Chronolust Temptation [18+] High S*xual Content
Shigeru Refusal [Bad End.1]

Hayao’s grip on the stopwatch tightened, its dark pulse throbbing in his hand, but Nanako’s broken sobs, raw and wrenching, cut through the artifact’s seductive haze. Shigeru’s offer—a blonde foreigner in exchange for selling Nanako into a life of slavery—hung heavy, the words twisting Hayao’s gut with a mix of temptation and revulsion. 

He looked at Nanako, lying on the floor, her tear-streaked face buried in her knees, her school uniform torn, her body shaking. Shigeru’s grin, sly and predatory, made Hayao’s skin crawl; this wasn’t the friend he knew. The stopwatch urged him to take the deal, to dive deeper into its power, but something—guilt, possessiveness, or a flicker of humanity—held him back.

“No,” Hayao said, his voice low and rough, eyes narrowing at Shigeru. “I’m not selling her. Nanako’s mine. Thank you, but no thanks. Leave us for a bit, I want another go with her.” The words were possessive, laced with the artifact’s influence, but they carried a finality that made Shigeru’s grin falter.

Shigeru’s eyes darkened, his lanky frame tensing, but he shrugged, zipping up his hoodie. “Your loss, man,” he muttered, casting one last hungry glance at Nanako before grabbing his bag of snacks and slipping out the door. 

The apartment fell silent, save for Nanako’s choked sobs.

Hayao turned to her, the stopwatch’s pulse reigniting his desire, drowning out the guilt. “Get up,” he growled, his voice cold as he yanked her to her knees by her arm. Nanako, still reeling, gasped, her eyes wide with fear and resignation, the threat of the footage looming over her. He didn’t hesitate, shoving her against the bed, her torn skirt riding up to expose her shaved pussy, slick and raw, but as of yet still untouched. 

“You’re still mine, you filthy slut,” he snarled, unzipping his school trousers and freeing his hardening cock. He grabbed her hips, flipping her onto her stomach, and rammed into her pussy, the tight heat swallowing him as he thrust with savage force, her muffled cries echoing into the mattress.

Nanako’s hands clawed at the sheets, her body shaking under his relentless pounding, the wet slap of their bodies filling the room. 

“Hayao, please,” she whimpered, her voice breaking, but the stopwatch’s magic twisted her pain into a faint, unwilling moan, her pussy clenching around him as he fucked her harder, his hands bruising her hips. 

The artifact’s pulse amplified every sensation, her slick heat and desperate cries pushing him to the edge. With a guttural groan, he came hard, spilling deep inside her, his body shuddering as he collapsed over her, the room heavy with the stench of sweat and sex. Nanako lay still, her sobs quieting, her spirit battered but not broken.

He pulled out, leaving her crumpled on the bed, and tucked the stopwatch into his pocket, its weight a constant reminder of his control. “Go home,” he muttered, his voice flat, the afterglow dulling his urgency. Nanako scrambled to gather her torn clothes, her movements shaky as she fled the room without a word, the door slamming behind her.

Over the next few days, Hayao’s life unraveled. Nanako didn’t return to school; her absence left a gaping void in the art room, her usual sketches missing from the walls. He tried to bury himself in routine—classes, manga, the hum of Tasaka City—but the stopwatch’s pulse haunted him, its dark whispers fading but leaving guilt in their wake. He kept the artifact hidden in his drawer, vowing not to use it again, but the footage on his computer loomed like a ticking bomb, a secret he couldn’t erase.

Just before graduation, everything collapsed. Hayao was in his room, scrolling through his phone, when a loud knock shook the apartment. His mother, Mai, answered, her voice sharp with worry. “Hayao, now!” He stepped into the living room, his heart sinking as he saw three police officers, their faces stern, badges glinting under the morning light. Behind them stood Nanako, her eyes red but resolute, and Shigeru, his lanky frame tense, his gaze hard with betrayal. Nanako’s mother hovered nearby, her face a mask of fury, her voice cutting through the air. “You monster, you ruined my daughter!”

“Hayao Tanaka,” the lead officer said, his tone icy, “you’re under arrest for sexual assault and coercion.” The words hit like a blade, his knees buckling as Mai gasped, her hands clutching her nurse’s scrubs, tears welling in her eyes. 

“No, this can’t be right!” she cried, but the officers moved forward, one grabbing Hayao’s arm, the cold snap of handcuffs biting into his wrists.

Nanako’s voice was steady but raw, her eyes meeting his for the first time since that night. “You used me, Hayao. You and your fucking video. But Shigeru helped me. We told them everything.” Shigeru nodded, his jaw tight, his earlier lust replaced by a burning anger. “You’re done, man,” he said, his voice low. “Nanako told me what you did, how you threatened her. I couldn’t let it slide.”

Hayao’s mind reeled, the stopwatch’s absence in his pocket a hollow weight. He’d underestimated Nanako’s strength, her resolve to fight back, and Shigeru’s loyalty to her. The footage, still on his computer, had been found—Nanako and Shigeru had gone to the police, piecing together her fragmented memories and his own reluctant confession of that night’s horrors. The officers had searched his room, uncovering the video, its grainy evidence damning him beyond redemption.

The apartment hallway felt suffocating, neighbors’ whispers stinging like knives as they led him to the police car, its lights flashing red and blue in the morning haze. 

Mai followed, her sobs echoing, “Hayao, why?” But he had no answer, his head bowed as they shoved him into the back seat, the city blurring past as they drove to the juvenile detention center.

At the center, a stark, gray building on Tasaka City’s edge, Hayao was processed with cold efficiency—fingerprints smudged, mugshot taken, his school uniform swapped for a rough jumpsuit. The cell door slammed shut, the clang reverberating like a final judgment, locking him in a small, barren room with a single bunk and a barred window. The other boys avoided him, their murmurs branding him a predator, the weight of his actions isolating him in the sterile silence.

Weeks later, at his hearing, the courtroom was a blur of stern faces and legal jargon. Nanako’s testimony, delivered through tears, her coerced submission, and the footage’s threat. Shigeru corroborated, admitting his own complicity but emphasizing Hayao’s manipulation. The judge, a severe woman with graying hair, sentenced Hayao to three years in juvenile detention, her voice cold as she cited the severity of his coercion and assault. Mai wept in the gallery, her face buried in her hands, while Nanako and Shigeru sat together, their hands clasped, a united front against him.

As the guards led Hayao back to his cell, the stopwatch—still hidden in his room—felt like a ghost, its power a lie that had promised control but delivered ruin. 

Nanako’s face, her strength in exposing him, haunted him, a reminder that his twisted desires had cost him everything.

The End

Rewind time back to the start...