The Progeny Academy: Master of the Elite

The opposite side of the shopping district was a jarring contrast to the chaos Jun had left behind. While the main plaza was a sea of screaming fans and fluttering placards, this sector was an oasis of hushed elegance. The architecture here was more minimalist, with wide, open boulevards lined with high-end boutiques and manicured zen gardens. Because Sora and Hana had effectively acted as magnets, drawing the vast majority of the student body toward them, the streets were unusually quiet.

Jun walked with a steady, relaxed stride, flanked by Mei and Akane. The silence was comfortable, a rare moment of peace in a life that had become increasingly loud.

Akane, walking slightly behind him, looked around at the empty storefronts. “It’s remarkably quiet over here, Jun-sama,” she noted, her voice soft. “It seems Sora-sama and Hana-chan have successfully monopolized the crowd.”

“It’s better this way,” Jun replied. “I didn’t come here to be a spectacle.” He paused, glancing at Akane. “Actually, Akane… you can stop calling me ‘Jun-sama.’ Just call me Jun.”

Akane stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening. In the rigid hierarchy of Japanese society—and especially within the Hanzo family—dropping honorifics was a monumental shift. To call someone by their name without a title was a sign of extreme intimacy, a bridge crossing from the role of servant to that of a true partner.

A soft, rosy hue dusted her cheeks. She looked down, her heart fluttering. “I… I would be honored,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly with a mixture of shyness and joy. “Thank you… Jun.”

Jun gave her a small, approving nod. He then turned to Mei, who was walking with her usual detached grace. “The same goes for you, Mei. No need for the formalities with me.”

Mei didn’t even blink. She didn’t blush or stammer; she simply gave a flat, neutral nod. “Understood, Jun,” she replied. Her voice remained as cool as ever, but there was a subtle softening in her gaze. For Mei, the lack of honorifics wasn’t a romantic gesture; it was a strategic alignment. She was no longer just a candidate; she was becoming part of his inner circle.

They continued their walk until they reached the Tsukamoto Group’s flagship store. The building was a masterpiece of glass and chrome, reflecting the blue sky above. As they stepped inside, the air-conditioned chill hit them, smelling of ozone and expensive perfume.

The store clerk, a young woman in a sharp uniform, looked up and immediately froze. Her eyes widened as she recognized Jun. In this world, a male Prime Candidate was a rarity, a high-value asset whose presence could boost a store’s prestige for a month. She began to straighten her posture, preparing a formal, overly rehearsed greeting.

However, as her gaze shifted to the woman standing behind Jun, she stopped. She recognized the sharp, disciplined aura of Akane. The clerk realized that this wasn’t just a casual visit; it was a high-level transaction. She quickly signaled a colleague, who hurried to the back to alert the manager.

“Welcome to the Tsukamoto Group,” the clerk said, her voice now shaking slightly with nerves. “How may we assist you today, Prime Jun? And… ladies.”

Akane stepped forward, her expression stoic. She didn’t need a title to command respect; her posture did it for her. “We are here to collect a package for Sora-sama,” she stated, her voice echoing with an authority that left no room for questions.

The manager, a woman in her late thirties with a severe bun and a professional suit, emerged from the office. She bowed deeply to Jun. “A pleasure to see you, Prime Jun. Your package has been prepared and is waiting for you.”

The clerk hurried to the back and returned with a sleek, obsidian-black box. Inside, nestled in velvet, were six state-of-the-art mobile devices. They were the pinnacle of Tsukamoto technology—slept-thin, with holographic interfaces and encrypted lines that could bypass almost any network on the island. They came in various muted, elegant colors.

Jun reached in and picked up the silver one. He checked the specs, noting the seamless integration and the proprietary OS. He had already discussed this with Sora; he wanted a private, encrypted group messaging system for himself and his women. In a world of surveillance and political maneuvering, having a “black box” for communication was a strategic necessity.

Mei reached in and picked the purple device, while Akane chose the black one.

