“D-do… do me or whatever… You’re the Sovereign, right? Is it really okay to say something so vulgar?”

Kanata’s face flushed crimson at the words.

For someone raised in the prestigious Fujiwara Clan—renowned for its strict etiquette training—to hear the Sovereign utter such crude, street-level slang was utterly mind-boggling.

“But I *am* the Sovereign of Falling Cherry City. My words *are* truth here. Who decides if my phrasing is refined or vulgar?”

Alessia tilted Kanata’s chin up, forcing her to meet her gaze.

“No screaming. No tears. And don’t even think about calling the nurses to interrupt me. Or… your sister’s hospital fees for next month vanish.”

The threat wasn’t clever—but it hit Kanata’s weak spot dead-on. Even childish-sounding words carried weight when they gripped your deepest fear.

And Kanata’s weak spot was Nozomi. Her sister’s medical bills outweighed pride, dignity, everything. If money meant Nozomi could live… enduring this was worth it.

Pathetic? Yes. Tragic? Also yes.

Yet beneath the sorrow lingered something else—an indescribable vibe. Call it erotic tension.

“I-I get it… But don’t go too far… This is a hospital. If a nurse walks in during rounds and sees… we’ll get scolded…”

Kanata’s eyes kept darting toward the door. She genuinely feared that strict nurse bursting in, witnessing everything, yelling at the Sovereign—and *she’d* bear the consequences too.

*Why does the Sovereign’s sudden friskiness have to drag innocent me into it?*

“Tell me—don’t these smell good?”

Alessia suddenly produced a thick stack of crisp new bills, fresh from the mint, carrying that sharp scent of ink.

*Tempting.* No word fit money better. If the whole world chose 20 million over a cute girl? Kanata would stand firmly with the world—no hesitation.

“Your sister’s treatment fees depend entirely on your performance.”

“…”

At this point, refusal wasn’t an option. Without monthly treatment, Nozomi couldn’t survive.

That was why Kanata was always desperate for cash—scraping together every yen to keep her sister alive.

Alessia was a walking money tree. What choice did she have but to cling to her?

“So… how should I ‘perform’?”

Kanata lay against the pillows, clothes loosened under duress. Blood had already seeped through the bandages wrapped around her abdomen. *Theoretically*, she shouldn’t be doing *anything* like this.

Nurse’s orders: *Lie still. Let the wound heal.*

“Hmm… let me think—”

Alessia feigned contemplation, then her eyes lit up. Clearly, she’d landed on something provocative.

“I know you hate me. But people like me? We *love* making others do what they despise. So—Miss Kanata Himemiya. Kiss me. *Willingly.* For the money.”

Delivered with wicked amusement, yet the solemn tone of a royal decree.

Kanata had never initiated a kiss. Never held a girl’s hand—not even once, aside from Nozomi.

*Umm… this is too hard.*

“C-can we pick something else…?”

“No.”

Alessia’s refusal was absolute. The kiss was non-negotiable.

“Doesn’t it feel thrilling? Doing something this provocative in an unlocked hospital room? If the money suddenly smells less sweet… I’ll leave. And you can figure out next month’s fees yourself.”

Kanata weighed pride against cash—and tossed pride straight into the trash.

“I-it’s just a kiss… Pfft. I’ve read more erotic novels and watched more adult videos than you’ve seen documents… Watch closely… I’ll totally pull it off!”

She bluffed big. But had zero clue how to start. Trapped.

Alessia’s patience ran out.

“Ten seconds. Since you’re *so* experienced—show me that ‘masterful’ kissing skill. Now.”