Further instruction?
Eriri blinked in confusion, unable to grasp what that meant at first.
But when she followed Seiji Fujiwara's predatory gaze as it slowly traveled downward, settling on a certain forbidden zone behind her that had never been touched before...
Her pupils contracted sharply!
A wave of shame far more intense than anything before erupted like a volcano!
"No—!!!"
"No! Not there... absolutely not there!"
She screamed in panic, her hands instinctively covering herself behind.
But her escape was futile.
Seiji Fujiwara caught up to her in just two steps, effortlessly pinning her to the floor.
"No! Let me go! Please! Seiji! I was wrong! I was really wrong!!" Eriri sobbed and begged.
Just when she thought she was about to be completely defiled, plunged into an endless hell—
"Click."
The studio door suddenly opened.
A familiar figure appeared in the doorway.
It was Utaha Kasumigaoka.
She wore a casual home dress, carrying a white plastic bag in her hand. Seeing the lewd and chaotic scene in the room, her face showed not a trace of surprise, but rather a faint sympathetic smile.
"Utaha! Utaha! Save me! Please save me!"
Seeing her friend appear, Eriri erupted with one last hope, like she'd seen her savior.
She mustered every ounce of strength in her body, reaching toward the doorway with an outstretched hand.
Utaha looked at her pitiful state, her face showing sympathy, then cheerfully lifted the plastic bag in her hand.
The bag was translucent. Eriri could clearly see that it didn't contain anything she'd imagined, but rather a set of cleaning and expansion tools.
"Sorry, Eriri."
Utaha's voice was as gentle and pleasant as always.
"Seiji just texted asking me to come over... I'm actually here to help."
BOOM—!!!
Eriri's hand, frozen in midair, went rigid.
Her expression was filled with disbelief.
Utaha was actually on Seiji Fujiwara's side!!?
Under Eriri's gaze, mixed with shock and grief, she was lifted up by Seiji Fujiwara and carried toward the bedroom. Utaha followed with the bag in hand, a mischievous smile on her face as she entered the bedroom.
...
...
The next morning's sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, spilling into the room.
Eriri woke up with both mind and body utterly exhausted, feeling like she'd pulled three all-nighters in a row finishing manuscripts—her spirit and body pushed to their absolute limits.
She slowly opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling, her brain frozen for a good ten seconds.
Then, the chaotic, shameful, and infuriating memories from last night came flooding back like an overturned paint palette, making her entire body go stiff.
She bolted upright. The thin blanket slipped from her smooth shoulders.
Those absurd scenes—Utaha's entertained smile, Seiji Fujiwara's demonic whispers, and herself forced to assume shameful poses and recite lines that only existed in her doujinshi—played on repeat in her mind like a slideshow.
But worse than all of that was a feeling emanating from the depths of her soul—the sensation of being completely marked and possessed.
That feeling seemed to tell her she could never go back.
"Bastard... scumbag..."
She bit her lower lip, two flames of unwillingness burning in her azure eyes.
Enduring the excruciating pain as if her body had been dismantled and reassembled, she struggled to her feet, supporting herself against the wall, step by agonizing step, making her way out.
She was going to establish some ground rules with that man!
There absolutely couldn't be a next time!
However, when she walked out of the studio, she saw another scene that made her blood boil.
In the spacious, bright living room, Seiji Fujiwara sat leisurely on the sofa watching the morning news.
He wore clean casual clothes, looking refreshed and energetic—completely different from the tireless demon in the studio, like two different people.
And Utaha Kasumigaoka, that "close friend" who had personally pushed her into the fire last night, wore an elegant lace loungewear set, holding a cup of fragrant tea, sitting beside Seiji Fujiwara.
She even thoughtfully straightened his slightly disheveled collar. An atmosphere flowed between them that was glaringly intimate—like an old married couple.
In that moment, their friendship cracked wide open.
"Utaha! Kasumi! Gaoka!"
Eriri forced each syllable through her clenched teeth.
The fury in her eyes nearly burned the other woman to ashes.
She bared her cute little fangs at Utaha, making threatening "grrr" sounds like a thoroughly enraged kitten.
However, faced with her hostility, Utaha merely set down her teacup unconcernedly, elegantly wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, and even looked at her with faint sympathy and understanding.
"Good morning, Eriri." Utaha's voice was as gentle and pleasant as always, but the content made her furious. "Judging by your appearance, last night's instruction must have been quite effective. Seiji-kun said you have great potential."
Those words were like pouring oil on fire, making Eriri explode instantly!
She wanted to rush forward without thinking, desperate to fight this traitor.
Compared to the perpetrator, Eriri hated the traitor even more!
