Chapter 17: Jun’s Stage
Saturday morning arrived with a heavy, electric tension that seemed to vibrate through the very walls of the mansion. For Jun, it was the start of a new game. For Sora, it was the culmination of a lifelong ambition and a terrifyingly intimate milestone.
The morning routine was a coordinated effort. Jun stood in the center of his dressing room, surrounded by Akane and two of the other maids. They worked with a quiet, disciplined professionalism, though the atmosphere was far from clinical. As they helped him into his dark blue academy uniform, the maids’ movements were careful, almost reverent.
Jun noticed the way their eyes would occasionally drift—a quick, stolen glance at the line of his chest or the strength of his shoulders. They were young women, and like Sora, they had been raised in a world where a man of Jun’s quality was the ultimate prize. Every time his skin brushed against their fingers, he could see a faint blush creep up their cheeks. They were professional, yes, but they were also human, and the magnetic pull of a Prime Candidate was a force that was hard to ignore.
Once he was dressed, Jun stepped out of the room, Akane following closely on his heels. He walked toward Sora’s suite, the click of his shoes on the hardwood echoing in the silence of the house. He knocked softly on her door.
When the door opened, Sora stood there, her breath hitching. She was wearing the standard academy uniform, the dark blue fabric hugging her voluptuous curves in a way that felt almost provocative. Her hair was perfectly styled, and her makeup was minimal, yet she looked more radiant than he had ever seen her. Her eyes were wide, shimmering with a mixture of anxiety and longing.
Jun didn’t say anything at first. He simply looked at her, his gaze slow and appreciative.
“You look beautiful, Sora,” he murmured, his voice a low, warm vibration. “Even in the same uniform, you somehow look… different today.”
Sora’s face exploded into a vivid crimson. She looked down, her fingers twisting at the fabric of her skirt. “I… I just wanted to look my best for you,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
Jun reached out, his hand finding hers and interlacing their fingers. He gave her hand a firm, reassuring squeeze. “Don’t be nervous. Just focus on me.”
Sora looked up, her heart hammering against her ribs. The security of his grip gave her the strength she needed. Together, they walked toward the Academy’s central meeting hall, their hands locked tight, a silent pact of devotion and desire.
As they entered the grand hall, the atmosphere shifted. The room was vast, with high vaulted ceilings and rows of obsidian chairs. Several other Prime Candidates had already arrived, each accompanied by their assigned guide. The air was thick with a competitive, almost hostile energy.
Jun took his seat in one of the designated chairs, Sora sliding into the seat directly behind him. As the remaining candidates filtered in, the room reached its full capacity. There were ten of them in total—ten men who held the keys to the future of the world’s elite.
Jun could feel the eyes on him immediately. He didn’t look around, but he could sense the judgment. Most of the candidates were eyeing each other, calculating their strengths and weaknesses. But a few of them were radiating open hostility.
Specifically, the candidates from the Japanese delegation were staring at him with a mixture of envy and resentment. To them, Jun wasn’t just a competitor; he was a thief. Sora Tsukamoto was a legend in Japan—not just for her corporate power, but for her breathtaking beauty and status. Countless young men in Japan had spent their lives trying to leech off her influence, hoping to become her partner to secure their own standing. To see a “foreign” candidate paired with the crown jewel of Japanese elite was a bitter pill for them to swallow.
One candidate, a sharp-featured man with a haughty expression, let out a loud, audible scoff as he glanced at Jun. He looked as though he believed Jun was merely lucky, a fluke of genetics who didn’t deserve the prize of Sora’s companionship.
From the corner of his eye, Jun noticed another candidate—a blond man from the US. He wasn’t hostile; instead, he was watching Jun with a smirk, clearly amused by the target Jun had inadvertently painted on his back. He looked at Jun as if he were watching a gladiator enter an arena, enjoying the spectacle of the Japanese candidates’ frustration.
Jun remained unmoved. He didn’t feel the need to compete with them because he wasn’t playing their game. While they were focused on status and pride, Jun was focused on the woman sitting behind him.
The heavy doors at the front of the hall opened, and Principal Anastasia Morozov stepped onto the podium. She looked as commanding as ever, her crystalline blue eyes scanning the room with a cold, authoritative precision.
“Welcome, candidates,” Ana began, her voice echoing through the hall. “Today marks the beginning of your official integration into the Academy’s reproductive cycle. As you are all aware, the primary goal of this institution is the optimization of the human race. To that end, today’s objective is simple: each of you will engage in sexual intercourse with your guide.”
A ripple of tension went through the room. For some of the candidates, this was a moment of triumph; for others, it was a nerve-wracking test.
“As per Academy protocol,” Ana continued, her voice devoid of emotion, “the act will be recorded. A highlight reel of your first encounter will be archived and shared with the student body. This is not merely for the sake of curiosity, but for evaluation. The Academy expects a high standard of performance. Your chemistry, your virility, and your ability to satisfy your partner will be judged.”
She paused, her gaze lingering on the candidates. “I expect a healthy competition. Some of you may find that your interests overlap in the coming weeks, but for today, focus on the task at hand. Your guides have already explained the details. Do not embarrass yourselves.”
In front of each candidate, a small, silver key card appeared on the armrest of their chair.
“These cards will grant you access to your assigned private chambers,” Ana explained. “Once you enter, the doors will lock, and the recording will begin. I hope for your sake that your performance is… satisfactory. After all, the entire Academy is waiting to see who among you is truly a ‘Prime’.”
Jun looked down at the key card, then felt Sora’s hand tighten slightly on his shoulder from behind. She was trembling, her breath shallow. The reality of the situation had finally hit her—the intimacy, the vulnerability, and the knowledge that the world would be watching.
Jun reached back and patted her hand, a small, confident smile on his lips. He didn’t care about the judgment of the other students, nor did he care about the expectations of the Academy. He only cared about the woman behind him.
He picked up the key card, the cool metal feeling like a trigger. The game was no longer about introductions or catalogs. It was time to perform.