The Heroines All Regretted It

"Wow…"

"Your foyer is as big as my entire bedroom apartment. No wonder you could offer ten million—and add five more without hesitation."

Yoru's family wasn't wealthy. Seeing this level of luxury stirred his lingering sense of inferiority.

Eriri hit the tile floor with a dull thud. Her small frame slammed against the hard surface.

"Oww…"

She rolled slightly on the floor, groaning as pain surged from all over her body. She tried to shift her focus from the ache.

Yoru, meanwhile, took off his shoes and casually tossed them aside. His time in the hospital had given him a bit of a cleanliness habit.

"You bastard! What are you doing?! Are you insane?!"

Eriri finally began to regain some strength. Leaning on the wall, she stood and glared at Yoru.

He'd attacked her. Forced his way into her house…

Her fingers trembled as she held onto the wall. She couldn't stand upright.

She was terrified. A stranger had invaded her home.

He wouldn't… he wouldn't really do something to her… would he?

"Okaasan! Okaasan!" Eriri cried out, panicked, hoping her mother would come down.

It was instinct—call for help when there's danger.

"Go ahead, shout louder," Yoru said, face twisted, but voice disturbingly calm.

He stood by the door, watching her with unsettling clarity.

"You better get out! My mom's upstairs—maybe sleeping. If she comes down, you're dead meat, freak!"

"Then maybe I should drag you upstairs to meet her?" Yoru's twisted grin deepened.

Eriri collapsed to the floor with a soft thud. She leaned against the wall, kicking her legs, trying to crawl back—but there was nowhere left to go.

"Eriri Sawamura, that lie was pretty weak."

"Is your mom even home?"

Yoru smiled and reached behind to gently close the door. The room dimmed.

"What… what are you going to do…?"

With the door—her only hope of escape—shut, Eriri's panic reached a peak. The emotional shock hit her almost as hard as the physical blow.

"What am I going to do? I came here for revenge."

Yoru had a twisted grin on his face as he dropped his bag, stretching out a large hand and slowly approaching Eriri.

"Get away from me! Go to hell! I swear I'll beat you to death, you idiot!"

Cornered in desperation, Eriri didn't know where the sudden strength or courage came from. She sprang up from the floor and, still wearing the shoes over her sweaty white stockings from a whole day, kicked directly at Yoru.

It was a reaction driven by pure panic and fury.

Only after her foot was in motion did Eriri realize—she was no match for him. The only way she'd survive was to run.

Relying on her agile frame, she twisted her body and made a desperate dash toward the room.

If she could just make it into her room and lock the door, she'd be safe.

And then Yoru would be the one in trouble.

Yoru, already prepared for everything, had even come up with several backup plans and lines to say. But now, with Eriri walking right into his hands, he didn't need any of them.

Did she really think he hadn't considered the possibility she'd try to run?

Eriri barely took a few steps and hadn't even made it to the entrance hall when Yoru caught up from behind. He grabbed the collar of her elite Shuuchiin school uniform and yanked her back.

This wasn't some flimsy knockoff—this was a top-tier uniform from a prestigious private school, built to last.

Had she been wearing something cheap, it probably would've torn by now.

How much did Eriri wish right then that her uniform had been cheaply made?

"This hallway's too spacious sometimes, don't you think, Eriri Spencer Sawamura?"

Yoru shifted his stance slightly, mocking her with a sneer.

With just a bit of force, he pulled Eriri back toward him effortlessly.

To Eriri, though, it felt like an unstoppable strength she couldn't fight against.

Yoru was determined to crush her spirit.

To make her feel every bit of the pain he'd endured, and in the end, make her admit her wrongs and help clear his name.

But…

"No… Let me go…"

"When my parents come home, you're finished!"

"My father is a diplomat at the British embassy! You better back off if you know what's good for you!"

Eriri thrashed and kicked, stubbornly refusing to admit any guilt.

"Get back here!"

With a fierce tug, Yoru pulled the petite, doll-like girl back against his broad, sweaty frame.

He grabbed one of her twin-tails and pulled hard.

"Ahhh! Aahh!"

The scalp is full of nerves and blood vessels—pulling hair is excruciating.

Her long, naturally blonde twin-tails, something Eriri had always been proud of, became a source of pain.

Inside the extravagant European-style mansion, her agonized screams echoed through the hall.

It hurt—more than she could bear.

"We're just getting started, Eriri Sawamura."

Yoru grinned cruelly, then paused as he was about to throw her to the floor.

This villa was spotless and luxurious—he didn't want to make a mess.

Instead, he held Eriri's weakened body and reached for her brown leather loafers.

Careful not to dirty his hands, he pinched the heels between two fingers and gave them a little shake until they slipped off.

He did the same with the other shoe.

"Trying to run, huh?"

He loosened his grip and extended a finger toward her exposed sole, giving it a teasing tickle.

"Aaaah-haha... S-stop... It tickles!"

"It tickles too much... Aaaaah… hehehe... ngh..."

"Please, stop... I can't take it... ahahaha..."