But she'd forgotten—in her current physical condition, she couldn't make any violent movements. She'd barely taken one step when the strange sensation from behind made her legs go weak. She let out a pained grunt, nearly falling to the floor in disgrace.
Seiji Fujiwara shook his head and moved forward to support her, saying:
"Enough. Settle down. After breakfast, go back to your studio."
Those casual words instantly extinguished all of Eriri's rage.
Before absolute power, her resistance was as laughable as a child's tantrum.
"Hmph!"
Knowing she couldn't resist Seiji Fujiwara, Eriri could only let out a light snort, allowing him to help her to the dining table where she sulked over her breakfast.
...
...
After that day, Eriri locked herself in her studio once again.
But this time, it wasn't to escape—it was to become "legitimate."
She poured all her energy into a newly conceived original manga.
She would draw a proper hot-blooded fantasy manga called The Holy Sword Princess and the Final Dragon—a story filled with light and hope, the complete opposite of Seiji Fujiwara's dark adult world.
The story had been in her mind for a long time.
She just hadn't felt confident enough to draw it, so it had been shelved.
But after Seiji Fujiwara's shameful "guidance," Eriri felt she'd improved tremendously—perhaps she could give it a try now.
Of course, the process encountered some obstacles.
Every few days, when rent was due.
Seiji Fujiwara would use "checking development progress" as an excuse to subject her to a new round of expansion.
At first, it was one finger.
Later, three warm beads.
Finally, three fingers...
And naturally.
When the passage could accommodate the real weapon, what needed to happen would happen.
But what neither Eriri nor Seiji Fujiwara expected was—
It turned out to be her weakness!
Just a slight attempt made Eriri nearly collapse. She cried and screamed, struggling desperately, but even after Seiji Fujiwara immediately stopped, she still melted into a puddle, her mind going completely blank.
From then on, she developed a massive psychological shadow about this, terrified to the extreme.
Every time she saw Seiji Fujiwara's gaze drift toward her rear, she'd instinctively clench her legs like a startled cat.
Seiji Fujiwara seemed to have recognized her limit and was very "considerate" in not continuing, giving her sufficient recovery time.
During this period, Utaha also came to visit.
One afternoon, she carried a plate of cut fruit into the studio.
"Get out!" Eriri immediately bared her teeth at the sight of her, like a small beast defending its territory.
Utaha paid no mind, setting the fruit plate on the desk and pulling over a chair to sit down.
"Let's talk, Eriri."
Over the next hour, Eriri's worldview was completely overturned.
She listened as Utaha calmly explained how she'd fallen step by step.
Starting from how her family's financial collapse and her mother's hospitalization left her with nowhere to turn, forcing her to accept Seiji Fujiwara's "help."
To later being completely crushed by his godlike talent in creating Love Metronome.
Ultimately, willingly submitting to his control.
"...So, that's how it is now." Utaha looked at the dumbfounded Eriri, summarizing casually. "I am the first member of that guy's harem, and also the head wife. And you, Eriri, are the second member of the harem."
Eriri was utterly shocked.
Wait...
There are actually people openly keeping harems in real life?
Do you have enough ammunition?
Uh...
Thinking about Seiji Fujiwara's monster-like stamina, Eriri figured that bastard really did have the capital for a harem.
She sighed.
Looking at her friend Utaha before her—still elegant and proud, but with a hint of self-mockery in her eyes—and thinking of her own similar experience of being taken advantage of after her family went bankrupt, a sense of shared misery actually diluted the hatred in her heart.
"That bastard... he's just a scumbag who preys on people in crisis!" Eriri ground her teeth.
"That's right, a scumbag." Utaha nodded in agreement, picking up an apple slice and offering it to her. "And a super scumbag with talent so high it's despairing, and sexual prowess so terrifying it's frightening."
The two locked eyes, and in each other's gaze, they actually saw a glimmer of "revolutionary comrade" light.
From that day on, a strange "alliance of vice" was formed.
During the day, they seemed like rivals—the delicate relationship between the head wife and the newcomer.
But at night, when Seiji Fujiwara wasn't around, they'd huddle together, frantically cursing their common "master" behind his back.
And Seiji Fujiwara, naturally, was aware of this.
One evening, after Eriri fell asleep in her studio, he came to Utaha's room.
"I heard you two have been getting along well lately?" He embraced Utaha from behind as she read, asking with a light laugh.
Utaha's body stiffened, then relaxed, rolling her eyes. "Just found some common topics. What? Is Fujiwara-sensei so domineering that you'd even deprive us of the right to talk?"
"How could that be?" Seiji Fujiwara chuckled.
This kind of rebellious cursing behind his back was like children playing house.
Far from shaking his harem, it would become an outlet for their stress, helping them better accept reality.
