Misaki Takahashi slumped over his cluttered desk in the modest living room of his home, the dim light of a single lamp casting harsh shadows over a report card that might as well have been written in blood. His grades were a disaster, a jagged line of failure that threatened to shred his dreams of college before they even began. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his messy brown hair. “How am I this bad at everything? I’m a walking catastrophe.”
The front door swung open with a creak, shattering the silence. Misaki’s older brother, Takahiro, strolled in, his laughter bright and carefree as it bounced off the walls. Trailing behind him was a tall, silver-haired man whose presence seemed to suck the air out of the room. Akihiko Usami, with his chiseled features and a tailored suit that screamed money, had his arm slung around Takahiro’s shoulder in a way that felt far too familiar. Misaki froze, his pen slipping from his fingers as his jaw dropped. The lingering glances between the two men, the subtle brush of Akihiko’s fingers against Takahiro’s arm—it was too much. His brain short-circuited, a thousand questions exploding in his mind. *What the hell is this? Since when is my brother... cozy with some fancy creep?*
Takahiro, blissfully unaware of Misaki’s internal meltdown, grinned wide. “Yo, Misaki! Meet Akihiko Usami, an old buddy of mine from way back. And guess what? He’s gonna be your tutor for those entrance exams!”
Misaki’s eyes narrowed, his gaze slicing through Akihiko like a knife. Everything about this guy screamed trouble—those sharp violet eyes, that smug tilt of his lips, the way he carried himself like he owned the world. Misaki’s gut churned with suspicion. *Tutor, my ass. This guy looks like he’d rather sell me on the black market than teach me algebra.*
Akihiko caught Misaki’s glare and smirked, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. “Well, well, Takahashi junior. I hear you’re in dire need of some... discipline. Don’t worry, I’m quite good at whipping boys into shape.” His eyes glinted with mischief, and Misaki felt his cheeks flare with irritation, his hands balling into fists under the desk.
“Excuse me?” Misaki snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. “I don’t need some pretty boy in a suit talking down to me like I’m a kid. I can handle my own problems.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Akihiko drawled, leaning casually against the wall, his gaze raking over Misaki in a way that made his skin crawl. “But handling and *succeeding* are two very different things, aren’t they? Lucky for you, I’m generous with my time.”
Misaki grit his teeth, biting back a retort as Takahiro clapped him on the shoulder, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. “Come on, Misaki, give him a chance! Akihiko’s brilliant. You’ll be acing those exams in no time. I’ve gotta run, but you two play nice, yeah?” With a cheerful wave, Takahiro was out the door, leaving Misaki to stew in a potent mix of distrust and resentment.
“Fine,” Misaki muttered under his breath, shooting Akihiko a withering look. “But don’t think for a second I’m happy about this.”
Akihiko’s grin widened, predatory and infuriating. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
---
The scene shifted to Akihiko’s upscale apartment, a world of sleek lines and modern decadence that made Misaki feel like a peasant storming a palace. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city skyline, while minimalist furniture in shades of black and chrome screamed wealth. Misaki couldn’t help but gawk, his envy battling with his annoyance as he stood awkwardly in the center of the living room. *Who even lives like this? This guy’s probably a secret mob boss or something.*
“Make yourself at home,” Akihiko called from somewhere down the hall, his voice laced with amusement. “I’ll be right back with some materials.”
“Yeah, sure,” Misaki grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes wandered the room, landing on a book left carelessly on the glass coffee table. The cover was plain, unassuming, but something about it tugged at his curiosity, like forbidden fruit dangling just out of reach. *What kind of nerd leaves books lying around like this? Probably some boring lit textbook.*
Unable to resist, Misaki snatched it up and flipped it open. His eyes widened in horror as the words on the page seared into his brain. Explicit scenes, raw and unfiltered, spilled across the paper—scenes featuring characters that were unmistakably based on Takahiro and Akihiko himself. Misaki’s stomach churned with outrage, his hands trembling as he slammed the book shut. *What the actual hell? This pervert wrote... this filth about my brother?! Who does that?!*
His mind raced with disgust and confusion, a storm of emotions threatening to drown him. Fueled by righteous anger, Misaki stormed down the hall toward Akihiko’s room, his heart pounding in his chest. *This creep is gonna answer for this. I don’t care how rich or pretty he is, I’m not letting this slide.*
He burst through the door without knocking, only to freeze at the sight before him. Akihiko was sprawled on his bed, his shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of toned chest that looked like it belonged in a scandalous magazine spread. His silver hair was tousled, his posture lazy and inviting, as if he’d just rolled out of a dream—or a nightmare.
Akihiko sat up slowly, completely unfazed by the intrusion. His lips curled into a wicked grin, his voice dripping with amusement. “Ah, Misaki. I’m guessing you’ve read my little masterpiece. What did you think? Too tame, or just spicy enough?”
Misaki’s face burned, his words tripping over themselves as he struggled to find his footing between fear and fury. “Y-You sick bastard! How dare you write that garbage about my brother?! What’s wrong with you?!”
Akihiko rose from the bed with a fluid grace that made Misaki’s pulse spike. He closed the distance between them in a few deliberate steps, his violet eyes glinting with a predatory edge. “Oh, come now,” he purred, his voice low and dangerous. “It’s just fiction. A little fantasy never hurt anyone. Or are you more upset that it made you... curious?”
Misaki’s back hit the doorframe, his breath catching as Akihiko loomed over him, the air between them charged with something he couldn’t name. “S-Stay away from me, you creep!” he stammered, but his voice lacked the conviction he wanted.
Akihiko tilted his head, his smile sharp enough to cut. “Relax, Misaki. I’m not going to bite... unless you ask nicely. Now, shall we get back to studying? Or do you need a moment to process all those naughty thoughts running through your head?”
Trapped between the door and a very dangerous situation, Misaki’s mind raced, his heart hammering as he realized this tutoring arrangement was about to get a whole lot more complicated.
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