"Thank you for accepting our offer, Ito-kun," the woman said softly, her voice warm and melodic. "My sister would be overjoyed to know her son is safe, sound, and living well under our roof."
She was breathtaking—a gorgeous young woman with lustrous black-purplish hair cascading in an elegant style that perfectly framed her face and complemented the exquisite silk kimono clinging to her curves.
The fabric draped over her body in a way that highlighted her mature, voluptuous figure: full breasts straining gently against the material, a narrow waist flaring into wide hips that swayed with every refined step.
She radiated a gentle, motherly aura, yet there was an effortless sensuality in her movements, a ripe charm that made it impossible not to imagine how soft her skin would feel under that kimono.
She looked like Eriri grown into full womanhood—the same delicate, striking features, but softened and enriched by years, her beauty deepened into something intoxicating, almost forbidden.
We were seated in the grand living room of their sprawling mansion, sunlight filtering through paper screens and casting warm patterns across the polished floors.
Her gentle gaze shifted from me to her daughter beside us.
"Please be sure to look after him, Eriri. Mind your manners. He is to be your brother now," Sayuri Sawamura reminded, her tone gentle but carrying a firm, underlying sternness.
Eriri let out a short, dismissive huff.
"Of course I know that, Mother. Come with me," she said, turning to me with a proud tilt of her chin. "I'll introduce you to the interior of our house."
With that, she launched into a comprehensive tour, leading me through every notable location: the formal dining room, the spotless professional-grade kitchen, the multiple luxurious bathrooms, the various bedrooms, the meticulously curated garden, and finally, the expansive private parking lot.
She gestured proudly at the impressive collection of vehicles, a lineup spanning from pristine classic cars to the very latest models.
"If you ever want to drive one, you have to ask my mother for permission first," she instructed, a hint of superiority in her voice. "Or, if she says no, you can come to me. I'll take you out in one anyway."
"Okay…" I nodded, my response deliberately understated.
Seeing my lack of awe, Eriri's enthusiasm seemed to wane.
She didn't linger, instead steering me decisively toward my new quarters. She ushered me into a bedroom that was less a room and more a luxurious suite, spacious and opulently appointed.
"This is where you'll be sleeping, Cousin," she announced, her tone boastful as she watched for my reaction. "If you don't like it, just tell me. I'll have Mother arrange a different one for you."
"Yes, yes, you're very awesome, Eriri-chan," I replied, playing along.
I reached out and gave her the headpat I knew she was silently craving.
She immediately deadpanned, her cheeks tingeing with faint color. "I'm not a child. Don't touch my hair."
Her words were a clear protest, but her body betrayed her.
She didn't pull away.
In fact, she leaned into my hand almost imperceptibly, eyes half-lidding for a brief moment as she savored the familiar, comforting touch.
Her breathing slowed just a fraction, the proud facade cracking to reveal the spoiled, affection-starved girl underneath who secretly loved being treated like this—especially by me.
"Well, since you're already an adult and not a child… would you prefer a kiss instead, Eriri-chan?" I asked, my voice dripping with playful suggestion.
"W-What? A kiss…? With you, Cousin?!" Eriri took a sharp step back, her face flushing a deep, brilliant scarlet.
Then, as if a sudden, fiery memory ignited in her mind, she bared her teeth at me in a show of mock fury. "How dare you tease me like that, you jerk? Humph! I'll teach you that a woman shouldn't be played with so lightly!"
She didn't give me time to respond.
In a flash she closed the gap, her slender hands shooting up to seize my face with surprising strength.
Her fingers dug into my cheeks, thumbs pressing hard along my jaw as she yanked me down to her height. There was no shy request, no hesitant pause—just raw, possessive certainty.
Her lips crashed against mine, soft yet demanding, warm and slightly trembling with adrenaline.
The kiss wasn't gentle; it was hungry, almost aggressive.
She pressed harder, molding her mouth to mine with clumsy but desperate urgency, as if she needed to prove something.
Almost instantly I felt the slick, insistent push of her tongue against my lips, hot and impatient, demanding entry.
When I parted them—caught off guard by her boldness—she plunged inside without hesitation.
Her tongue swept into my mouth, restless and bold, tangling with mine in a messy, eager dance.
She explored every inch—sliding along the roof of my mouth, teasing the underside of my tongue, nipping lightly at my lower lip before diving back in.
The taste of her flooded me: faint strawberry from her lip balm, mixed with the pure, intoxicating warmth of her breath and saliva.
She made small, needy sounds in the back of her throat, little whimpers that vibrated against my lips as she pushed even closer.
Her body molded fully against mine—soft chest pressing into me, hips brushing, the rapid thud of her heartbeat hammering through her uniform against my own chest.
I could feel the heat radiating from her skin, the faint tremor in her thighs as she stood on her toes to keep the kiss going.
My hands found her waist instinctively, gripping the curve of her hips through the fabric, and she responded by arching into me, deepening the kiss until we were both breathless.
