The tension, thick and palpable, hung in the air like an unexploded charge. All eyes were on Seira, waiting for her reaction to the private, unseen exchange. Her visible eye, which had just moments ago flared with shock, narrowed once more.
Slowly, a familiar, meticulously crafted smug smile began to reclaim her features, pushing aside the fleeting vulnerability. It was a mask, perfectly reinstated.
"Oh, ladies, there's no need for such concern,"
Seira announced, her voice returning to its light, melodic tone, though a fraction deeper than before. She even let out a soft, amused titter, designed to dismiss any genuine alarm. "Saionji-kun was merely... expressing his profound academic interest. He was quite intrigued by my ability to discern his methods, and proposed a scholarly exchange of information, to be conducted with due discretion." She tilted her head, her smile unwavering, selling the lie with practiced ease. "Nothing more than the dry, intellectual pursuits one might expect from someone of his... unique background."
The other women exchanged relieved, albeit still bewildered, glances. The explanation was vague, but it sounded harmless, even plausible, given Kyouya's reputation for detached intellect. The tension eased, replaced by murmurs of confusion and a general feeling of having missed the punchline.
Deep down, however, Seira's composure was a carefully constructed facade. Kyouya's whisper had hit her like a precisely aimed psychological blow. The cold, analytical calculation behind his words – reducing her, Arisu Sakayanagi, to a mere means to an end, a source of data to be expedited by being "taken first" – was infuriating. It was insulting. It was utterly, breathtakingly audacious. And, to her own profound and unsettling surprise, it had sent a shiver through her that was not entirely of anger.
Trouble. I am in deep, deep trouble. The realization had solidified the moment his cold, logical proposition had grazed her ear. Her heart, usually so resilient, had given an unexpected, almost imperceptible flutter. He hadn't kissed her. He had offered something far more dominant, far more... claiming. He hadn't sought her consent; he had stated a logical conclusion to acquire information.
And the most infuriating, the most utterly flustering truth was this: despite her fury, despite her pride, a part of her, a deep, primal part she rarely acknowledged, wouldn't mind being claimed by Kyouya Saionji. This man, who saw her not as a delicate flower or a disabled girl, but as a complex variable to be solved, a source of crucial data, and a tactical objective. It was an appalling, yet strangely compelling, realization.
Kyouya, still standing over her, observed her flawless recovery. He saw the way her eyes, despite the forced smile, held a subtle, new glint of something unsettled, something he hadn't seen before. The lie was convincing enough for the others, but her own internal reaction was a victory for him. He had pierced her composure, and in doing so, had uncovered a fascinating new layer to the formidable Seira Kagurazaka.
The game was escalating, not just in stakes, but in its very nature.
The tension from Kyouya and Seira's exchange gradually dissipated, replaced by a low hum of gossip among the women now scattered on the poolside rug. Whispers about Kyouya's mysterious past, Seira's veiled accusations, and Ayaka's vehement denials floated through the air. They were trying to piece together the fragments of information, unaware that the chaos itself had been a calculated variable.
Kyouya let them murmur for a few more moments, allowing the curiosity to ferment. Then, with a subtle shift in his posture, a quiet clearing of his throat that somehow commanded immediate attention, he drew all eyes to him. He remained standing, his figure imposing even in its stillness, the evening light glinting off his sunglasses.
"Ladies," Kyouya began, his voice calm, clear, and resonant, cutting through the lingering chatter like a precise blade. "I understand there have been some... understandable questions regarding the circumstances of our gathering. Allow me to clarify." He paused, letting his gaze sweep across each expectant face, holding their attention captive.
"My father, Kiritaka Saionji, recently conveyed to me his... dying wish." The words, though delivered without overt emotion, carried a somber weight. "He is, regrettably, in failing health. His greatest regret, he expressed, was the absence of a direct successor, an heir to the Saionji name and legacy." Kyouya's hand made a subtle, almost dismissive gesture towards the sprawling resort. "Therefore, as per his final request, I have been tasked with selecting a suitable partner from among you. Someone who will ensure the continuation of the Saionji lineage, and with it, the family's future."
He continued, his voice adopting a more formal, almost ritualistic tone. "You are here, therefore, as candidates. Candidates to potentially become the matriarch of one of Japan's most prominent families. My father's sole desire is to see this union before his passing. This is the 'reason' for your presence here." He concluded, his expression unreadable, offering no further elaboration or personal sentiment.