"Mr. Henk-san! That's really something: the idiot came up with this name for himself!" I grumble under my breath as I pass through the turnstile, heading towards the train carriage through a crowd of equally sleepy workers.

He's not Hank at all; he's Haruki. He or Americans came up with that name when he studied in the States. It feels like they just couldn't bother to use their brains a bit to remember his name. Look at how cool I am! My parents are so rich that I can study abroad, and I even have foreign friends who can't remember my name. Oh, Hank-sempai, you must be so proud of yourself.

My dad just wants me to date him and, eventually, marry the son of his big boss. Mr. Hank will inherit and take over his father's business, my dad will get a promotion, our families will unite, and we'll live happily ever after. I can already see my dad bonding with his boss, going fishing or having a drink together.

My parents don't even realize that Mr. Hank's wealthy parents just want to train their incompetent horndog and marry him off to any modest girl from an average family: she'll quietly take care of the household, and he might stop (for a while) fuck fancy girls in those elite clubs where he supposedly goes with his friends, according to a gossip secretary from dad's work.

I fit perfectly into the category of his future wife: quiet, hardworking, love children, polite, always bowing as if I'm a poor servant from the past, not flaunting my life on TikTok or Instagram, not brightly coloring myself like a ganguro girl, dressing like an office plankton (a couple of trouser suits and crisply ironed white blouses) – a good sign of an obedient bride and docile wife, and just a terrible starter pack for a perennial relationship failure.

A seat opens up in the train, and I sit down, rubbing my neck stiff from working at the computer.

Mr. Hank is not a problem for me. If my parents push too much, I'll just permanently stay overnight at work, save up money, and rent a small room with someone from work. Later, my parents will regret it! I can't help but smile, imagining them begging me to stay at home.

Jokes aside, my mom is right about one thing; I should read fantasy books and play computer games less. My last escapist fantasy was too real, almost excessively so. It's like I've immersed myself in my fantasy world completely. Maybe I should register on a dating site? But it could be dangerous: I'd have to upload my real photo and say something about myself. What if someone I know from my former classmates or relatives finds out that I'm lesbian? The image of a beautiful princess-dragon flashed before my eyes and immediately faded when a guy in a strict business suit stood in front of me. I mentally tried to remember if I left my unfinished yuri manga on the desk in my room, but then I remembered it's in my bag. Great, I'll have something to secretly read during lunch break.

Dragons, witches, fair ladies, fateful entanglements, abductions, adventures, and unrestrained romance with a giant dose of erotica and a bit of beautiful porn – everything a twenty-one-year-old, modest, inexperienced girl with no personal life and constantly-busy-at-work-mode needs.

❣️ ❣️ ❣️

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