She shook her head, trying not to think about it. Meticulously folding her bra and panties, she tucked them onto a nearby chair. Since the plan was just to have dinner, she had not expected it to get so late—let alone to spend the night. She hadn’t brought a change of clothes, so she had to preserve both her undergarments and outerwear, as she would still need them either later or the following morning. Finally, unable to resist any longer, she looked up into the bathroom mirror, her slightly bloodshot eyes staring back at her. Once again, she examined the body she had once held as her most precious treasure, the body now violated by another. Pale, radiant, supple—it seemed as though her skin could melt like water into the softness of a swimming pool. It wasn’t just her most private places, not just the most alluring innocence of her budding nipples or the shameful crevice below. It was every detail—her shoulders, her navel, her legs, even her elbows and knees—all delicate and graceful, youthful and athletic, devoid of any wrinkles or flaws. Yet as she gazed at her reflection again and again, it seemed as though she could see filth and impurity deep within her pores and skin, as if Ishikawa Yue’s shadow was there, as if his scent still lingered. She knew it was just psychological. All she could do was cast aside the helpless pain and intrusive thoughts, letting the hot water spray down from the showerhead, cascading over her entire body. From her hairline to her shoulders, from the peaks of her breasts to the curves of her hips, from her thighs to her small feet—she recklessly scrubbed herself, not bothering to bathe carefully like when she was at home. The scalding water spread across her skin, as if it could cleanse her more thoroughly, as if it could wash away some of the distress and anguish, and yet it also seemed like some kind of hypnotic liquid, enveloping her... Turning off the shower, she dried her body with a clean, large white towel and put on her form-fitting panties again. As though worried about something, she rummaged through the large wardrobe and, sure enough, found a set of clean guest silk pajamas. She tried them on; the size was slightly too large. But she didn’t want to sleep with her bra on—it would be too uncomfortable. And yet, she also didn’t want to sleep naked, as it gave her an uneasy sense of insecurity. With no other choice, she reluctantly put on the slightly oversized pajamas and slipped into the silky, snowy white, King-Size bed. The soft, gentle embrace of the down comforter, combined with the cool 22-degree room temperature, made her feel even sleepier. She turned off the light, and the room was immediately enveloped in silence and darkness. Only the moonlight over Crescent Lake managed to filter in faintly through the drapes. She pulled the blanket over her head, thinking she would fall asleep quickly... but her half-asleep, half-awake thoughts began to flow in ceaselessly. She could, of course, pretend that nothing had happened. But it had—everything was already different, wasn’t it? Underneath the pajamas, she gently wrapped her small arms around her petite frame, squeezing her tender chest tight, curling her knees to her body, her long legs clenching together firmly, as though trying to forever seal away her most private place within the muscles of her thighs. This beautiful, small body—did it still belong to her? This body she had explored in secret under the covers, indulging herself in illicit pleasure. This body she had admired in the mirror, finding it irresistibly alluring, exceptionally lovely—a treasure she had envisioned one day offering to her future husband. Did it truly still belong to her? The door was locked. But if Li Tong had given her room key to Ishikawa Yue, wouldn’t he also have a copy? If he decided to come looking for her after finishing his singing late at night... what could she do besides stifle her shame and pain, covering her mouth to suppress the cries of humiliation while allowing him to ravage her tender young body again? What else could she do but submit? Under his orders and threats, perhaps she wouldn’t just curl up helplessly, enduring his abuse. She might be forced to actively spread her legs, to part her hands, to willingly expose every inch of what she had tried so hard to hide, offering herself up to him once more. Perhaps she would even have to pose in certain ways, to perform certain actions—just like that night. Maybe she’d have to call him "brother," or "master," or even "daddy"—using those depraved titles, those humiliating terms of submission, daringly uttered to please this man. And what was even sadder was that this wasn’t what she feared most. She had struggled, repeatedly contemplating with her inexperienced mind, unable to make sense of these matters. Ishikawa Yue was not the same as those rich young heirs who chased her at the base. He was different... He had done too much to her, invested too much thought, plotted far too deliberately. He had spent such an immense amount of effort making her famous, orchestrating her image in the shadows. Could it all really have been just to amplify his pleasure when raping her? The reason she sometimes entertained the fantasy—wondering if Ishikawa Yue might, in some twisted sense, be "in love" with her—was because no matter how she analyzed it, Chuan Yue’s actions seemed beyond comprehension. Thɪs chapter is updated by NoveI-Fire.ɴet If she could set aside the part where he raped her, it was almost as if he were a selfless, powerful agent, shaping her past, managing her present, and building her future in a way she herself could scarcely understand. But those horrifying photos, that degrading assault, and the countless times she revisited the memory of inescapable humiliation—his sinister yet commanding whisper in her ear that night: "Obey. Absolute obedience."—left her with an unsettling glimpse of his intentions.