"Of course not." Seiji Fujiwara's hands began to wander. "I actually want to reward you. Seems like having you comfort her was the right decision."
"Reward?" Utaha's breathing began to quicken. "I don't..."
Her words were cut off.
Seiji Fujiwara's hands moved directly into action.
"Mmm..." Utaha's eye roll hadn't even finished before her gaze grew hazy.
After all, she'd been thoroughly trained long ago.
The moment Seiji Fujiwara made a move, Utaha was like someone turning on a switch—her body automatically entering the state.
"You really are a bastard."
Realizing her body's reaction, Utaha glared at Seiji Fujiwara in frustration, then obediently cooperated with his movements, actively offering a kiss.
Their lips met, and Utaha's defiant glare melted into something softer. Seiji's hand slid up her side, fingers tracing the curve of her waist before cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her dress. She gasped into the kiss, and he took advantage, deepening it until her knees went weak.
His other hand tangled in her long black hair, pulling her closer as his thumb circled her nipple through the lace. Utaha's breath hitched, her hands clutching at his shoulders for support.
"Still think you don't want this reward?" he murmured against her lips.
Utaha couldn't answer—could only lean into his touch as his hands continued their exploration, mapping every curve with practiced familiarity.
...
...
Time flew by as Eriri lived in this cycle of frantically creating during the day and living in fear at night.
A month later, she finally completed her painstakingly crafted original manga—The Holy Sword Princess and the Final Dragon.
This was a standard shounen fantasy work, telling the story of an exiled princess who, with the help of a loyal knight, embarked on adventures, made companions, ultimately drew the holy sword, defeated the evil dragon, and restored her kingdom.
After completing the first chapter.
She solemnly submitted her manuscript.
However, reality once again gave her the coldest response.
Three days later, it was rejected.
[Shueisha Weekly Shonen Jump Editorial Department Response]
"Manuscript received. Your artistic skill is truly top-tier, with beautiful character designs and solid backgrounds showing deep artistic foundation. However, we regret to inform you that your story... is too clichéd. Similar plots are already common in the market, lacking any explosive elements that would catch readers' attention. Additionally, your panel layout is somewhat immature, the pacing weak, and many scenes fail to fully convey their impact. After comprehensive consideration, our magazine has decided not to accept it. We look forward to your future work."
Unwilling to give up, Eriri submitted to other publishers.
...
[Kodansha Weekly Shonen Magazine Editorial Department Response]
"...Art is good, but the story is shallow, character development is one-dimensional, paneling is subpar..."
...
[Shogakukan Weekly Shonen Sunday Editorial Department Response]
"...We regret to inform you that your work does not yet meet our serialization standards!"
...
The reasons were remarkably consistent.
The art was fine, but too formulaic, and both the paneling and story weren't up to par.
Eriri sat dazed in her chair, looking at rejection after rejection, all the strength seeming to drain from her body.
A sense of loss, like thick fog, shrouded her heart.
It was a deep feeling of powerlessness.
What should she do!
The thought of asking Seiji Fujiwara for help crept up her heart again like creeping vines.
...
...
On the other side.
Seiji Fujiwara was absorbing his harvest.
[Detected conquest target: Eriri Spencer Sawamura...]
[Stage Two conquest achieved, calculating rewards...]
[Congratulations, you've received Stage Two reward: Complete data package for the manga "Anohana: The Flower We Saw That Day."]
Instantly, a massive stream of information flooded into Seiji Fujiwara's mind.
This was an original TV anime, written by the legendary Mother Okada.
With delicate emotional portrayal and tear-jerking plot, the work gained immense popularity upon release, later adapted into manga, novels, theatrical films, and live-action drama.
In the original world, BD/DVD initial sales exceeded 30,000 copies, with average sales of 56,000 per volume, making it the sales champion of its season.
The theatrical version accumulated over 1 billion yen at the box office.
The story's location prototype, "Chichibu City," became a popular anime pilgrimage destination, greatly boosting local tourism.
The theme song "secret base Kimi ga Kureta Mono (10 years after Ver.)" went viral, becoming a generation's youth memory.
...
The information Seiji Fujiwara received included the complete script for all 11 episodes, character design drafts, art background settings, storyboard scripts, and complete sheet music and arrangement data for all related music (opening, ending, insert songs).
After digesting this complete data package.
He stretched lazily, planning to find an opportunity to hand it to Eriri, letting this golden retriever grow while drawing.
...
...
Another rent day.
Seiji Fujiwara came to the villa again, entering Eriri's art studio.
The moment he entered, he sensed the oppressive atmosphere in the room.
His gaze swept over the rejection letters on the screen, finally settling on Eriri's dejected yet stubbornly defiant expression.
====
You can read up to chapter 110 on patreon.com/NiaXD.