly interested him before. Genesis Group's operations already spanned the globe; one dostic education initiative barely registered.
But...
Advanced Nurturing High School?
So it's the Classroom of the Elite setup after all... or more accurately, the Classroom of Might-Makes-Right.
He recalled the plot from his previous life and smirked inwardly. A sealed-off school like that was absurd on its face. But as a vanity project for political optics, in a country swimming with every flavor of shady operator, it made perfect sense.
Island developnt. Internal paynt and information systems. On-site dical facilities. Internal supply chains...
His eyes narrowed in thought.
Every single line item dripping with profit margins.
gumi, now dressed, approached with a freshly brewed cup of tea. "Fujiwara-sensei, breakfast is ready. Did sothing co up?"
Seiji took the cup, sipped, and smiled. "Found an interesting project."
"I'm going to get involved."
He handed her the briefing.
Then he pulled up the system reward in his mind.
[The Cabinet's Original Sin Files]
He began searching the archive, cross-referencing the nas of the committee's core mbers from the briefing.
...
Nas, incidents, money trails that looked unrelated on the surface were linked together by the system at terrifying speed, forming a clear web of connections.
Dirtier than I expected.
Seiji looked at the criminal records the search had produced, material that would make any normal person's stomach turn, and let a cold smile cross his face.
He didn't deploy the full arsenal. No point using a cannon to swat a fly.
Instead, he selected the lightest piece from the collection. An appetizer.
It was a complete evidence chain showing how a certain Vice-Minister of Education, one of the committee's key figures, had used his authority several years ago to place his illegitimate son in an elite private university. The tuition had been paid with funds diverted from a scholarship program ant for underprivileged students.
The evidence itself was minor in scale.
But for a vice-minister who had built his entire public image on being "clean" and "impartial," the optics were devastating.
More importantly, the appetizer contained a subtle thread connecting to a far heavier target within the Cabinet: the current Minister of Finance.
That was Seiji's real objective.
He encrypted the package and had his people route it through interdiaries.
The recipient was neither the vice-minister nor the finance minister.
It was the sitting Pri Minister of Japan, Ryuichi Takeshita.
...
...
Half an hour later.
The Pri Minister's residence in Chiyoda. Top-floor office.
The atmosphere was stone cold.
Pri Minister Takeshita stared in silence at the "gift" his staff had delivered.
His secretary stood beside him, ashen-faced.
"Have you traced it? Where did this co from?" Takeshita's voice ca out hoarse and cold.
"...Pri Minister, we cannot determine the source." The secretary's tone was grim. "Our technical team exhausted every thod available. The origin is untraceable. It appeared as if from nowhere. Furthermore, the sender appears to have... completely bypassed our highest-level security."
Takeshita said nothing for a long ti.
His gaze bored into the screen, into the seemingly minor dirt on the education vice-minister.
His political instincts decoded the ssage instantly. The threat, and the implicit offer of a deal, were not even trying to be subtle.
The target wasn't that fool of a vice-minister.
It was the finance minister, the man who'd been locked in a shadow war with Takeshita for years.
This was an open gambit.
And a gift he couldn't refuse.
"Pull the finance minister's full itinerary for the past week. Every conglorate with financial ties to Matsumoto. All of it." The words ca out sharp, his eyes flashing with sothing predatory.
The secretary flinched, then bowed. "Yes, sir!"
He understood. The Pri Minister had made his decision. He was going to ride this wind.
"And get Seiji Fujiwara at Genesis Group on a call."
The sentence ground out between Takeshita's teeth after another long silence.
He didn't know who had sent the package. But he knew that in all of Japan, only one person had both the capability and the audacity to play this kind of ga.
...
The video call convened exactly thirty minutes later.
On one side of the screen: Pri Minister Ryuichi Takeshita, face grim.
On the other: Seiji Fujiwara, dressed in casual wear, looking absurdly young.
"Fujiwara-sensei. Quite the accomplished young man." Takeshita opened, his tone layered with things unsaid.
"You flatter , Pri Minister." Seiji smiled. "I'm just a law-abiding businessman who happens to take an interest in the nation's educational future."
The dripping sarcasm made Takeshita's eye twitch.
Neither man wasted a single word beyond what was necessary.
The deal was struck in monts.
Seiji would provide, in carefully tid installnts, enough ammunition for the Pri Minister to "clean house."
In exchange, Takeshita would personally intervene in the approval process for the Advanced Nurturing High School project.
...
The following day. Ten a.m.
Ministry of Education. Office of the Special Approval Committee.
The committee's core mbers were sipping tea, leisurely carving up their shares of the project's spoils.
"Still no movent from Genesis Group?" The vice-minister's tone carried a note of irritation.
"None, sir. After submitting their proposal, they've made no further contact. Quite... ill-mannered." A subordinate offered the answer with an obsequious smile.
"Ill-mannered?" The vice-minister sneered. "Then let them stay ignorant. Cut them in the first round."
The dedicated phone line on his desk rang.
He frowned and picked it up.
"Hello? This is..."
Before he could finish, a voice ca through the receiver. One he recognized imdiately.
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