When we finally broke apart, it was with a wet, obscene sound.
A thick strand of saliva stretched between our swollen lips, glistening in the light before it snapped, leaving a thin trail dripping down her chin.
Her mouth was red and slick, eyes glazed with triumph and lingering arousal, chest heaving as she panted softly.
"Okay, Cousin. Thanks for the meal," she said, smiling with a triumphant, happy glow, as if what we had just done was the most natural thing in the world. "If you don't feel like going to school and want to rest for a while, just tell me. I'll take care of everything."
She gave her flat chest a confident, reassuring pat. In her world—a woman's world—this was just how things were. My academic diligence was irrelevant; a man's role was to be present, to be available, while the women around him managed the details of life.
From the moment I arrived at this mansion, I had already saved a slot for this particular route in my plans. That's why it didn't matter to me whether Eriri or Sayuri would be the first I conquered in the future.
The path was locked in; the order was just a delicious detail to savor later.
"Will you stay with me tonight, Eriri-chan?" I asked her, my voice a low invitation in the quiet of the room.
She bit her lip, a troubled look crossing her face. "Mother… she'll be furious. And I… I'm supposed to be studying. I need good grades so I can take over the family business someday."
I shifted closer, closing the distance between us.
She shivered as I took her hand and placed it flat against my chest, right over my heartbeat.
"Can you stay?" I repeated, the question more of a command, softened only by my thumb stroking her wrist.
She let out a frustrated, surrendering groan. "Ugh… Fine. Screw mother! I'll stay with you."
"Good," I nodded, a surge of dark satisfaction blooming in my chest.
I turned and lay back on the vast expanse of the bed, the sheets cool against my skin.
Without a moment of hesitation, Eriri followed, scrambling onto the mattress beside me.
She immediately settled in, leaning her shoulder snugly against my side, as if it were the most natural place in the world.
That earlier, aggressive kiss had been her declaration. In her mind, I was already hers—her lover, her claim. The formal labels didn't matter. It was the brutal, possessive logic of women in this twisted world, a truth I'd learned well from my previous, bloody loop.
I decided to test that claim, to press the advantage.
Rolling onto my side, I molded myself against her back, pulling her flush against me with an arm around her waist.
I buried my nose in her soft blonde hair and inhaled deeply — clean floral shampoo mixed with the warm, private scent of her skin.
My cock was already painfully hard, straining against my trousers. I let her feel it, pressing the thick ridge deliberately against the soft curve of her ass through the thin fabric of her pleated skirt.
Slow, rolling grinds — just enough friction to make my intention unmistakable.
My free hand slid up to cup one small breast through her crisp school blouse.
Even through layers of fabric I could feel how stiff her nipple already was.
I caught it between thumb and forefinger, rolling it slowly, then pinching just hard enough to make her gasp.
"I-Ito-kun…?" she gasped, arching into my touch. "This is… the first time a man has… taken the lead like this… I hope… I hope you'll only ever do this with me…"
"Only with you, Eriri-chan," I whispered hotly against the shell of her ear, my breath making her shudder. "You're the only one."
My hand drifted lower, slipping under the hem of her pleated skirt.
My fingers slid past the waistband of her panties, encountering the hot, slick proof of her arousal.
She was already soaked.
I traced her wet folds, then pushed a finger inside her tight, clenching heat.
She cried out, her body tensing.
"God… yes… please, Ito-kun, don't stop…!" she begged, her voice a ragged whisper.
I worked her with my fingers, curling them inside her, finding a rhythm that made her hips buck and her breath come in sharp, desperate pants.
I could feel her walls fluttering around my fingers, tightening as her climax gathered.
Then, with a choked, gasping cry, she came apart, squirting hard against my hand, the warm rush of it thoroughly soaking her panties and my fingers.
Spent and trembling, she went limp, melting back against my chest.
She turned her head, her eyes glazed and heavy-lidded, to look up at me. "Ito-kun…"
"Eriri-chan…" I murmured back.
Our gazes locked, raw heat and naked lust passing between us.
Without another word, our lips met in a deep, hungry kiss.
This time it was slower, more consuming than her earlier frantic attack—a mutual claiming, tongues tangling, tasting the salt of her sweat and the lingering sweetness on her lips.
When we finally broke apart, breathless, I simply closed my eyes, the wave of mental exhaustion hitting me like a physical blow. "Let's sleep now, Eriri-chan."
"Yes, Ito-kun…" she agreed, her voice soft and obedient.
She snuggled back against me, letting me hold her tightly from behind, my arm a possessive band across her waist.
The fatigue wasn't just from today.
It was the deep, soul-deep weariness from my first, failed route—the memory of a brutal, senseless end, hacked to death in my sleep by a woman whose face I never saw.
And so, with Eriri's steady breathing against my chest, I let the darkness claim me, hoping this loop would end wonderfully.