After the coffee shop talk, Miss Wang grew weighed down by worries—but she’d always been skilled at masking her emotions, her face a perfect poker mask.

She appeared perfectly normal, dining with the girls from her hostess club, pouring tea for everyone. Only Kanata’s cup had something slipped quietly into it.

It was forced. After all, she’d never claimed to be the Sovereign’s discarded mistress. Miss Wang felt they were even now.

No absolute right or wrong—just fate, the puppet master, toying with them both.

…

“I didn’t sleep well today… feeling a bit drowsy…”

Kanata yawned repeatedly mid-meal. Last night truly offered no rest. Too tired to go home, too afraid to visit Nozomi in the hospital—worried it might upset her—she spent the night in a room at the club.

Her old wound showed no sign of healing. A low-grade fever set in. Too lazy to buy medicine, she just lay there. Chills and heat swirled through her body, the wound burning, sleep impossible.

Painkillers had long lost their edge. Frequent use drained their effect—practically useless now.

All she wanted was sleep. The day’s work was done. She could rest until tomorrow morning.

“If you’re tired, go rest. I’ll have them clear the dishes.”

Miss Wang lifted her fifth cup of sake. Her mind heavy tonight, she barely touched tea or food—only the alcohol flowed freely.

“Then I’ll nap… Don’t drink too much yourself.”

Kanata quickly finished the last half-bowl of rice, wolfed down the miso soup, confirmed nothing needed her attention, tidied slightly, and headed to the temporary room prepared for her.

Sleepiness crashed over her like a relentless tide. Just like always—after work, only exhaustion remained. No hunger. No urge for a hot shower.

She’d even thought earlier about grabbing mousse from the dessert shop near her apartment… but exhaustion always won. Collapse into bed the moment she got home.

Sleep really was comfort itself.

…

Again—Kanata had lost count how many times—she dreamed of intimacy with Alessia.

She undid the ties of her Japanese wrap-style sleeping robe, letting it slip slowly to her waist. A cold hand brushed the bandaged spot on her abdomen.

Fingertips traced upward along her abs. Then a cool, gentle kiss landed.

Kanata tried to rise, to shout at this damn woman—demand what indecent thing she was doing to her body.

But her limbs were leaden. Words wouldn’t form.

“Wha… what… are you… doing?”

Only her eyes moved. Utterly helpless.

“So I’m having my way with you. Don’t waste time repeating the question.”

Alessia’s fingertips glided lightly over Kanata’s lower abdomen—a ticklish spot. Kanata squirmed, desperate to shake the hand off, to end this unsettling sensation.

Futile. She couldn’t win against this woman.

“Useless. Tonight, you can do nothing but submit. Because—money can do whatever it wants.”

Alessia’s smirk screamed one thing: *Money talks.*