The Academy's Savior
A spacious room floored with tatami mats.
There sat a sturdy, white-haired old man. Clad in a black kimono, he knelt in formal seiza, holding a teacup respectfully in both hands.
The old man was Sanada Kenshi, leader of Madojeong.
He quietly swallowed a sip of the steaming tea.
Static crackled.
The space around Sanada Kenshi warped, and a figure appeared—a human silhouette, one of those magical projections akin to a video call. Before long, four such figures had materialized around him.
Including Sanada Kenshi himself, five in total.
These were the executives who ran Madojeong alongside him.
Today they had convened an emergency meeting. The reason was none other than the unexpected variable that had arisen at Japan's Arashi Academy.
"I hear the Korean academy students arrived at Arashi Academy today," Sanada Kenshi began. He was the one who had summoned them for this emergency session.
—You're calling an emergency meeting over something that trivial? They're just here for the exchange tournament. It has nothing to do with us.
—Agreed. Korea may not sit well with us, but right now we need to focus on the plan.
—You're the one who said touching the academy would cost us more than we'd gain, Sanada Kenshi. You yourself.
Sanada Kenshi leisurely lifted the teacup again and took another sip.
"I have information obtained in absolute secrecy. Among the Korean academy's guardians is Seong Ha-ri."
For a moment the four executives fell silent.
Seong Ha-ri.
No one here was ignorant of that name.
—…How did this happen? Did the government catch wind of our plan and ask Seong Ha-ri for help?
—Impossible. If the Japanese government knew, the information would have reached us. And we would of course have moved to keep Seong Ha-ri from setting foot in Japan.
—She's at Arashi Academy, you said? Then the answer is simple. Tenrai Nagisa. That woman must have arranged it.
—She may not know the entirety of our plan, but she seems to have grasped parts of it… so it isn't entirely out of the question.
—What do we do? Proceed with the plan as is? Or wait until Gwan-cheon of the Thunder leaves Japan?
—This is something we've prepared for over thirty years. We've only just entered the final stage. Is there any need to take unnecessary risks? We can deal with Korea and Gwan-cheon of the Thunder after the plan succeeds. It won't be too late.
Everyone preferred to let it slide quietly.
But Sanada Kenshi, leader of Madojeong, was different.
"Seong Ha-ri is not the Seong Ha-ri of old. There is no need to fear her. The plan proceeds on schedule. Once it succeeds, we can deal with Tenrai Nagisa and Seong Ha-ri immediately."
—…We've prepared for thirty years. Can't we wait a few more months?
"Should Madojeong grind to a halt over a single variable? If one Seong Ha-ri is enough to make us fail… then better to fail. Age has made you all cowards, it seems."
—Sanada isn't wrong. If a single person can make the plan fail… that only means we were that incompetent to begin with.
—We're on the verge of completion. Thirty years of planning are about to bear fruit! Set pride aside and weigh the practicalities!
"I have weighed the practicalities thoroughly. Seong Ha-ri will be able to do nothing. Hattori."
—…Speak.
"Proceed as planned."
—Very well.
Having said his piece, Sanada Kenshi once more took tea into his mouth. The executives' voices reached his ears, but the plan did not change.
After dinner free time was granted.
I found myself in a happy dilemma—namely, which woman to spend that free time with.
Unfinished physical conversation with Seong Ha-ri? Hunting down Yun Huijeong and pinning her under me for sex wouldn't be bad either. Letting Go Eunha dominate me for a change had its appeal. Checking on Lee Si-eun's condition after so long was fine too.
Sex in the bathhouse? No. The baths are bound to be full of other students right now…
I walked the corridor while mulling it over. At the far end lay a lounge. I had meant to pass it by, but a blonde woman sitting in a chair and staring blankly out the window caught my eye. Clara Peired.
"Is the view outside that nice? It's dark—you can't see a thing."
Clara looked at me with startled eyes, then soon curved her lips into a smile.
"You're Seong Yujin, first in the grade rankings, right? I'm Clara Peired. This is the first time we've spoken. Nice to meet you."
Her smile was beautiful, and her voice—true to a singer—was clear and pure. Pleasant to the ear. She would certainly be good at belting high notes too.
Charna.
Charna
Remaining stacks: 6
I activated Charna and slowly savored her body.
Clara was a beauty who looked as if every Western blonde fantasy had been crammed into one person. The golden hair was lovely, the blue eyes gemlike. Her porcelain skin needed no comment. Her physical assets were, of course, outstanding. Breasts that looked easily I-cup, a slender waist, hips that threatened to burst and more than held their own against that chest. She was tall too—170 cm.
"You don't have to."
"Hm? Don't have to what?"
"Always smiling and playing the nice girl around people. It's a pain, right? Dealing with me right now must be killing you."
Clara's face stiffened slightly. The moment was brief—less than a second. But I had been watching her face intently, so I caught that fleeting change. A face that pretty made it hard not to focus even if you tried.
"What are you talking about? Did some reporter or paparazzi put you up to this weird request to sound me out?"
