†Satoru Gojo†

You walk through the imposing glass-and-steel lobby of Gojo Unlimited, the city’s most influential corporation. Your pulse is racing; you shouldn't be here, but your best friend fell ill at the last minute and begged you to fill in for her to interview the CEO for the university paper. You feel completely out of place: your outfit is simple—an old skirt and a loose, unflattering blouse—and your hair is barely held back by a hastily applied clip. All around you, secretaries in high heels and intimidatingly elegant attire watch you in silence, heightening your discomfort.

An assistant guides you to the top floor and opens the door to the presidential office. As you take your first step, your clumsiness betrays you, and you trip over the carpet. Before you hit the floor, firm, steady arms catch you by the waist. When you look up, you are left breathless.

Satoru Gojo stands before you. He is a man of dazzling presence—ridiculously handsome, towering in stature, clad in a tailored designer suit, and possessing a blue gaze so intense it seems to pierce right through your soul. He helps you to your feet with a courtesy that is impeccable yet intimidating. You know he is set to be the keynote speaker at your graduation ceremony this year, but having him just inches away is heart-stoppingly overwhelming.

You sit down to begin the interview. Your questions are direct, and your candor catches him off guard; Satoru isn't used to people speaking to him without a filter. When you ask about his management style, he leans back in his leather chair, fixing his blue eyes on yours with a dangerous calm.

"I am a very meticulous man—both in my business dealings and with the people who work for me," he says in a low, gravelly voice.

"So, you have an obsession with control," you boldly point out.

Satoru tilts his head, a slow, commanding smile spreading across his face.

"I exercise control over absolutely everything, Miss."

However, when you bring up his past and his adoption at the age of four, the warmth vanishes from his face. His posture stiffens, he coldly looks away, and he abruptly changes the subject. The tension in the room grows heavy, almost palpable.

Satoru stands up, walks around his desk, and steps too close to you, subtly boxing you in with his mere presence. Something about your resistance intrigues him deeply.

His secretary interrupts to announce his next meeting. Satoru doesn't even look at her; he raises a hand and clears his schedule for the rest of the day just to stay with you. He offers you an immediate internship at his company, but you shake your head.

"Look at me... I wouldn't fit in here," you say shyly.

—"That’s exactly what I do," he replies with magnetic confidence.

When it’s over, he personally walks you to the elevator. As the metal doors slowly slide shut, his blue eyes never leave yours for a single second. Once you step out onto the street, you finally manage to breathe.

Days later, you are working the afternoon shift at the local hardware store. To your utter surprise, the door opens and Satoru Gojo walks in. Seeing a billionaire tycoon in a place like this feels surreal. He walks up to the counter and asks for a list of highly unusual supplies: industrial-strength adhesive tape, meters of thick silk rope, and reinforced plastic zip ties.

Satoru smiles with fascination as he sees the confused look on your face. He mentions that he agreed to the photoshoot your friend requested for the article, arranging to meet you the following day.

After the shoot, Satoru takes you out for coffee. The tension hasn't eased. Noticing your nervousness, he bluntly orders you to eat your cake.

"You're incredibly arrogant," you say, crossing your arms. "You're always telling me what to do."

"I'm used to things being done my way," he replies unapologetically. But suddenly, his expression shifts to one of distant coldness. He stands up and decides to walk you to the exit. Confused by his change in mood, you ask him directly if he has a girlfriend.

Satoru stops, leans close to your ear, and his warm breath brushes against your skin as he gently caresses your cheek.

"I'm not the kind of man who has girlfriend. I'm not who you think I am. You need to stay away from me..."

That same week, you go out to a bar with your friends. After having too many drinks and with your mind in a state of confusion, you call his private number. You confront him over the phone, venting your frustration about how he shows up, overwhelms you with attention, and then pushes you away. Satoru, realizing you are drunk and vulnerable, completely loses his composure. He demands to know your location, but you hang up.

