After stepping in to shield Reira from total disaster, Inose slapped down three so-called “conditions” like they were some kinda holy contract. But the moment he saw the raw, messy dynamic between Inose and Reira up close? Yeah, that paper got shredded real quick—deal’s dead, no take-backs.
The daily grind of forced routines is no more. But instead of celebrating, the two decided to hang up their competitive spikes for good. On their own terms, they dove headfirst into that freaky side of the game, transforming into full-blown maso who willingly crawled into the cocoon of kink and came out flapping some wild butterfly wings nobody asked for.
Then Inose hit ’em with the real talk, followed by three new rules.
Rule one: For one whole week inside the inn, they’ve gotta rock whatever fancy costumes the VIP clients pick out, no complaints, no “but my ankles are cold.”
Rule two: Keep the big-spenders smiling, or else. Whatever they say, you do it. Simple as that. Don’t trip, don’t talk back, don’t breathe wrong.
Rule three: After seven days, whoever squeezes out more love juices gets crowned as Inose’s wifey. The loser? Pack your bags, you’re getting shipped off to the regulars like last week’s clearance sushi.
The one with more cums wins. No ties, no sympathy.
Now these two former rivals, once besties battling it out in the big leagues, are squaring off in the weirdest showdown ever.
