My Wife Was Stolen by a Superior Citizen (1)
All people are equal. There was surely a time when Japanese children were taught that. Now it's remembered as a black mark in history. Of course, humans aren't equal.
A strict hierarchy with Kim Hoyoung as its god at the pinnacle divides society into classes. All humans must submit to Kim Hoyoung. That's just common sense.
But there's only one Kim Hoyoung, and he lives mostly in Korea, so a separate ruling class is needed to control the general populace—the dominated masses. Those who have earned Kim Hoyoung's favor are called Superior Citizens in Japan.
Superior Citizens are the nobility of the modern age. In old Japan, samurai could slice down peasants at will without consequence. Today's Superior Citizens wield even greater power over the masses.
Superior Citizens are free from the law's constraints. They can commit murder or rape without police interference. After all, the police chief—the prime minister, Fujiwara no Himeko herself—is a prime example of a Superior Citizen.
When those in the inner circle fight among themselves, ordinary citizens have no recourse. The silver lining? There are so few Superior Citizens that the average person rarely encounters one.
Most folks live lives little changed from before the system began. Except for the extremely unlucky few—
Like the Wagatsuma family here.
A modest apartment complex in Tokyo. Nothing special compared to the neighbors, but to Wagatsuma Wataru, it was a cherished nest that filled his belly with pride just looking at it. Bought with a grueling 40-year mortgage, it was the sanctuary he'd share with his family for life.
Teased relentlessly in school for his awkward personality, Wataru had grown into a solid company man. He owned a home, and above all, he had a loving wife and daughter. What was there to envy?
His greatest pride was his wife. Average in height, looks, education, wealth, income—honestly, below average—Wataru knew Wagatsuma Shizuka was too good for him.
She'd been his high school classmate. People often ask, "So you dated since school and got married?" Not at all.
Back then, Shizuka ruled the school's caste system as an alpha female, untouchable. Wataru was just a total loser.
Cheerleading captain, student council president, and stunningly beautiful—she was Wataru's secret crush, but he never dared speak to her before graduation.
They reconnected by chance on the street shortly after he started working. She approached him first, they grabbed tea, and things flowed naturally from there.
Wataru was over the moon that the school's idol even remembered him. Maybe she found his earnestness cute.
They started dating, got married. Even now, Wataru can't fathom why a beauty like Shizuka chose him. Waking up to her beside him every day was gratitude enough.
Still, doubts creep in sometimes. In high school, Shizuka dated the baseball team captain—a 190cm flower boy who modeled and played ball, now a major leaguer in America, a national star.
Could someone who'd been with him really be satisfied with me? The insecurity hits hard.
"Shizuka…"
"Hm? What?"
"Why'd you marry me?"
"What're you talking about all of a sudden? You unhappy being married to me?"
"No way! Meeting you was the luckiest break of my life! It's just… what did you even like about me?"
"Aw, c'mon. You're a great guy—don't put yourself down."
"What makes you say that?"
"You're kind without rough edges, sweet, always considerate, never lose your temper, not violent, just… reliably average all around?"
Average. A subtle compliment for a man, but hey—she likes me. That's what matters, right?
She'll stay by my side as my too-good wife. Wataru took pride in that alone, despite having nothing else to brag about.
Even at reunions, amid successful businessmen, Wataru drew the envy.
"How the hell did you land Shizuka?"
"Seriously… did you hypnotize her or something?"
"Fuckin' jealous, man. My wife got heavier than me after the kid."
"Coming home every day to Shizuka waiting? Shit, I'd work my ass off."
No guy from school hadn't fantasized about dating Shizuka. But I, Wagatsuma Wataru, ended up with her.
This triumph! He rocketed to #1 on his friends' "Who I'd wanna be reborn as" list.
Some envy crossed lines, though.
"Yo, what does Shizuka look like during sex? Imagining that haughty bitch moaning 'cock feels so gooood~' gets me hard as fuck."
"Dude's drunk."
"Go home, asshole. Joking about another guy's wife."
Shizuka's bedroom face, huh? Yeah, they'd wonder what the Madonna looked like at night.
But only her husband gets to see it—me.
Truth is, Shizuka isn't big on sex, so it's not much different from daytime. Wataru does the thrusting and panting.
She lies there blankly till he's done.
"Hah! Hah! Cumming! Shizuka!"
"…………."
"Haa… haa…"
Her body was too stimulating for Wataru. Embracing his high school idol added taboo thrill, turning him premature.
Under a minute, it's over. He snores in satisfaction; pattern set.
But that rude friend's words lingered. As he creampied her, Wataru checked her face.
"…………."
Utterly neutral. Looking up at him like doing dishes or laundry: "Done? Then let's sleep."
I thrust, moan, scream—everything. She's so composed.
But it's no sin. She doesn't refuse; that's just her style.
Anyway, I've seen Shizuka's sex face. The real one, known only to me.
Savoring his superiority, Wataru crashed into deep sleep. Shizuka followed much later.
At least outwardly, they seemed a normal couple—save for the husband's deeper devotion.
Until that family hot spring trip.
"This place was booked for some bigwig, but the appointment canceled, so VIP tickets fell to me. Let's indulge—feel like Superior Citizens for a day."
"Honey, don't talk about Superior Citizens so casually. Could get us in trouble."
"Psh, no one's around."
Wataru posed in the car to his wife. Superior Citizens were too sacred even to mention lightly.
News often ran stories of guys joking complaints over drinks, landing life sentences.
Family wouldn't sue, sure. And lower citizens don't truly revere them—just crushed by power. In trusted company, they gripe about the unfair perks.
"We lower citizens fork over 80% of our income to them. Can't even hot spring without lucky tickets like this. Man… miss old Japan."
"Honey, watch it. Kirino might hear."
Their daughter, Wagatsuma Kirino, dozed in the back.
"What if Kirino badmouths them and gets arrested?"
"Mm… yeah. Sorry, I'll behave."
But Wataru's resolve crumbled fast. At the hot spring, soldiers barricaded the entrance.
He rolled down the window. "What's going on?"
"Who're you?"
"Here for the springs."
"Go home. VIP's using it—entry restricted."
"VIP? You mean a Superior Citizen?"
"VIP security is tight. Leave. No regular guests."
The soldier waved him off like a pesky vendor. Shizuka and Kirino sighed in disappointment.
"Honey… they said no?"
"Dad, what the hell? Totally useless. This sucks. No hot springs for us?"
Five hours driving, only to turn back? Too infuriating. Family grumbles stung his pride.
Spotting the Superior Citizen signature on the ticket, inspiration struck. He showed it.
"Wait. I'm a Superior Citizen—does that mean me too?"
"S-Superior Citizen?!"
Like magic, the soldier's attitude flipped. Saluting unbidden, he checked the sig, bowed 90 degrees.
"My apologies! Superior Citizens enter freely. Come in!"
Like Moses parting the sea, soldiers split. Wataru led his family inside, thrilled.
"Honey, we get in now?"
"Ooh, Dad's got game?"
Shoulders swelling with pride: "This ain't nothin'. Thought I had no pull? Let's melt that stress away!!"
His patriarchal glow-up lasted under 30 minutes—till soldiers stormed in.
That day's VIP? Kim Hoyoung himself. Guards showed Wataru's photo: "Know this guy?"
Exposed as no Superior Citizen, the ordinary Wagatsuma family was dragged before Kim Hoyoung.
Forced to kneel as one.