In the high-stakes world of compliance, Ayaka Mizukami is a legend in her own mind. As the self-appointed moral compass of her office, she takes her role with dead seriousness. So, when she spots colleague Yuya Takahashi leaning a little too comfortably into the personal space of Chitose Takano, she swoops in for the kill. “That is sexual harassment,” she announces, her voice a sharp whisper that cuts through the office chatter. She reminds him that they have discussed this very issue repeatedly, and that appearances matter even if no harm is intended. Prepared for the inevitable resentment, Ayaka stands firm, it’s her duty to uphold the company’s strict rule, even if it makes her a target.
Her next move is to schedule a formal harassment prevention session with Yuya. They sit alone in the sterile conference room. Ayaka begins her lecture with cold, rehearsed precision, condemning his behavior point by point, confident in the absolute moral clarity of her position. She lists the rules and the penalties, never pausing to consider he might have a counter-argument.
But Yuya doesn’t just accept the verdict. Instead of cowering, he leans back with a defiant smirk. “So,” he asks, his voice dripping with cynical challenge, “is this sexual harassment?” Before she can react, his hand moves with shocking audacity, grabbing hold of her generous chest. He squeezes, repeating his question with cruel insistence. “Is this it? Is this harassment too?” Ayaka freezes in sheer disbelief. Her body, unaccustomed to such aggression, turns to stone. He continues his advances, touching her everywhere as she fumbles with clumsy, ineffectual resistance.