Kanata had another unsettling dream.

It wasn’t the first time lately. Alessia, wrapped in a loosely tied bathrobe, lifted her still-dripping deep-purple hair. Her skin was flushed, her long legs moving with elegant grace.

She radiated a seductive aura that stirred restless thoughts in anyone who looked.

"Kanata… may I kiss you?"

Her soft, crimson lips resembled cherries—sweet, tempting.

Shamefully, Kanata agreed. They tangled on the bed, kissing until their clothes vanished.

A night of pleasure.

…

Why did she keep having such lewd dreams?

Jolted awake by shame, Kanata wished she could smash her head against the wall—let the blood flow as punishment for her lustful thoughts.

Truth was, she *had* been doing something indescribable. But the one kissing her wasn’t Alessia. It was her childhood friend, Gen Ichiko.

Gen had always coveted Kanata’s body. Kanata knew it well—and always avoided her. This time, the lecher finally seized her chance.

The wound on her abdomen was stitched. The painkiller had worn off. Agony kept her from sleeping. A hand gently caressed her body while its owner skillfully worked her lips.

Kanata opened her eyes.

Gen’s beautiful face filled her vision—close, magnified. Androgynous features, not delicate but strikingly handsome. Long lashes framed pale-green eyes slightly narrowed with gentle warmth.

"Oh? Awake already?"

Gen pulled back just enough from Kanata’s lips. The space between them remained intimate—one slight lift would reconnect them.

"Your lips… truly delicious. Once tasted, impossible to forget."

Same theatrical, script-reading tone. Goosebumps. Kanata was too drained to even roll her eyes.

So her first kiss of the day was gone—stolen by someone she despised.

"Disgusting… scum. Pah!"

She tried to raise a hand to wipe her mouth. No strength left. Not even enough to form those words clearly.

She lay in a hospital bed. Lavish decor. A VIP suite—far too expensive for her. She’d only stepped inside before when bringing Nozomi for treatment.

Damn it…

"But I *saved* you, Kanata," Gen said, pressing a hand to her chest with mock sorrow. "The doctor said without timely care, the virus would’ve turned you Infected. And here I am—your savior—not repaid with gratitude, but called scum? My heart aches."

"Yeah… You should’ve left me alone. Like before. Aloof. Uninvolved. Why pretend kindness *now*?"

No gratitude stirred in Kanata. She remembered the day Nozomi was thrown out of this hospital. Gen had been there. Knew the higher-ups. Did nothing. If Alessia hadn’t intervened… Nozomi would’ve died.

The only family left in the world—gone forever.

She hated Gen. Deeply. Her father had treated Gen kindly. Taught her. And Gen repaid his kindness with betrayal—a heartless, ungrateful wretch.

"Kanata… I had my reasons. Back then, I truly couldn’t act. I’m sorry."

Same words. Not one changed. Zero remorse.

This person truly had no heart. A despicable, cold-blooded scum.

"Perhaps you can’t understand now… I can’t explain much. But if you ever need help—I’ll be there. Because you are the teacher’s—"

"Shut up! You… you’re not… *not worthy*!"

Kanata cut her off, grabbed the bedside alarm clock, and hurled it. It struck Gen’s forehead—split skin, blood welled.

It didn’t soothe her rage. But Gen was a noble’s daughter. No matter how furious, Kanata was powerless.

"Get out… I hate you… *Get out!*"

A hysterical scream. Gen only sighed—no blame, no anger—and closed the door softly.

Silence swallowed the room.

Then, from behind the door, came Kanata’s shattered, heart-wrenching sobs.