Chapter 11: Sora’s Cold Decree
The transition from the sanctuary of Jun’s residence to the elite residential wing of the Academy was a shift in atmosphere. Here, the buildings were architectural marvels of white marble and gold, reserved for the women who stood at the absolute peak of status and talent.
Sora stepped into her private suite, the doors gliding open automatically. The room was vast, a masterclass in minimalist luxury, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the shimmering city of the Academy. As she entered, three women in crisp, black-and-white uniforms bowed in perfect unison.
“Welcome back, Sora-sama,” they greeted her in a synchronized voice.
Sora didn’t stop to chat. She walked toward the center of the room, her expression shifting. The softness she had worn for Jun had vanished, replaced by a cold, calculated precision. She was no longer the blushing girl; she was the authority.
“The two women from the landing zone,” Sora said, her voice sharp and devoid of emotion. “Have they been… processed?”
A young woman stepped forward. This was Akane, Sora’s primary aide. She was a year younger than Sora, with a sharp, observant gaze and a posture that spoke of rigorous training. While she wore the attire of a maid, her movements were those of a predator. Akane, along with the other women in the room, were not merely servants; they were a highly trained intelligence and security team, skilled in the arts of stealth and combat.
“Yes, Sora-sama,” Akane replied, her voice steady. “They are awaiting your final word in the annex.”
Sora nodded and followed Akane into a side room. As the door opened, the scene inside was a stark contrast to the luxury of the main suite.
The two women from the landing zone were there. They were no longer wearing their proud academy uniforms. They were completely naked, their pale skin contrasting sharply with the dark leather of the restraints. They were bound in intricate shibari, their legs pulled wide and their hands tied tightly behind their backs. Their mouths were gagged with silk strips, reducing their protests to muffled, desperate sounds.
On their cheeks, the faint, reddish imprints of Sora’s grip from the tarmac were still visible—a lingering mark of her dominance.
Sora stopped in front of them, her expression one of utter boredom. She produced a folding fan from her sleeve and snapped it open with a sharp clack.
“Remove the gags,” Sora commanded.
Akane stepped forward and untied the silk. The moment they were free, the women exploded.
“You arrogant bitch!” the first woman shrieked, her face twisting in rage. “Who do you think you are to treat us like this? We are from the most influential families in the region! You can’t just lock us in a room and bind us like animals!”
“You pretend to be so innocent in front of the Candidate,” the second woman spat, her eyes flashing with hatred. “Playing the sweet, devoted little guide while you act like a tyrant behind his back. He wouldn’t even like you if he knew how cold-hearted you really are!”
Sora didn’t flinch. She didn’t even look at them. She simply fluttered her fan, her gaze fixed on the far wall.
“Your families are irrelevant here,” Sora replied, her voice a chilled, monotone drone. “The Academy values results, and in the eyes of the Prime Candidate, you are nothing more than background noise. I have already won the competition to be Jun-sama’s first partner. He has accepted me. He has claimed me. There is simply no room for the likes of you in his circle.”
“You can’t just decide that!” the first woman yelled. “Our mothers will hear about this! They won’t stay quiet about their daughters being treated this way!”
Sora finally turned to look at them. Her eyes were cold, void of the warmth she reserved for Jun. “Let them shout. The Tsukama name carries more weight in this city than your entire lineage combined. If your mothers wish to complain, they can do so through the proper corporate channels. I assure you, they will find that I am far more expensive to fight than I am to appease.”
She stepped closer, the tip of her fan lifting the chin of the first woman.
“And let’s be honest,” Sora whispered, her voice dripping with contempt. “You are both third-years. You’ve had three years to secure a partner, and yet here you are—unsatisfied, desperate, and still without a child. You are nothing more than dirty sluts who let their time slip away. Women like you, who can’t even manage their own basic desires, are not allowed anywhere near Jun-sama.”
The women gasped, their faces flushing with a mixture of shame and fury. They tried to speak, to argue, but Sora had already lost interest.
“Enough,” Sora commanded. “I’m bored of this conversation.”
She looked at Akane and the other maids. “Gag them again. Send them back to their families. Tell them that any further ‘interference’ with Jun-sama’s guide will be dealt with… less formally.”
Akane and the other women moved with clinical efficiency. They stepped forward, silencing the women with fresh gags and beginning the process of hauling them out of the room.
As the doors closed on the muffled protests of the two women, Sora stood alone in the silence. She closed her fan with a decisive snap and let out a long, slow breath.
The “Iron Lady” was still there, but as she thought of Jun, her expression softened. The ruthless strategist vanished, and the devoted woman returned. She thought of the way he had looked at her, the way he had touched her, and the way he had called her his “first.”
Sora smiled to herself. She would protect that position with everything she had. She would be the perfect guide, the perfect partner, and the perfect slave. Because in the world of the Academy, power was everything—and for the first time in her life, Sora had found something she valued more than her own power.
She had found Jun.