Peter Pan - 12: The Child Who Wouldn't Sacrifice
I returned to the company where I'd first come looking for Mikoto's phone. Barely after stepping inside, a woman emerged in a flashy suit. She didn't stand out much from the average employees—just a bit older and a touch more beautiful—but I knew right away she was the president. A jarring discord emanated from her rigid expression clashing with the bright tones of her outfit.
"Are you here because of Mikoto?"
This was undoubtedly the "higher-up"—the one who'd lured Mikoto here and raped her. I kept my guard up, but there wasn't anything I could really do about it. It was surprising she was still hanging around after claiming she'd turn herself in. Had she deceived Mikoto? But someone exuding that kind of presence didn't strike me as the type to trick people easily.
"I don't have much to tell you about her. Aside from how much she loved voice acting work... but you already know that, don't you?"
"I want to find her. She's avoiding me, but I feel like we need to talk."
"Hasn't Mikoto come back yet? I figured she'd quit her little affair and return to her master. This is unexpected."
"As much as it pains me to say it... anyway, didn't Mikoto leave to chase her dreams? Even if it leaves a bad taste in my mouth... does she really have a reason to come back on her own?"
"You seem to be misunderstanding something. Mikoto isn't the type to sacrifice everything for her dreams."
Nemu's words carried a subtle sneer laced with mockery.
"She's just a kid. A whiny little brat who wants to have her cake and eat it too."
It was the kind of statement that shattered my desire to see her in a positive light, revealing her true nature.
"She doesn't even grasp the basic fact that to gain one thing, you have to give up another."
It might have been true, but I had no interest in being convinced by it. Mikoto had already done me wrong, and I had every right to make her pay. But I didn't want to hate her because of this woman's words. I needed to hate her—if I did—based on what I'd heard and seen from Mikoto herself, after judging it with my own eyes.
"That's why she abandoned even basic human decency. Betraying a master who welcomed her so kindly—it's not something a person should do."
"Then was what you did to her humane? I've heard what you did to Mikoto and the other voice actresses."
"And that's why I got what I wanted. High-quality work. To obtain one thing, you have to give up another."
Nemu smiled softly.
"Oh, and when you held Mikoto, the fact that she was still a virgin? You can thank me for half of that."
"Why?"
"Even when Mikoto rejected my offer once and later came crying and begging me to take her virginity, I refused to let her back into this industry."
I glared at Nemu in silence. Insulting one of my own pissed me off, right or wrong. No, she might not be mine anymore.
"If you'd seen that pathetic face of hers, you'd have lost all affection for her... Lucky you."
Mikoto had underestimated Nemu's influence. She was so casual around her that she never realized how others treated this hellish demon of a president. Nemu was an authority in the industry; a few words from her could erase every role Mikoto had lined up. No one called her in anymore, and even when her auditions were flawless, she kept getting rejected.
Mikoto holed up at home for months, doing nothing. She couldn't meet anyone. She occasionally ate with a few bold friends from voice acting, but when they started losing jobs too, she gave up reaching out. Work had been her everything, so she had no friends outside of it. Her savings weren't vanishing, but the pride she'd built up slowly crumbled. The sparkle in her eyes faded before she knew it. Her always-bright voice couldn't stay cheerful alone for months.
She dragged herself back to Nemu's office, sobbing and begging. She'd do anything asked—just please give her life back. Somewhere along the way, Mikoto's dream of someday meeting someone who loved her and sharing a happy night had been discarded. But Nemu saw no light left in her. The passion, the madness, the talent—all gone. Mikoto was just another desperate soul among many. Few matched Nemu's level of obsession, but desperate people overflowed the world.
Nemu sent her away with a cold smile. Mikoto pleaded, cursed, raged in front of the company for days, but Nemu remained silent. She even reported it to the local police, but they wouldn't cross a successful businesswoman like Nemu and refused to act. Mikoto despaired, but she was powerless.
So Mikoto resolved herself. If she had to sell her body to keep voice acting anyway, she'd take the long way around to the same result. Her plan: find a powerful man, use Nemu's crimes as leverage to oust her, then return to voice work. The "powerful men she could seduce with her body" she vaguely targeted were those seeking slaves. She'd sell herself to one, drive Nemu out, and reclaim her career. It was a forced, delusional fantasy—not much of a plan—but it was her last hope.
Mikoto caked makeup on her gaunt face and force-fed herself despite no appetite, preparing to sell herself. She avoided mirrors usually, but now she stared into them repeatedly, trying to recapture the "pretty girl" people once praised. But she couldn't remember what that beautiful self looked like. In the end, she decided to act.
She created a clumsy, exaggerated anime character, filled notebooks with pages like "What does this character like?" and "What would she say in this situation?" After thoroughly analyzing and internalizing "Fake Mikoto," she boarded a flight to Korea to reclaim her dream. She accepted the inhuman slave market treatment. She even learned basic night skills awkwardly and studied Korean diligently. It was grueling, but Mikoto endured on the single desire to reclaim her life.
But the world didn't bend to her will. Her master was far kinder than expected. Parched for human connection, Mikoto forgot her act and fell into her relationship with him. They played the games she starred in together, watched her favorite anime. She grinned endlessly pondering when to pull out her cosplay outfits—things she'd never done before. She sensed he was mildly indifferent to her hobbies, but he always smiled brightly at her face. Each time, Mikoto lost herself in excitement, joyfully playing with her master.
The betting games she'd started one by one to justify receiving his mercy had stalled at her second win after days. After weeks like this, one night while fetching water, she overheard sounds leaking from his room. A man and a woman in ecstatic moans. That alone might have just flushed her cheeks in embarrassment. But Seongha's tender words to Yukiko, and Yukiko's—usually so cold and composed—disheveled cries made Mikoto realize the truth.
That's how people who love each other talk.
I can never join that.
Only then did she understand: to her master, she wasn't a sexual or romantic partner. She was a pet, or at best a well-treated daughter. Even that was an excessively merciful act from an incredibly kind man. She'd wondered why he hadn't taken her right away, but hadn't dwelled on it. Just "Sex is scary, so later is fine."
Hearing Yukiko's voice alone let her realize:
—That's pleasure. Once you fall into it, you can't come back.—
What if she forced herself on her master to seduce him? He was too gentle; if she wanted it, he'd hold her, no question. If it was just pleasure without love, she could enjoy it as much as the woman in his bed. She could stay by his side forever as this childish self, content without dreams. It was an enormous temptation for Mikoto.
But from the moment she'd entered this house, she'd vowed to protect her dream and reclaim her life. She'd thought she'd bear the sacrifices that came with it. Unless you cut away the unnecessary, you can't even hold onto what you want most. She didn't want to revert to the old Mikoto who'd forsaken voice work for a delusional dream of preserving her virginity. For the dream she'd already achieved—not some vague fantasy—she could give up everything.
Her heart tore with pain so sharp it felt less agonizing than losing her hymen. And the next afternoon, she showed him—face utterly unchanged—the final side of herself she wanted him to see, holding nothing back. Then, she made her wish.
"Then... Master Oppa, can you grant me just one wish?"
—Please, give me back my life.
And so, for her dream, Mikoto gave up the man she loved.