Chapter 6: The Sound of Entitlement
The walk from the limousine to the main administration wing was a journey through a surreal landscape of opulence. The Academy’s architecture was a dizzying blend of futuristic glass and classical grandeur, with white marble walkways that seemed to glow under the soft, artificial light of the island’s atmospheric domes.
Sora walked beside Jun, her presence a silent, elegant shield. She didn’t speak much, but her gaze remained fixed on him, her eyes filled with a quiet, simmering affection. Every few steps, her shoulder would brush against his, a subtle, lingering contact that felt like a secret communication. To any observer, she was the perfect guide, but to Jun, she was a woman who was practically vibrating with the need to be near him.
They were led into the heart of the administrative spire, where the air grew cooler and the silence more profound. As they reached the double mahogany doors of the Principal’s office, they were met by a woman who looked as though she had stepped straight out of a high-fashion corporate catalog.
“Prime Candidate Jun,” the secretary greeted him, her voice crisp and professional. She was a striking woman in her late twenties, wearing a tailored charcoal-grey pencil skirt and a white blouse that was buttoned up to her throat, though the fabric strained slightly across her chest. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, severe bun, and her glasses gave her an air of intellectual detachment. “The Principal will see you in a moment. Please, follow me to the waiting lounge.”
Sora stepped aside, allowing the secretary to lead Jun into a small, luxurious waiting room adjacent to the main office. The room was furnished with velvet chairs and a low glass table, the walls adorned with gold-leafed art.
As the door clicked shut, Sora remained in the hallway, her eyes fixed on the closed door. She didn’t move; she simply stood there, her mind drifting.
Sora watched the way the secretary had interacted with Jun—the professional distance, the crisp movements, the understated authority of the attire. A strange, fluttering sensation stirred in Sora’s chest. She began to imagine herself in that role.
A secretary… she thought, her gaze softening. I wonder if Jun-sama likes that type of look?
In her mind’s eye, Sora saw herself not in her academy uniform, but in a tight, professional pencil skirt that hugged her hips and a white blouse that clung to her curves, perhaps with a pair of glasses perched on her nose. She imagined the look on Jun’s face if she were to surprise him, playing the part of a devoted, efficient secretary who happened to be utterly obsessed with her boss.
Maybe I could find a set of clothes like that, she mused, a small, shy smile playing on her lips. I could tell him I’m handling his ‘administrative needs.’ I wonder if he’d find it cute… or if he’d prefer it if I were a bit more… daring with the blouse.
The thought sent a jolt of heat through her. The idea of evolving her “service” for Jun—of finding new ways to please him and capture his interest—was intoxicating. She didn’t just want to be his guide; she wanted to be everything he could possibly desire.
Suddenly, the heavy silence of the hallway was shattered.
“This is absolute bullshit!”
The voice was loud, abrasive, and dripping with an arrogance that felt entirely out of place in the refined atmosphere of the spire. It was a boy’s voice, though it carried the tone of someone who believed the world revolved around him.
Sora stiffened, her expression returning to a mask of professional neutrality, though her eyes narrowed.
The voice was coming from inside the Principal’s office. Through the heavy doors, the dialogue became clearer.
“I was told this place was the pinnacle of the Academy!” the boy shouted, his voice echoing. “Why the hell do I only have one girl accompanying me? Look at the data! I’m a Prime Candidate too! I should have a full squad, not just one girl who can barely keep up with my status!”
A second voice responded. It was a woman’s voice—calm, cold, and possessing a weight of authority that made the boy’s shouting sound childish.
“Status is not granted by birth or by the luck of a genetic draw, Candidate,” the Principal replied. Her voice was measured, devoid of any warmth, yet it commanded absolute attention. “You are here because your data met the minimum requirements for entry. However, the Academy does not reward entitlement. Your ‘status’ in the outside world means nothing within these walls.”
“What do you mean ‘nothing’?” the boy snapped. “Do you know who my father is? He’s—”
“Your father is not the one being graded here,” the Principal interrupted, her tone turning ice-cold. “In this Academy, you are valued by your performance, your technique, and your ability to provide for the women under your care. If you cannot manage the one girl assigned to you, you will find that your ‘privileges’ are a very fragile thing indeed.”
Jun, sitting in the waiting room, listened to the exchange with a look of mild amusement. He had heard this tone before—the arrogance of a man who thought his biology was a crown. It was a common trait among those who had never had to work for the affection or respect of others.
Amateur, Jun thought, a smirk playing on his lips. He thinks the ‘Prime’ part of the title is a gift, not a responsibility.
Inside the office, there was a long, heavy silence. The boy seemed to be struggling to process the fact that his shouting hadn’t produced the result he wanted.
“Fine!” the boy finally barked, his voice sounding strained. “Whatever. I’ll show you. I’ll show all of you that I’m the only one here who actually knows what he’s doing.”
The sound of a chair scraping harshly against the floor echoed through the door. A moment later, the office door swung open with a violent crash.
A young man stormed out, his face twisted in a scowl. He was dressed in the academy uniform, but he wore it sloppily, his shirt untucked and his tie loosened. He didn’t even glance at Sora or the waiting room; he simply stomped past them, his footsteps heavy and angry.
“This place is a joke!” he yelled over his shoulder, his voice fading as he marched down the hallway. “I should be getting ten times the privilege just for being a boy!”
As the sound of his stomping disappeared into the distance, a heavy silence returned to the corridor.
Sora let out a soft, rhythmic sigh, her expression shifting back to one of quiet devotion as she looked toward the door of the waiting room. She didn’t care about the other candidates. To her, there was only one man in the entire Academy who mattered.
She gently knocked on the door of the waiting room, her voice returning to that sweet, melodic purr.
“Jun-sama… the Principal is ready to see you now.”