“Please pack the rest for the others,” Akane instructed the clerk. Once the transaction was finalized and the devices were secured, the trio stepped back out into the afternoon sun.

As they walked, Jun glanced at Mei. He noticed that her pace had slowed. “Is there anywhere else you want to go, Mei? Or are you tired of the walking?”

“I have no plans,” Mei replied, her voice sounding a bit more strained than usual.

Suddenly, Mei stumbled. A sharp, sudden gasp escaped her lips, and she swayed to the side, her balance vanishing. Jun’s reflexes were instantaneous; he reached out and caught her by the waist, pulling her firmly against his chest before she could hit the pavement.

“Mei? What’s wrong?” Jun asked, his voice laced with concern.

Mei didn’t answer immediately. She leaned into him, her face turning a pale, ghostly white. She had a sudden, throbbing headache that felt like a needle piercing her temple, and a wave of nausea washed over her.

As Jun held her, his gaze drifted down. He noticed a small, dark crimson spot on the fabric of her light-colored pants. His “Pro” intuition kicked in instantly. He didn’t need to ask; he knew the signs.

“Your period,” Jun whispered, his voice low so that the few passersby couldn’t hear. He felt her tremble in his arms, a mixture of embarrassment and physical pain crossing her features.

Jun didn’t hesitate. He shifted his grip, lifting Mei up in a sudden, effortless carry.

“Akane,” Jun commanded, his voice firm. “Go back to the car. Now.”

Akane didn’t ask questions. Seeing Mei’s state and Jun’s urgent expression, she turned and sprinted back toward the vehicle, her ninja-trained speed making her a blur.

Jun looked down at Mei, whose eyes were hazy with pain. As he pulled her closer, Mei felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of relief. The sharp, throbbing pressure in her temples didn’t vanish, but it softened, the edges of the pain blurring as she was enveloped in his scent. It was a familiar, comforting aroma—a mix of clean skin and a subtle, masculine warmth that acted like a powerful sedative to her heightened senses. Reflexively, she leaned in, pressing her forehead against his chest and closing her eyes, her body seeking the safety of his embrace.

He didn’t take her back to the car; instead, he scanned the immediate area and spotted a nearby clothing boutique. He began to carry her toward the store, his mind already calculating the fastest way to get her the supplies she needed and a place to clean up.

As they approached the storefront, Jun noticed the branding. It was a high-end Korean label, a brand he had worked with extensively in his previous life. His face had been the centerpiece of their global advertising campaigns, and his name was still whispered with reverence in the corporate offices of the brand’s headquarters.

The moment Jun stepped through the door, the atmosphere in the store shifted. The staff, who had been attending to a few wealthy clients, stopped in their tracks. The manager, a sharp-eyed woman in her late thirties, looked up and nearly dropped her tablet. Her eyes widened in shock, then immediately transitioned into a look of profound respect.

“Prime Jun!” the manager exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine excitement. “I cannot believe you’re here! We’ve missed your presence in our campaigns. Welcome to our boutique.”

Jun didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He looked at the manager, his expression calm but urgent. “I need a private fitting room immediately. My companion isn’t feeling well.”

The manager didn’t hesitate for a second. “Of course! Right this way.” She stepped forward, personally guiding Jun through the store, bypassing the public displays and leading him straight toward the VIP lounge and the private fitting suites.

As they walked, Jun glanced back at the entrance. “My associate, Akane, will be arriving shortly,” he informed the manager. “Please ensure she is guided directly to the fitting room as soon as she enters. I trust you can handle the arrangements for her and Mei.”

“Consider it done, Prime Jun,” the manager replied with a confident nod. “We will provide everything necessary. Your comfort and the comfort of your companions are our absolute priority.”

Jun carried Mei into the plush, velvet-lined privacy of the fitting suite, the heavy door clicking shut behind them. For the first time in an hour, the noise of the shopping district vanished, leaving only the sound of their breathing and the intimate heat of their bodies.