Chapter 103
Chapter 103
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 103
Chapter Title: Blackmail
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The reception room of Sato Industries felt suffocatingly quiet, weighed down by old wooden furniture and heavy curtains. Across the table sat Sato Yoshitaka, a middle-aged man with a ratty mustache.
"Professor Fudahara."
His voice was forced low. There was no real charisma befitting the head of a company—he seemed all too aware of it and was desperately trying to fake it.
"We've had no complaints about the goods you've supplied so far. The quality is excellent, and your craftsmanship is beyond reproach. As expected from a workshop with such a storied tradition, right?"
Shizune's father dipped his head slightly.
"You're too kind."
"However..."
Yoshitaka paused, drumming his fingers on the table.
"As I mentioned, stability is key if we're to continue this contract long-term. Having no successor is a major stumbling block."
At those words, Shizune started to speak up in protest.
No matter how she thought about it, this was outrageous overreach.
Who in their right mind factors in a successor decades out when signing a simple contract for calligraphy supplies?
But just as she opened her mouth, the reception room door creaked open, and someone entered.
Screeech—
"Ah, so this is where you're talking."
Shizune's eyes widened.
"Y-You...?"
It was the man she'd seen that afternoon.
The tutor who'd suddenly revealed his filthy desires toward her: Sato Yusuke.
To think he was the son of Sato Industries.
Shizune couldn't hide her shock.
Yusuke's lips curled higher at her expression.
"What were you all discussing?"
His tone dripped with mockery.
"Yusuke, I'll hear what you have to say separately... Be quiet for now."
Yoshitaka scolded him lowly, but his son exuded nothing but leisure.
"Yes, of course, Father. Haha..."
He bowed his head with a compliant smile, but the sneer lingered.
After the usual pleasantries, Yoshitaka stood and spoke.
"Professor Fudahara, why don't we step out for a smoke? Sitting here so long is stuffy. Let's leave the young ones to chat among themselves."
"...Very well."
Shizune's father glanced worriedly at his daughter but dismissed any real concern as unlikely and stepped out.
As the two men left through the door, the reception room fell into immediate silence.
Yusuke leaned back in the seat his father had just vacated, glaring at Shizune.
"Miss Fudahara. Now it's just us—let's be honest. ...Did you?"
He slowly crossed his legs.
"What are you...? Did I do what?"
"Oh, come on, drop the innocent act. Did you? With that big lump of a guy. Did you fuck him?"
Tremble!
It was a deeply humiliating question even to ask another man—let alone a woman. But Yusuke acted like it was nothing.
"Oh? From your reaction, looks like you haven't gone all the way yet."
"W-We aren't like that! How dare you say such depraved things...!"
Shizune shot to her feet, her face flushed with sexual shame and rage.
"Kukukuku. Look at you, so full of pride. Listen here. One word from me to my dad, and your little workshop's contract is gone in a flash. I'll tell the prime contractor directly that your crap quality is garbage. No one's gonna protect a rundown, stinking calligraphy shop on its last legs."
Shizune's head hung low, her fists trembling faintly.
"So it's simple."
Yusuke propped his chin, grinning.
"Get on your knees and bow to me right now. Dogeza. I'll put in a good word with Dad then."
Kuhuhuhu—
"Come on. Forget all that gentlemanly crap and decorum... Just obey me."
Prostrate yourself.
"Then you can keep doing your precious calligraphy, and your dad's workshop stays safe. Come on."
Kneel.
"Submit."
Drip...
Blood trickled from Shizune's lip.
Just as her knees began to bend, a voice flashed through her mind.
-"...Even with riches and honor, one does not fall into depravity; even in poverty, one does not bend one's will; even faced with threats and force, one does not submit. That is the true measure of a great man."
Though she wasn't a man herself, the words fit her situation perfectly. It had only been a short time since they'd met, but that man saw right through her in a way no one else did. Broad-shouldered, with a solid voice. The only one who truly understood her archaic speech and the classics—not mimicking, but grasping them.