Eriri screamed and laughed uncontrollably. Tears and snot ran down her face as she struggled to breathe.

The sensation was maddening—worse than pain in some ways.

Yoru, satisfied that Eriri wouldn't try escaping again, finally dropped her onto the floor.

"Hah…"

Letting out a long breath, he clapped his hands softly and stared at her.

Above her head, a glowing golden chest slowly emerged from thin air.

Previously just a faint glimmer, now it had grown much brighter.

Apparently, physical contact accelerated its progress. The more intimate or intense the interaction, the faster the bar filled.

"I wonder what I'll get when Sawamura's golden chest opens…"

Yoru muttered to himself, ignoring the girl sobbing and trembling on the floor.

She could recover at her own pace—he had more pressing matters to deal with.

What matters?

Forcing Eriri to admit her wrongdoings and record a video confession where she admitted to stealing Utaha's stockings and underwear. That would be his proof.

He had to clear his name.

That was all he wanted.

Still, because of his time-rewind ability, Yoru wasn't fully satisfied. If he went too far with his revenge and pushed Eriri past her limits, she might turn on him in a self-destructive way.

Even if he rewound to a time a month ago, it wouldn't change much. All he would gain was a momentary vent of anger.

His only concern was that Eriri might go completely off the rails one day and seek revenge.

But he wasn't worried.

If she were going to retaliate, she would've done it already.

"Unless…"

Yoru narrowed his eyes, thinking through the worst-case scenarios.

Unless her golden chest held something surprising, something powerful enough to change the game.

That was the only real unknown.

Fortunately, with his mind-reading ability, Yoru could test her psychological limits from here on out.

Having sorted his thoughts, he looked down at Eriri, still weeping quietly on the floor.

"Get up. Stop crying."

His voice was cold and firm.

Eriri wiped her eyes, trying to speak.

But the tears came back in waves, filling her eyes with pain and fear.

It felt like a second nightmare, just like before.

Even though it was a little different, the outcome was the same.

She knew full well what a guy like him, barging into her house with a grudge, would do to someone like her.

And she knew exactly why—because she stole Kasumigaoka Utaha's personal things and failed to return an umbrella.

"Ugh… Please…"

She didn't even try to get up anymore.

In her mind, she was finished.

That disgusting guy was going to do all sorts of horrible things to her…

And her imagination ran wild.

She was, after all, a well-known doujin artist—with a mind full of those kinds of stories.

She probably had more ideas than Yoru himself.

This girl, who always acted high and mighty in front of others—commanding people around, looking down on him with disgust, calling him a perverted loser fatso—was now sobbing uncontrollably, her mouth open, drooling as her mind spiraled.

It was clearly her overactive imagination getting the best of her.

"Stand up."

Yoru showed no sympathy.

"I'll pay you! How much do you want?"

"Please… just let me go…"

"I have a lot of money. Twenty million, okay? You can have it—just don't hurt me…"

"Please... cough…"

Eriri's spirit was broken. She stopped resisting and started pleading.

Her tear-streaked face was a mess, like a delicate flower drenched in the rain.

If any of the boys who had crushes on her at school—or even the girls who looked up to her—saw her now, their worldview would shatter.

"Money, huh…?"

Yoru gave a small chuckle, unmoved.

Twenty million was a lot.

He didn't even need to read her mind to know that if he took her money and left, she'd definitely retaliate later.

She was rich, powerful, and proud.

Could someone like that swallow this kind of humiliation?

"Please… I'm begging you… that's all I have…"

"If it's not enough, I can give you more later…"

Eriri tried to choke back her sobs, her voice hoarse and raw from crying.

Even speaking hurt.

Yoru said nothing. The cruel glint in his eyes gradually faded.

He thought he'd feel overwhelming satisfaction after getting his revenge—adrenaline surging, body shaking with thrill.

But instead, he felt nothing.

Maybe it wasn't Yoru in control anymore—maybe it was something darker.

Eriri got no reply, which only made things scarier. She looked up at the overweight man standing before her, heart pounding in terror.

Right—he told her to stand up on her own!

Stand… up!

Eriri's pale arms pressed against the wall for support, trembling as she struggled to lift herself.

Her legs, still wrapped in white stockings, felt numb as if anesthetized. They shook under her weight like they could give out from a light breeze.

"Money can't fix everything, Sawamura Eriri,"

Yoru said calmly, watching her in her fragile state.

"Please…"

Eriri barely managed to keep herself standing. Her lips quivered as she responded weakly.

"Then tell me—why did you steal Kasumigaoka Utaha's stockings and underwear?"

Yoru asked directly.

"No… I didn't do it. You've got it all wrong, I swear…"

Eriri's body twitched slightly, as if she'd just lagged in a game for a second before reconnecting.

[I can't admit it… Maybe I can convince him otherwise…]

[Who saw me…? Who told him…?]

Yoru activated his mind-reading ability and caught every word of her internal monologue, a faint smirk curling on his lips.

"Still not ready to admit anything, huh~?"

"There's been a huge misunderstanding! I really didn't do it!"