"I'm good at reading people. Clara Peired. Born in Nevada. Stood out as a singer from a young age. Favorite fruit is cherries, favorite dish is Chicago pizza. Hates durian, hates potato dishes in general. Enjoys reading Time magazine, speaks not only English but German, French, and Korean. And among the celebrities she's close with…"
"Stop! I get that you're a fan who knows a lot about me. Where should I sign? I'll even do a T-shirt."
"I know things other people don't."
"That bit about me finding you a hassle? That's all in your head. There's no way dealing with fans is a hassle. Everything I am today is thanks to my fans."
Clara smiled.
I'd tried a little shit-stirring to grab her attention… and it hadn't landed at all.
If I back down here, it's really over. Time to push harder. Side effects worry me, but…
A rare chance. Being a little disliked was better than ending in indifference.
"And three years ago you got a confession from a red-haired thug."
Clara's face went completely stiff. That red-haired thug was Hamson Hemingford, heir to the Hemingford family. The Hemingfords ranked among the top five families in America.
Clara had rejected Hamson Hemingford's confession, and in retaliation she had been barred from working as a singer in the United States. Hamson had tried to gaslight her with money and power, but Clara had come to study in Korea—beyond the Hemingfords' reach—and continued her career.
"How do you…"
"Hamson's pressure is still ongoing, isn't it?"
"…You. Did Hamson put you up to approaching me?"
I couldn't exactly say honestly that I wanted to fuck her.
"No way. Don't you know who I am? My mother is Seong Ha-ri."
"……Then why the hell did you show up in front of me? To blackmail me?"
"Blackmail for what?"
Clara was the soft-outside, hard-inside type. The fact that she was still proudly working as a singer after making an enemy of the Hemingfords proved it.
Ordinary threats wouldn't work. Threats weren't the best play. Forcing a rape? My current power made that possible. But that would be no fun.
"I'm your fan. I want to help you."
"…Haa. If you're my fan, then please don't make things difficult for me. Just because you know my circumstances doesn't mean you get to act like you know everything about me. …Still, since you're a fan, I'll give you as many autographs as you want."
"I really love your songs. I want to keep listening to them. Not the ones that already exist—new songs you'll write and sing. But if the Hemingfords interfere, that gets hard. So for my own sake, I want to help you."
"Ha…. You're saying you'll make an enemy of the Hemingfords for my songs? Over mere songs?"
"Your songs aren't mere songs. And if I help you… someday you'll repay me, won't you? Write and sing a song just for me, or something."
Clara snorted a laugh.
"I don't sing for just one person. I have no intention of ever doing so. I'm grateful you like my songs, but you don't need to help me. I'll be going now. Actually I was waiting here briefly to meet Teacher Yun Huijeong. I'll give you that autograph later."
Clara left the lounge at a quick pace. Her swaying golden hair and the hips that rocked with every step made my cock stir.
Her steps are so fast it almost looks like she's running away.
I leaned against the lounge wall and cast my gaze out the window. Half-looking at the dark scenery, I thought about Hamson Hemingford.
Making an enemy of the Hemingfords is practically the same as making an enemy of America.
That was how enormous the Hemingford family's influence in the United States was.
Ordinarily I wouldn't touch the Hemingfords either.
But Hamson Hemingford laid hands on my woman.
Clara was my woman.
I hadn't laid her yet, but I had decided she was mine.
He touched my woman, so he pays the price. Even if that price is America itself.
If America got in my way, I would use every means and method available to kill America.
Just as I always had.
Americans love zombies so much, don't they…?
Leaving the lounge, I headed for Choi Dayeon's room.
Choi Dayeon was essential to my plans.
Knock knock knock.
I rapped slowly on her door and spoke.
"It's me, Seong Yujin. I have something to say—can I come in?"
"……Wait."
The door opened. Choi Dayeon was still in her school uniform. As always she folded her arms and greeted me with a haughty face.
"What do you want? Say it here without coming in."
"I said I want to talk inside."
"…I haven't finished unpacking yet."
"Heh."
I laughed and forced my way into Choi Dayeon's room. Arms still crossed, she couldn't stop me. Once inside I looked around. An aromatic candle burned on the desk, filling the room with its scent. I kept smiling. Choi Dayeon's eyes trembled, unable to hide their agitation.
In truth I had been using Heavenly Eye even before knocking on her door. That was how I knew what Choi Dayeon had been doing inside.
I pretended to stroll leisurely toward the desk, then spun and lunged onto the bed.
"Seong Yujin…! G-get off the bed! You don't just climb onto a girl's bed like that!"
"Yeah. No."
I peeled back the summer blanket. In the center of the blue bedsheet was a faintly damp patch, as if water had been spilled. I didn't stop there—I pulled out the object hidden under the pillow.
A pair of white panties. The crotch was soaked through with sticky fluid. A single curly pubic hair stuck to them for good measure.
"Wow, still warm. You were having a good time just now, huh?"