Once her mind cleared, reason overtook emotion.
Would her father really watch his own daughter be humiliated just to protect his workshop? That was the stuff of fiction—real parents weren't like that. At least, not the father she knew.
She straightened her half-bent knees, her eyes blazing as she glared at the seated Yusuke.
"Oh...? What's that look? Because of that Yu Sanghyeon or whatever, that Korean bastard? Huh? What's so great about a filthy foreigner like that?!"
"Sato Yusuke."
Shizune's low, firm voice. Sato flinched involuntarily, then bristled with wounded pride and glared back.
"I've sensed your interest in my body. Men are wont to be that way—it's the natural order, so I don't view it as particularly strange. However, is it the act of a true man to leech off his father's authority like a parasite, to threaten a woman and sabotage a legitimate contract?"
"Wh-What? Parasite?!"
"Hear this. The Master said: 'The gentleman helps others realize their goodness but does not help them cultivate wickedness. The petty man does the opposite.'"
Her eyes gleamed like a tiger's as she pierced the essence of his vile deed.
"What you're doing is crushing goodness and fostering evil. Sato Yusuke—you prove yourself a petty man."
Her words cut sharp.
"What the hell... You bitch...!"
"Thus, a shameless petty man like you has no right to utter a gentleman's name. Dare not soil Master Sanghyeon's name with that filthy mouth again. He is a man worlds apart from the likes of you."
Thud!
"You goddamn bitch!!"
Slap!
"Kyaa...!"
Shizune crumpled to the floor from the full force of an adult man's slap.
Just then, the two middle-aged men returned from their smoke and witnessed the scene.
"Sh-Shizune! What happened?!"
He'd never shown it outwardly, but he'd cherished his daughter all her life. Seeing her clutching her face on the floor sent him into a panic as he rushed over.
At that moment, Sato Yoshitaka—knowing his son's temperament all too well—quickly intervened.
"Oh dear, is she not feeling well? You should head home right away! We can continue this another time!"
He grasped the situation in an instant and was trying to shut it down before the father and daughter could raise hell.
"Ah, yes, thank you. Then...! Shizune, let's go!"
"Ugh..."
Unaware of the full story, Fudahara's father expressed his thanks. Shizune, desperate to escape this terrifying place even a second sooner, fled the reception room with her father like refugees.
"D-Did something happen?"
Her usually steadfast father stammered, looking at her with worry.
But Shizune smiled brightly and shook her head as if it were nothing.
"It's nothing, Father. I just got a sudden headache..."
"Then why's your face all swollen?"
"Probably some allergic reaction..."
Her father's face fell in despair. He wasn't a fool—he knew the handprint on his daughter's face wasn't from any allergy. But pursuing it now felt hesitant.
"...Don't push yourself too hard. This foolish father will look into legal options, so go rest... I'm sorry I can't be more help. Leave the rest to me."
But he was the man who'd raised a daughter as upright as Shizune.
He clenched his fist, ashamed of his momentary hesitation over the Sato Industries relationship, and headed to his room.
He would likely spend the night devising a proper way to protest.
"F-Father...?"
Paternal love from her usually gruff father.
Finally, tears she'd held back with all her might spilled from Shizune's eyes.
Alone in her room, Shizune wiped her face with the back of her hand. But some things couldn't be wiped away: the fear and anxiety welling up from within, and the humiliation. She couldn't cry in front of her father. The moment she'd met his steadfast gaze, her chest had tightened with the thought that whining and clinging wasn't befitting a daughter.
"Father... is suffering more than I am."
She whispered it like a vow to herself, but her fingertips still trembled. She was scared. Sato Yusuke's glare lingered in her vision. The very real terror that her family business might collapse gnawed at her bones.
In that moment, one man's face came to mind.
Broad shoulders, a firm voice. The one person who'd truly understood her antiquated speech and passages from the classics—not imitating, but comprehending from the heart.
"Master Sanghyeon..."
With trembling hands, she picked up her phone.