Art came from life.
Of course, by now, many so-called avant-garde artists had ignored this ironclad rule, playing postmodern movements that floated upon fantasy.
It was only after entering university that Kitahara Ayano realized her experiences in the real world were severely lacking. If she kept joining her classmates' circles to create self-indulgent or purely commercial works, she feared she would never complete the work of her dreams, even by the end of her artistic career.
What she sought was a subtle beauty that walked the edge—one that brought intense spiritual pleasure while leaving people endlessly savoring it afterward.
The kind of tsundere emotion that made people reveal embarrassment or even disgust when discussing it, yet made them unable to resist revisiting and toying with it in private.
Yes, exactly.
The identity hidden beneath Kitahara Ayano's modest exterior, known only to herself, was that of a doujin artist.
When she first came into contact with this stuff, it was probably because, during puberty, she had fantasies about relationships between men and women. But with her strict upbringing and no romantic prospect who made her heart flutter, she entrusted those feelings to the virtual world.
Later, she delved deeper into its techniques and devoted herself to this great cause.
Technique had its limits after all. After gaining considerable popularity and becoming a somewhat renowned artist in the industry, Kitahara Ayano had hit her bottleneck.
She had to enrich her experiences in real life to break through it.
Yet she had little free time left. Her parents could at most give her another year or two before she had to begin taking over the gallery business.
Dealing in art and creating art were two entirely different things.
It was a path Kitahara Ayano hated but had no choice but to take. She was not some naive Young Lady who pursued so-called freedom without caring about consequences. Everything she had enjoyed from childhood until now came from her family's wealth and status. Since she had accepted those benefits, she had to carry on the family business. On a broader scale, it was a kind of social contract. The constraints of society's contract bound everyone; they could not be violated on a whim.
Her only option was to use the time she had been granted after returning home to fulfill her wish.
Fortunately, by a twist of fate, Kitahara Ayano had gained the supernatural power of Time Stop and selected the perfect prey.
Kiyoharu Chihaya.
Speaking of perfection.
Some might think the fact that Kiyoharu-kun already had a wife was a flaw.
Kitahara Ayano, on the contrary, considered it an essential element of perfection—maintaining a superficial relationship with a Young Lady for mysterious purposes, only to be lured by his fiancée's best friend and step by step buried in the abyss of depravity...
Yes, that was art.
Scratch, scratch, scratch...
The sound of an electronic pen rubbing against a high-end drawing tablet drifted continuously through the private office.
She had to thank Airi for arranging a place where she could create without interruption and gather material on Kiyoharu.
Inspiration kept bursting forth as draft after draft rapidly took shape.
Kitahara Ayano possessed extraordinary artistic talent and a formidable foundation. She could easily handle every sort of style.
More than an hour passed. Having poured out all her inspiration, Kitahara Ayano stretched beneath the warm sunlight filtering through the curtains, her exquisite, graceful curves drawing the eye.
She lowered her head to glance at her phone. Airi had sent her a message, complaining about the opposition on the board of directors. They opposed everything simply for the sake of opposing it, regardless of whether it hindered the company's smooth operations.
A sour, aching sensation suddenly struck her heart. Kitahara Ayano rubbed her chest and sent Airi a perfunctory message of comfort.
She was not as self-righteous as she appeared before Kiyoharu.
Or rather—
Kitahara Ayano had always been a rule-abiding lady from a distinguished family. From childhood to adulthood, she had rarely done anything improper. Yet this time, betraying her best friend and seducing her husband was truly madness.
She could only keep consoling herself: Kiyoharu lived a miserable life without love or anyone to care for him. She was Kiyoharu's savior.
It was time for lunch break.
Most students at Chihaya Academy were accustomed to coming to some part of the campus with friends to eat the boxed lunches prepared at home.
Behind an exquisite boxed lunch lay thorough preparation and a considerate full-time mother. It was also part of the competition.
At this aristocratic high school, competition was everywhere.
Kiyoharu was more accustomed to casually grabbing something to get through lunch, since he had to cook dinner himself at night.
Bread, sandwiches, or rice balls, paired with a drink from a vending machine.
That was how Kiyoharu had lived ever since he himself had been in high school.
Back then, Kiyoharu, whose family was poor, had often been mocked by his peers for being stingy. Now, the exact same behavior was regarded by teachers and students as the virtue of frugality.
There was no such thing as stinginess or frugality. He simply found it troublesome.
Airi would never set foot in the kitchen to cook. If he wanted to bring a boxed lunch, Kiyoharu would have to prepare it himself, which would cut into his already limited morning exercise time. Not ideal.
Holding two of his favorite salmon salad rice balls and a can of oolong tea, Kiyoharu arrived at Kitahara Ayano's private office as promised.
She was opening an enormous Japanese-style wooden lunchbox, and the mingled fragrance of several dishes washed over him.
"There's quite a lot here. Kiyoharu-kun, you can have some too," Kitahara Ayano invited him.
"Joining you is fine, but I'll pass on eating." Kiyoharu glanced over the contents of the lunchbox. It was a classic Japanese boxed lunch. No matter how luxurious it was, it was still a Japanese boxed lunch. In Kiyoharu's eyes, it was not much different from rice balls.
It could not compare to Chinese cuisine in the slightest.
"Everyone says Kiyoharu-kun's lunch is minimalist, but in reality, it's because Kiyoharu-kun's fiancée can't fulfill her duties..."
"Who told you her duty is to make me boxed lunches? Airi is an outstanding independent woman!"
This punch could grind even the Great Dao into nothingness. Could you take it?
Kiyoharu thought righteously.
Airi's duty was to make Kiyoharu money and fill Kiyoharu's wallet. In that regard, Airi had never failed.
"There is absolutely no problem with the relationship between Airi and me. I ask that Miss Kitahara stop trying to drive a wedge between us," Kiyoharu added. He then opened a rice ball and took a bite, washing it down with chilled canned oolong tea. It was not an amazing flavor, but it was refreshing and not greasy.
Kitahara Ayano looked at Kiyoharu. Her gaze showed no discouragement; instead, her voice was brimming with patience. "Here with me, Kiyoharu-kun, you don't need to care about the... arrangement between you and Airi? If there is one. Just be yourself. Aren't lovers meant to fall in love?"
"Hehe."
"Kiyoharu-kun already agreed to be my boyfriend."
"But I never agreed to let you be my girlfriend. So, Miss Kitahara, if you want to fall in love, go ahead. I'll hold myself back."
"..."
What an utterly unyielding blockhead!
"Of course, if Miss Kitahara needs any proper help, I'll lend you a hand as Airi's fiancé. For example, actually fixing your computer, or perhaps, hmm, the 'Ultimate Masterpiece'? I heard from Hitomi Shimamura that when Miss Kitahara attended my lectures, you sketched scenes from the classroom. If you need me as a model, I have no problem with that."
Kiyoharu spoke casually, seemingly without concern, while discreetly watching the changes in Kitahara Ayano's expression.
Because of that video, Kiyoharu would inevitably be forced to carry on an affair with Ayano for a considerable period of time.
To counter her, Kiyoharu hoped to uncover information about the "Ultimate Masterpiece." That useless damn system could not obtain information through scanning or exchanging Energy Points, so he could only probe for it himself.
Sure enough, faint ripples stirred in those moist eyes.
"Kiyoharu-kun is interested in being a model?"
"To be honest, I am a little interested, but it has to be legitimate modeling, and I can't take off my clothes... Speaking of which, Miss Kitahara has always been a lady with a strict upbringing. I assume you don't need nude models either?"
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