By the time the two of them found Akira again, the guests who had been gathered around him had already dispersed.
That was because he never let any conversation drag on too long, and everyone at the banquet was socially savvy.
Once they sensed that Akira wasn't interested in continuing, they'd take their leave while the mood was still pleasant, never forcing awkward small talk.
Eriri's father had also left. After all, there were other guests at the banquet—he couldn't just host Akira the whole time.
Akira had just lit a cigarette. When he saw the two of them approaching, he took a drag and quickly stubbed it out.
"No need to mind us, Mr. Akira," said Sawamura Sayuri with a cheerful smile.
"I'd rather not," Akira replied.
"I don't like smoking in front of non-smokers, especially women. If I'm unhealthy, that's my own problem. No need to endanger others. So, what brings you here?"
Sayuri didn't respond immediately. Instead, she glanced at the pack of cigarettes Akira had set on the table.
"When I saw the car you drove here, I was already thinking—you're unexpectedly… cute, but also unexpectedly modest?"
That question made Akira pause for a moment before replying, "I just think there's no need. A car, after all, is just a means of transportation.
As long as it works, it's fine.
And cigarettes—unless the quality difference is extreme or you're really into it, most people can't even tell the difference. Maybe I just care about different things."
"And what do you care about?"
This wasn't small talk—Sayuri was trying to get a read on Akira as a person, to find a breakthrough point in the conversation.
In situations like this, where both sides were unfamiliar, directly making a request would be foolish.
But the answer she got was completely unexpected.
"Kasumigaoka Utaha."
Eriri's eyes went wide.
Sayuri was clearly caught off guard as well. She had seen directness before, but never anything quite this blunt.
"Just now, Lord Asai told me she was upstairs. You're here for her too, aren't you?" Akira said calmly.
"But I'm sorry. Right now, the only thing I want… is her."
"You… you what…"
Eriri nearly exploded, but just barely remembered her mother's warning and held back the last word.
"Don't hold back. Go ahead and curse me," Akira said without a care.
"I don't have that kind of fragile pride. This is indeed taking advantage of someone in a bad position.
You could call it despicable.
Miss Sawamura, was it?
Judging from how agitated you are, I take it you're a friend of Kasumigaoka's. That gives you every right to scold me."
Though he gave permission, Eriri couldn't bring herself to do it.
She wasn't just unwilling—she was downright stunned by his shamelessness.
"So there really isn't any other condition you'd accept, Mr. Akira?" Sayuri pressed.
"Favors are too valuable. A future is too heavy. The only thing that can match it in weight… is something equally precious in moral value—her innocence."
Akira raised both hands outward like the arms of a scale.
"I won't deny there's desire on my part. That's my reason for being willing to enter a deal. The rest is just fair exchange. That's my rule, and I stick to it."
Sayuri nodded thoughtfully. "So Mr. Akira is someone who values rules."
"Of course. Everyone should carry a sense of reverence. You revere laws and social norms.
I revere karma and the heavens. If I had no regard for anything, no one would be willing to deal with me."
Akira never hid the fact that he operated under certain restraints.
On the contrary, he'd bring it up when possible. Just like he said—acknowledging his own limits wasn't exposing a weakness, but reassuring others and securing his own space to exist.
People created order out of chaos to reduce unnecessary deaths and increase shared benefits.
Like traffic rules—so long as everyone abides, you might waste some time at red lights, but you won't get killed or completely gridlocked.
But if someone runs red lights and speeds recklessly, everyone just wants them locked up.
That's why Akira always made it clear: he followed rules.
Otherwise, best-case, people would fear and avoid him; worst-case, they'd try to destroy him.
And if they couldn't destroy him, they'd just keep their distance and stop dealing with him.
Even Akira himself wouldn't want to associate with someone who had overwhelming power but no self-restraint—unless they were close and he trusted their bottom line.
"If—just hypothetically," Sayuri asked with some amusement, "if it were my Eriri facing a similar problem, would you make the same request?"
"No," Akira replied without hesitation.
That answer made Eriri feel like she'd found a breakthrough. But before she could say anything, Akira continued:
"Because you don't have anything I'm interested in that could serve as an equal trade. So I wouldn't get involved at all."
It took Eriri about ten seconds to slowly realize—she had just been completely rejected.
And to make it worse, her own mother showed a shameless side and added fuel to the fire: "That's wonderful, Eriri. It means you're perfectly safe."
Eriri was left stunned, standing motionless in the evening breeze.
Akira's lips twitched as he suppressed a laugh. He looked toward the mansion standing quietly in the darkness and suddenly asked, "How is Kasumigaoka doing?"
"You've got some nerve asking…" Eriri grumbled softly, recovering slightly.
Sayuri patted her daughter on the head and gently scolded,
"That's not nice, Eriri. Mr. Akira didn't do anything wrong.
He just offered an opportunity out of personal interest. At the very least, he gave Kasumigaoka a choice. Isn't that something?"
Eriri thought about it and realized that was kind of true—but the so-called "opportunity" still made her feel uncomfortable. She fell silent.
Seeing this, Sayuri answered for her.
"Kasumigaoka-san isn't doing very well. I gave her some hope when I shouldn't have, because I didn't fully understand the situation beforehand."
Akira understood what she meant—and felt a little bad.
If Utaha truly chose to put down her pen, he wouldn't interfere. Even if that means never having another chance with her, never crossing paths again.
He might covet, but he still wanted to be a decent person.
Not helping others was one thing—but pretending not to care was another. After all, desire still implied some level of affection.
"Alright then." Akira pulled out a cigarette but didn't light it—just held it in his hand.
"If Kasumigaoka-san can't agree to the deal, I really won't help her return to the path of being a novelist.
But… if she's willing to use a pen name and do some freelance game writing or similar work online—so long as her identity remains hidden—I won't let Lord Asai cause her any trouble."
"Wouldn't that break your rules?" Sayuri asked with a teasing smile.
"Rules are rigid. People are not. It's not crossing a moral line. A little flexibility isn't a problem,"
Akira replied without a care.
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