Sato Koichi’s life had no real ups or downs.
He worked at an electronics processing factory.
Every day repeated the same routine—go to work, go home, eat, sleep.
No family. No partner.
And no one he truly needed to be responsible for.
His salary wasn’t high, but it wasn’t low either.
He didn’t gamble, and his expenses were simple.
So he had disposable income.
Most of that money, in the end, was spent on one thing—women.
To him, it wasn’t depravity, but “reasonable consumption.”
If he paid, he should receive something in return. That had always been his belief.
It started from something he heard from a coworker.
There was a mimikaki shop in Akihabara.
“There’s a girl there… very gentle.”
“Her technique is precise, and she remembers customers’ habits.”
“Talking to her feels really comfortable.”
He didn’t think much of it at the time.
One day after work, he just happened to pass by—and walked in.
That was his first time meeting Saotome Naomi.
Her appearance wasn’t particularly striking.
But her voice was soft, and her movements were light.
When his head rested on her lap, he felt something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.
And if he could buy that feeling with money—there was no reason not to come again.
A second time. A third time. A fourth.
At first, he was just a regular customer with fixed bookings.
She smiled as usual and said, “Welcome back.”
Everything was normal—at least, in his eyes.
But somewhere along the way, something changed.
He began to look forward to her voice.
To her remembering things about him.
And to the possibility that—maybe—he was special to her.
After all, he came more frequently than others.
And he took this “relationship” more seriously than anyone else.
So it wouldn’t be unreasonable for him to be a little different, right?
“What do you think I am like?”
That was his first attempt.
He hadn’t thought too much about it—he just wanted confirmation.
Whether, in her eyes, he was “special.”
But her answer—“average, slightly above average.”
Something inside him cracked.
Average?
He cleaned himself up every day.
He even made extra effort before coming.
He spent money. Time.
And more care than anyone else.
And yet—just average?
“I should be considered handsome, right?”
His tone shifted.
But he didn’t notice it himself.
She quickly added that it was already a high compliment.
And smiled, saying she was also just ordinary.
At that moment—he actually felt relieved.
Even a little happy.
“So we’re a perfect match.”
To him, it felt like a natural conclusion.
From that point on, he went more and more frequently.
He also began tracking her schedule—what time she started work, what time she left, which exit she used.
At first, he only watched from a distance.
They slowly grew closer.
He didn’t think of it as stalking.
After all—knowing someone’s life like this was just part of caring, wasn’t it?
Until that day.
He prepared a gift.
He wanted to take things further.
Even if it was something bought with money.
A birthday should be special.
He waited at the station exit.
When she saw him, her expression wasn’t surprise—it was fear.
For a moment, he didn’t understand.
He was only trying to get closer.
And besides, this was the kind of job she did anyway. Why would she run?
He heard everything at the shop when she explained it to the manager.
Every word.
That day, for the first time, he felt rejected.
She changed shops, changed locations, changed her phone, changed her life—as if running.
But he could find her. He always could.
No matter how she changed, no matter how she hid—he could still see her again.
“I’ve always been watching you.”
He said it sincerely.
But her reaction—
was as if she was looking at a monster.
At that moment, he realized something.
In her eyes—he was never “special.”
Not even human.
Something inside him snapped.
If he couldn’t have it, no one would.
The thought quietly took root—and never left.
The next day, he prepared everything.
A knife was placed in his bag.
He even planned the timing, the location, the route.
One more meeting—and everything would end.
But just as he was about to leave—the phone rang.
He almost didn’t answer.
But for some reason, he picked it up.
“…Hello?”
There was a pause.
Then—her voice.
“Is this Sato-san?”
His breathing stopped.
“This is Saotome.”
Soft, calm—like nothing had ever happened.
“After work today… would you like to go watch a movie together?”
For a moment, everything felt normal again.
Only then did he notice—
his hand was trembling as he held the phone.
“…Okay.”
The air outside felt cold.
But he didn’t feel it.
That smile on his face refused to fade.
Before leaving, he prepared carefully.
He went to a pharmacy and bought sleeping pills.
He checked his appearance again and again—from collar to cuffs.
This time, he would definitely have her.
If he could take her home, even if she had never taken a client before, she would eventually get used to it after once.
Just thinking about it made his heartbeat faster, his expression twisting into something grotesque—without noticing the shadow beside him subtly shifting.
At noon, he was already waiting near the Shinjuku shop.
Even though she finished at nine, he couldn’t relax.
What if she ran away?
Tonight, he would watch the movie with her—and bring her home.
Nine p.m.
He was already restless, pacing in front of the shop.
Two girls appeared.
One with black hair, one with white.
“Are you Sato-san?”
The black-haired girl leaned slightly forward.
Behind her, the streetlight stretched her shadow long—
and something from within that shadow was watching him.
Sato froze.
“We’re Saotome’s high school friends,” the white-haired girl added naturally.
“She often talks about you.”
“Today she asked us to check if you’re suitable for her.”
The black-haired girl even gave a thumbs-up.
Pride swelled in his chest.
Pride swelled uncontrollably.
“She actually really likes you,” the black-haired girl said.
“She’s just shy.”
“You should be more patient as the guy.”
“She scares men away because of her personality.”
“You really should cherish her.”
Sato forced a smile.
“But… she always looks scared of me.”
“Are you sure she’s really scared?” the girl asked, narrowing her eyes.
He hesitated. “…Maybe she wasn’t.”
Maybe she was just shy.
Yes.
That must be it.
“Mr. Sato, I’m off work now. Shall we go watch a movie?”
A soft voice came from the side.
Completely different from before.
Gentle. Natural. Even a little close.
As if everything he understood before had been wrong.
The cinema.
The moment he stepped inside, he felt a heavy pressure.
As if something was watching him.
He turned around.
In the shadows of the two girls—
two blood-red eyes stared directly at him.
“Ah—”
His body jerked back.
“What’s wrong?” the black-haired girl asked impatiently.
“There—there are eyes.”
But when he looked again—
nothing was there.
Inside the theater, he sat beside Saotome.
She looked focused on the movie, even smiling slightly.
This should be fine.
Just holding hands… shouldn’t be a problem.
He slowly reached out.
She didn’t pull away.
Her hand was soft, slightly cold.
His heartbeat quickened.
But—
something felt wrong.
She was eating popcorn with both hands.
Drinking with both hands.
Then what—was he holding?
Coldness surged up his spine.
He looked down.
Only his own hand.
Nothing else.
“…Did you hold my hand just now?”
“Hm?” She tilted her head.
“Sato-san… want to hold hands?”
She shyly extended her hand.
His heart jolted.
So what was that just now?
He took her hand again.
His mind was already in chaos.