"Think about it—why would I steal Utaha's stockings and panties? Does that make sense?"

"You see? If you think it through carefully, it doesn't, right?"

Eriri, desperate to latch onto anything that might help, tried to explain her way out.

"Sawamura, I actually wanted to go easy on you."

Yoru spoke in a vague, almost absent-minded tone.

He hadn't expected her to be this stubborn.

"You… what are you trying to do, you jerk?!"

"I'm warning you! Stay back or I'll tell my dad!"

"He'll… he'll deal with you!"

Eriri saw something shift in Yoru's expression and panicked again, stumbling backward.

But after just a few steps, her legs gave out entirely, and she fell.

Her fear, her despair—everything inside screamed at her to run—but her body refused to move.

Yoru walked over with heavy steps.

"No!"

Eriri shut her eyes tightly. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

…

Yoru walked behind the crying girl who knelt on the floor, and crouched down.

He grabbed her twin-tails and used them to pull her upright.

She couldn't get up on her own, so he did it for her.

"These pigtails… I bet half the boys at school would kill for a chance to tug on them."

Yoru smirked, twisting them between his fingers.

"You jerk! You creep! Gross loser! Just die already!"

"Let me go! Get off me, you disgusting pig!"

Eriri clenched her eyes shut as she felt Yoru's firm grip on her prized twin-tails, something even her childhood friend Aki never touched.

And now this—grabbing them from behind, no less.

Yoru ignored her insults and started pulling her toward another room.

"Let go! I swear I'll kill you!"

Eriri thrashed and screamed, her eyes red from tears and fury, gritting her teeth as she tried to threaten him.

But she was completely under his control—her threats meaningless.

"Shut it."

Yoru yanked her twin-tails again to keep her still.

Now she had no room to escape.

Eriri was truly terrified. She couldn't predict what Yoru might do next.

Would he… really go that far?

Did he not care about the consequences?

"Stop making noise."

Yoru, seeing she was close to breaking, loosened his grip slightly, giving her a moment to breathe.

"Haa… cough… haa…"

Eriri coughed violently, sucking in fresh air. She hated how helpless her body felt.

But Yoru's thick arm still hovered threateningly near her slender neck.

"Let go of me already!"

Seconds later, Eriri found her voice again, screaming.

But in this secluded, upscale villa—who would hear her?

No one.

Yoru dragged Eriri from the entryway into the spacious living room of the luxurious villa.

The room gleamed with gold accents, furnished in elegance. Even the sofa looked expensive enough to be mistaken for a bed.

"They say nerves in the fingers are the most sensitive… wonder if that's true?"

Yoru guided her to the couch and tossed her onto the cushions before pulling his hands back.

"You disgusting creep, what do you want from me?!"

"I'll kill you!"

Eriri yelled with tears running down her face, still trying to keep up a brave front.

"Still resisting, huh…"

Yoru pinned her down by the twin-tails, making sure she couldn't wriggle away.

Eriri was the type who cared more about appearances than anything else—and she hated being tickled.

"Ngh… damn you…"

She let out a low groan, barely squeezing words out.

This was the same mouth that had shouted she'd kill Yoru just moments ago, now unable to fight back.

"I guess I'll have to teach you a lesson."

Yoru grabbed one of her arms and twisted it behind her back.

"You… What are you doing?!"

"I'm warning you!"

Eriri couldn't tell what Yoru had in mind, but the feeling was far from good. She tried to break free again.

Yoru didn't bother responding anymore. He pushed her face-first into the soft leather of the couch, holding her arms behind her.

His large hands clamped tightly around her slim wrists.

It was an awkward, almost comical position—but for Eriri, it was nothing but degrading.

"Your fingers are so delicate, Sawamura."

"So smooth and soft. Almost like a doll."

He adjusted his footing slightly, letting her turn her head to face him. His tone grew darker.

"You…"

Eriri strained her neck to look back and saw Yoru holding her fingers, as if examining them.

"Want me to pull your nails out?"

"All ten of them—what do you think?"

The inner demon in Yoru twisted his tone into a mix of menace and mockery, his fingers massaging hers with disturbing calmness.

But was that even a question?

In this situation, she was the helpless one—completely at his mercy.

He wasn't actually going to…

They say twisted minds come from isolation and resentment…

And Yoru—

Eriri's panic surged.

But Yoru had only been bluffing—to scare her into submission.

Physical pain and humiliation, yes. But he wasn't crossing that line.

He held her fingers for a moment, then suddenly squeezed and bend one hard.

Pain shot through her body like lightning.

"Ahhh!"

Eriri screamed, thrashing, her feet kicking wildly.

One of her kicks landed hard.

Yoru growled.

"If you kick me again, I'll drag you outside and make a scene."

His sharp warning froze Eriri in place. Her chest heaved, breath ragged.

"Quiet."

Yoru wasn't done.

He resumed tickling her bare feet without mercy.

Eriri burst into laughter and sobs all at once, her voice shrill, her face wet with tears.

She gasped for air, chest burning, her lungs aching.

The torment dragged on—for more than ten minutes.