A loud crash immediately startled everyone in the room.
Asano Anna scrambled awake and just barely saw the heel of a high-heeled shoe nearly crush her face, the spike puncturing the carpet. She screamed in terror and scrambled backward, using her arms to push herself away.
Hatamoto Akiyo, raising her foot, stumbled in surprise. Seeing Anna narrowly avoid injury, her eyes burned with fury, but her anger quickly shifted toward the doorway.
She wanted to see which careless fool had entered.
It was Diana who walked in, but the person pushing the door wasn't her—it was another young woman.
The young woman looked about Anna's age, just out of school. Her long, black hair flowed straight down past her waist, and her cold eyes fearlessly met Hatamoto Akiyo's burning glare.
Seeing the situation in the room, Diana's expression turned cold, and she calmly said, "Madam Hatamoto, our club cannot tolerate this behavior. Your membership has been terminated, and your fees will not be refunded."
The young woman stepped over to Asano Anna and helped her to her feet. From the strength she used, it was clear she had effortlessly lifted her.
"What—Diana?! Are you insane?! Do you know how many of my sisters are members here?!"
"You have three minutes. Get out."
It was the young woman, who had remained silent until now, speaking. Her presence exuded a terrifying coldness and authority that could intimidate even many men.
Immediately, two tall men in black appeared at the doorway.
The barrels of their guns pointed directly at Hatamoto Akiyo's head. Not only Akiyo, but even Asano Anna was stunned into silence—she was just a regular employee.
Akiyo had intended to continue shouting insults, but now she quickly closed her mouth, swallowing all her words.
She had always known that the Polestar Club had powerful backing.
It was precisely because of that knowledge that she dared to act so brazenly today.
But it seemed she had miscalculated—she had run straight into the barrel of a gun.
Despite her temper, facing Diana and the young woman's cold stares, along with the dark gun barrels, Akiyo's mind quickly regained clarity.
"I—I'm leaving, I'll go immediately."
Hatamoto Akiyo forced a flattering, pleading smile, full of desperation to survive. She raised both hands submissively, and her fashionable outfit seemed incongruous with her servile posture.
"I told you to leave."
The young woman's emotionless words froze Akiyo in place for ten seconds.
Facing the cold gun, she didn't even dare look at the young woman's face.
"I—I understand. Please, give me some time."
Gritting her teeth, her face paler than if she were crying, she quickly folded her skirt into a roll, choosing a posture suitable for rolling. She tumbled on the carpet like a spindle.
Holding her face, she bit her lip and pushed with her hips, rolling across the carpet in a comical fashion.
She moved quickly, and after only a few rolls, the two men in black stepped aside, following to supervise her exit.
Not far from the hallway, the sound of a heavy object rolling down the stairs could be heard. No one cared if Akiyo got hurt—there was a red carpet on the stairs, so it shouldn't be too bad.
Only then did Asano Anna recover from her shock. Her body trembled slightly, and she didn't dare speak. She bowed to the young woman and Diana before retreating.
"Actually, there's no need to go this far."
"Aunt Diana."
"All right, I won't say anything more."
"Although our club has its troubles, it's not a place where just anyone can bully their way in."
The young woman paused, then added coldly, "Next time… next time, sink them all into Tokyo Bay."
Despite the terrifying decisiveness in her words, she spoke with calm and unwavering eyes. She always followed through.
Diana smiled wryly. The young woman's methods were even fiercer than her father's.
She thought it might be unwise—rigidity breaks easily—but she had no right to criticize. Otherwise, they might be the next ones under attack tomorrow.
—
This was Koji Shimizu's second time performing at the Polestar Club.
Compared to his first sudden appearance, the audience below was now prepared, or perhaps, already anticipating him.
Word had spread that this "Piano Prince" had already caused a sensation among the regulars.
After his last performance, many had come to the club inquiring about him, even offering Diana five million yen for information.
As Hatamoto Akiyo had said, everyone knew what this place was about.
Yet the Polestar Club wasn't just a host club—it had a bar, nightlife, elegant theaters, and musical performances.
It was like an omnivorous animal: sophisticated and advanced for a business in an industry with little regulation.
Much like the women who came—innocent in appearance, but not so easily understood beneath the surface.
Sitting at the piano under a cold white spotlight, Shimizu's black tailcoat-clad figure moved gracefully. His hands and profile, his tall and elegant nose—all these alone stirred the audience's excitement, their breathing gradually rising.
A simple, classic, yet elegant Canon played as tonight's prelude.
At the end, thunderous applause erupted, as if attending a full-scale concert.
Shimizu hesitated, then flipped through his sheet music. The audience fell silent, and he finally stopped at Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.
He felt his skills had recently improved. Mastering the "Sharingan" had subtly enhanced all his abilities.
Fingers lightly pressing, black and white keys danced under his touch.
The elegant melody, lively yet refined, filled the room. What was meant to be an intimate, leisurely atmosphere suddenly felt like a world-class music hall.
For the women here—office ladies drinking to unwind, housewives secretly seeking a private escape—the music struck at their hearts.
They sought indulgence, breaking rules, freedom, and—mundane pleasure.
Now, with notes flying straight into their souls, they realized elegance could exist here too.
No, more than that.
The piano prince on stage moved with delicate skill, while the darkened room's atmosphere rippled seductively. Many office ladies, noblewomen, and wives unconsciously crossed and shifted their legs in rhythm.
Eyes glimmered, glances exchanged, desire flickering.
In the VIP room upstairs, the young woman and Diana, previously engrossed in conversation, now glanced toward the boy playing piano.
But after only a brief moment, they returned their gaze downward.
Diana's expression shifted. She briefly regretted it.
Shimizu had indeed achieved the effect she expected—and it was surprisingly effective. Given their current situation, this might not be a good thing.
But she quickly dismissed her fleeting softness.
At this point, with the club's reputation rapidly spreading by word of mouth, they couldn't do without Koji Shimizu.
"He's not taking customers?" the young woman asked coolly.
She didn't seem particularly interested but noted it might be a waste.
Diana chuckled softly. "He's just a student."
And with that, their conversation moved on.
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