Chapter 51: The Purists’ Pride
The atmosphere in the East Wing’s private lounge was thick with a mixture of expensive incense and palpable arrogance. Here, the Japanese elite gathered—not just the students, but the legacy of the Corporate Shogunate. Among them sat the Japanese Prime Candidates, men who viewed themselves as the apex of the Academy’s social pyramid. They spoke in low, measured tones, but the air around them was charged with a rigid, almost suffocating sense of superiority.
At the center of the group was a Prime from the Kyoto nobility, a man whose family had held power for generations. He leaned back in his velvet chair, his expression one of profound disappointment.
“It is a tragedy, really,” the Kyoto Prime remarked, his voice dripping with a condescending smoothness. “Sora Tsukamoto was the crown jewel of the Japanese elite. The pinnacle of grace, status, and purity. And yet, she has allowed herself to be claimed by a non-Japanese. It is not just a personal choice; it is a blow to the prestige of our entire region.”
As he spoke, several of the other Primes nodded in agreement, but the atmosphere in the room shifted abruptly when one of the younger candidates let out a sharp, strangled gasp. He was staring at his phone, his face turning a ghostly shade of pale.
“What is it?” the Kyoto Prime snapped, glancing over.
“My account…” the young man stammered, his voice trembling. “My forum account… and my streaming profile. They’ve all been suspended. I can’t log in. It says ‘Account Terminated due to Breach of Corporate Conduct’!”
Suddenly, a ripple of shock went through the group. One by one, the other Primes checked their devices, and the sounds of disbelief filled the lounge. Their accounts—the platforms they used to boast, network, and laught at others—had been wiped clean in a single, coordinated strike.
But the blow didn’t stop at their digital lives. A few moments later, several of the candidates received urgent, frantic messages from their parents. The Tsukamoto Group had begun applying immense, silent pressure on their family businesses. Supply chains were being “reviewed,” contracts were being delayed, and sudden “administrative errors” were causing losses for the families of those who had been the most vocal critics of Sora’s pairing.
It was a clinical, cold-blooded retaliation. Sora hadn’t sent a letter or made a public statement; she had simply used the machinery of her family’s corporate empire to erase their presence and squeeze their livelihoods.
The Kyoto Prime slammed his phone onto the table, his face contorting with rage. “How dare she! To use her family’s influence to silence us over a few comments? This is an abuse of power!”
But the other Primes were now looking at each other with genuine anxiety. They had spent the morning talking about “purity” and “honor,” but they were quickly realizing that in the real world, honor didn’t pay the bills—corporate power did. Sora had effectively sent a message to the entire Japanese elite: You can judge me in private, but if you attack me publicly, I will make sure you pay for it.
The “Purists” were no longer just debating a tragedy; they were now victims of the very “Iron Lady” they claimed had fallen from grace.
However, not everyone in the room shared this blind devotion to purity. Standing among the female candidates—women from rival corporate families and clans who had long competed with the Tsukamoto Group—the reaction was far more complex.
One of the women, a sharp-eyed daughter of a rival electronics conglomerate, watched the Prime with a mixture of disgust and amusement. She found the Prime’s attitude insuffering; he spoke as if the women were mere assets to be managed, treating their “purity” as a metric of his own status. She despised the way he looked down on Sora, yet her own competitive nature was screaming.
Let them play at being purists, she thought, her gaze narrowing. While they worry about bloodlines, I can use this. If Sora is ‘tainted’ in the eyes of the elite, her influence in the corporate world might waver. The Tsukamoto Group’s grip on the electronics industry is absolute, but every empire has a crack. If we can frame Sora’s devotion to Jun as a weakness, we can put pressure on her family. We can take what is hers.
The discussion grew more heated as the Primes began to debate the “correct” way to handle such a breach of tradition. Some suggested that Sora should be publicly reprimanded, others argued that her “lapse” should be used as a lesson for other candidates. The room had become a pressure cooker of entitlement and rigid expectations.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the lounge swung open. A female student, breathless and clutching a tablet, rushed in.
“News!” she announced, her voice cutting through the debate. “The administration has just confirmed it. Sora Tsukamoto’s first encounter with Jun… the footage is being put into the cinema screenings as requested by the student body!”
The room exploded.
The Kyoto Prime slammed his hand onto the table, his face contorting in a mixture of shock and rage. “A public screening?! That is an outrage! To expose the intimacy of a high-born woman to the masses… it’s practically scandalous! This is a disgrace to the Japanese elite!”
He immediately began rallying the other Primes, calling for a boycott of the screenings. “We should refuse to attend! We should demand that the Academy restrict the footage! We cannot allow the ‘purity’ of our region to be treated as a spectacle for the common students!”
But while the Primes were shouting about pride and purity, the women in the room were thinking of something entirely different: curiosity.
The “Purist” rhetoric didn’t move them. Instead, they were captivated by the idea of seeing Jun’s prowess. They had heard the whispers—the rumors of his exceptional virility and the way Sora had been completely undone by him. For these women, the screening wasn’t a disgrace; it was an opportunity.
I want to see it, the rival conglomerate’s daughter thought, a flicker of genuine desire crossing her face. I want to see exactly how he ‘wrecked’ her. If he can make the Iron Lady of the Tsukamoto Group submit like that, then he is a man worth knowing. And if I can find a way to get his attention, I won’t just be taking a corporate victory—I’ll be taking the most powerful man in the Academy.
As the Primes continued their loud, indignant rant about purity and honor, a different kind of energy began to ripple through the women in the room. They began to huddle together in small, tight circles, their voices dropping to hurried, secretive whispers.
“Are you going?” one girl whispered, her eyes darting toward the Kyoto Prime to make sure he wasn’t listening. “I heard the footage is… visceral. Not just a ‘first time,’ but a complete demolition of her composure.”
“Of course I’m going,” another replied, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. “But I can’t be seen attending openly. If my family finds out I’m ‘hunting’ for a Prime’s footage, they’ll think I’ve lost my poise. I’m thinking of going incognito—maybe using a disguise or sneaking in through the side entrance.”
“Is that even possible?” a third girl asked, her curiosity overriding her hesitation. “The cinema is strictly monitored. But honestly, who cares about the rules? If the ‘Iron Lady’ is really as spent as the rumors say, I need to know what kind of man can do that. It’s not just about the sex; it’s about the power dynamic.”
The conversation shifted into a strategic discussion of logistics. Some women discussed the merits of wearing oversized glasses and hats to blend in, while others debated whether it was better to go in a large group for “safety” or alone to avoid drawing attention. The air was thick with a competitive tension; they weren’t just planning to watch a video; they were planning a reconnaissance mission.
They looked at the fuming Primes with a mixture of pity and boredom. While the men were fighting over the “shame” of a non-Japanese pairing, the women were treating the event like a high-stakes intelligence gathering operation. They wanted to study Jun’s “technique,” analyze Sora’s reactions, and ultimately, figure out the best way to insert themselves into Jun’s orbit.
For these women, the “Purist” ideology was a relic of the past. The real currency was desire and power, and they were all preparing to bet everything on a single screening.
The lounge was now split in two. On one side, the Primes were fuming, their faces red with a perceived loss of honor. On the other, the women were calculating, their minds racing with strategies to manipulate the situation to their advantage.
As the shouting continued, the divide became clear. The Primes were fighting for a ghost of the past, while the women were looking toward a future where Jun was the ultimate prize.