As you leave the bar, a guy tries to take advantage of your condition and insists on kissing you. You try to push him away, but you’re too weak. Out of nowhere, a firm hand grabs the guy by the neck and slams him hard against the pavement. It’s Satoru. His face reflects blind rage. He catches you in his arms just as your stomach gives way; he holds back your hair while you throw up, and seconds later, you pass out completely against his chest.

You wake up in a huge bed, wrapped in silk sheets in an unfamiliar room, wearing nothing but a men's t-shirt. Satoru enters the room carrying a tray.

"Did you undress me?" you ask, startled.

"I didn't have a choice; your clothes were ruined," he says calmly. "Relax, nothing happened between us. I would never dream of touching an unconscious woman."

He orders you to eat something. Then, with a commanding ease, he takes off his shirt in front of you, revealing his flawless torso before leaning down and playfully biting into your toast.

"Why did you bring me here?" you murmur. Satoru moves closer, gently pinning your hands to the bed.

"Because I can't leave you alone."

**"But listen carefully: I'm not a romantic man. My tastes are very particular... you wouldn't understand."

"Then explain it to me," you challenge, looking him in the eyes. "Don't leave me alone." He caresses your face with restrained devotion, but then pulls away again. He invites you to dinner that night, promising not to kiss you until you allow it.

However, as you step into the private elevator of his penthouse, the tension breaks his composure: he corners you against the mirror and kisses you with a wild, possessive passion until the elevator bell interrupts the moment.

After your shift at the hardware store ends, Satoru’s private driver picks you up and takes you to a helipad. Satoru is waiting with a fascinated smile, ready to take you on a flight over the city in his personal helicopter before landing at his penthouse.

Once inside, he hands you a document: a Non-Disclosure Agreement. He explains that no one can know what happens between the two of you. Confused yet drawn to him, you sign it.

Satoru takes your hand and leads you down a long hallway until you reach two massive, deep-red doors. He pulls a gold key from his trouser pocket. "You can leave whenever you want."

He warns you in a deep voice.

He opens the door. You are stunned by what you see inside: a space defined by luxury. Deep red walls and ceiling, leather, whips, riding crops, paddles, chains. Handcuffs, straps, ropes, a mahogany X-frame, and an iron grid hanging from the ceiling with ropes, chains, and shackles. A canopy bed sits in the center, draped in red satin curtains.

Satoru presents you with a domination contract featuring strict rules. However, you don't want to be a slave; you want dates, romance, and a real relationship. "That’s not what I do," he says. "But if you agree, I will be completely devoted to you. This is what I want, and I want it with you."

You begin to negotiate. You demand the elimination of severe physical punishments and set a condition for having normal dates once a week. Satoru, unable to let you go, yields to your requests and signs the new agreement.

At first, everything seems perfect. Satoru takes you to fancy restaurants; he is attentive and romantic, and even takes you to a formal dinner to introduce you to his parents. But the illusion shatters when you casually mention that you’ll be traveling one weekend to visit your mother.

Satoru’s expression darkens instantly. The mere thought of you slipping out of his control makes him furious. Without warning, he slings you over his shoulder—ignoring your protests—and carries you to the bedroom.

"You’re mine. All mine do you understand?" he declares in a low, dangerous voice.

You confront him, asking why he won't let you touch him freely, why you can't sleep together like a normal couple after sex, and why he finds it so hard to speak of love. Satoru cannot even bring himself to say the word "love." Although he tries to maintain a romantic air, his possessive side takes absolute control. Each session in the red room becomes more intense and demanding, driven by his unhealthy need to dominate you.

One evening, tired of the confinement and the constant scrutiny of your guards, you decide to go out for drinks with your college friends without telling them or answering their calls.

When you return to the penthouse late at night, you find the place in darkness. Satoru is sitting in the center of the main sofa, shirtless, with his arms crossed and a cold expression that makes your blood run cold.

He lifts his blue gaze and points to the floor in front of him.

“Get on your knees. Now.”