Ton, ton, ton…

Late at night in a luxury apartment.

In the spacious system kitchen, an irregular yet steady rhythm echoed.

"…It hurts. My eyes sting…"

I wiped away my tears with my sleeve as I struggled with the onion in front of me.

This was the thirtieth one.

The homework Papa—no, Mr. Jō—had given me, 'finely chopping one hundred onions,' was still only halfway done.

My hands were covered in wounds.

So many bandages that if my big sister saw them, she would probably panic and call an ambulance.

But strangely enough, there was no pain.

Rather, the lingering, tingling heat at my fingertips vividly brought back the memory of that day.

“Don’t cry. If your tears block your vision, you’ll lose a finger.”

The low voice that crept along the ground as it was whispered into my ear.

The sensation of those large, rough palms enveloping my trembling hands.

The warmth of a chest like steel pressed against my back.

"Fufu…"

Just remembering it made a shiver run down my spine.

Strength flowed into the hand gripping the knife.

Ton!

A slightly louder sound rang out.

The onion was cut cleanly.

I set the knife down and let out a breath.

I looked at myself reflected in the window glass.

The nation’s top idol, Himemiya Alice.

But what stood there was not the 'Nation’s Little Sister' clad in dazzling costumes.

It was just a single child, starving for love.

As I drank cold water, I thought about what was considered 'normal' in this world.

In this world, the existence called 'father' is a fantasy creature.

Just like unicorns and dragons.

They appear in picture books, but do not exist in reality.

At least, not for ordinary people or celebrities like me.

A gender ratio of one to ten.

Men are a 'rare species' and 'pet animals.'

They are strictly protected and kept by wealthy women.

Natural pregnancy is nothing more than a dream reserved for the chosen elite.

That is why most of us are born from 'test tubes.'

A sperm bank.

Genetic data of outstanding men lined up in a catalog.

Height, IQ, medical history, appearance rank.

Mothers choose donors with a shopper’s mindset and give birth through artificial insemination.

My father is nothing more than an identification number.

I have never met him and never will.

To him, I am just one of the many genes he scattered and to me, he is merely a stranger who provided biological seed.

So I grew up without knowing anything like 'paternal affection.'

At home, there was my mother and my big sister.

My mother was always busy and the one who practically raised me was my big sister—Himemiya Maria.

My big sister was perfect.

She loved me, protected me and removed every obstacle.

From how to put on socks to how to choose a job.

The rails of my life were polished to a shine and laid down by her hands.

I think that was 'love.'

But at the same time, it was suffocating.

A sweet sense of asphyxiation, like having one’s neck gently strangled with cotton.

“Alice-chan doesn’t need to do anything. Your big sister will take care of all the dangerous things.”

Like that, I was locked inside a greenhouse called 'ignorance.'

An adorable doll that could do nothing and knew nothing.

Somewhere deep in my heart, I think I had always been yearning for it.

Not the 'maternal affection' that indulges me.

But the 'paternal affection' that would sternly scold me, guide me and set me standing in the world.

An overwhelming strength that throws you into the storm yet absolutely supports you from behind.

But such a man existed nowhere.

The 'cool heroes' on television and screens were all women playing the roles of 'cross-dressed beauties.'

The real men occasionally seen on the news were weak 'pet animals,' overprotected and liable to faint from the slightest stimulation.

I thought that strong, rugged 'males' capable of satisfying my desires had gone extinct in this world.

—Until the day I met that man.

Akutsu Jō. An extraordinary man known as the Demon King.

Meeting him was shocking.

During the recording of a special program, when I whimsically ordered him to 'lick my shoes.'

He grabbed my ankle and instead pinned me down.

“Don’t play queen when you’re a brat who can’t even stand without support.”

At that moment, something inside me broke—and was born.

Fear? No, it was joy.

For the first time, someone treated me as 'one human being' and scolded me.

And then, this cooking show.

I didn’t even know how to hold a knife.

Because of my ignorance, I almost injured myself.

My big sister screamed, “It’s dangerous! Stop!”

That was correct.

An action meant to protect me.

But Mr. Jō was different.

“Don’t run. Don’t fear fire. Control it.”

He did not take the blade away from me.

Instead, he taught me the proper way to use it and made me cook with my own hands.

Rather than banning it as 'dangerous,' he granted me the skill to 'master danger.'

The absolute sense of security when I was fixed in place by a back hug.

Despite the strength that could easily overpower my will, there was not the slightest hint of violent fear.

What existed was trust, like a massive rock.

An instinctive peace that said, If I leave it to this person, everything will be fine.

'…Ah, so this is it.'

I felt my chest grow hot.

'This is what a father is…'

Not data from a catalog.

True paternal affection that protects me, raises me and makes me independent.

An 'ideal image of a father' that appeared like a miracle in this twisted world.

Now that I know it, I can’t go back.

Success as a mere idol and a greenhouse life protected by my big sister both look faded.

I want it.

Those warm hands.

That stern voice.

That makes me 'human.'

Click.

A sound came from the living room.

Startled, I peeked out from behind the kitchen wall.

Sitting on the sofa was my big sister.

The room lights were off and only the glow of a large monitor illuminated her face.

On the screen was today’s recorded episode of Together with the Demon King.

It was the scene where Mr. Jō reached around from behind me and made me grip the knife.

"…Disgusting…"

My big sister muttered as if in a trance.

"Touching my angel… that barbaric man… muscle brute…"

The words were a curse.

But her expression was different.

Her eyes behind the glasses were moist and her cheeks were flushed to an impossible degree.

"But… the way he… protected Alice-chan…"

My big sister hugged her own upper arm and twisted her body.

"What I… couldn’t teach her… in such a rough way… but frustratingly… perfect education…"

Mr. Jō on the screen whispered to me.

“Don’t cry.”

At that instant, my big sister’s shoulders jerked.

"…So cool…"

Her true feelings slipped out.

Startled, she covered her mouth and stopped the video with the remote.

Then she buried her face in a cushion and kicked her legs.

"W-What was that feeling just now! I’m supposed to be Alice-chan’s substitute mom! I won’t acknowledge a man like that! …But those arms… thick… veins… haa haa…"

…I saw it.

The moment the iron woman, Himemiya Maria, fell.

Even my big sister, a severe siscon, cannot resist the pull of that 'paternal affection.'

Rather, because she is so responsible and has carried me alone, she might long to lean on that 'reliability.'

'…She’s a rival.'

I analyzed calmly.

Not just the residents of the Demon King’s Castle like Karen-san and Hibiki-san.

Even my own big sister is on the verge of becoming a 'female' targeting Mr. Jō.

But I won’t lose.

Because I am going to become Mr. Jō’s 'daughter.'

I gripped the knife once more.

On the cutting board lay onions still half-chopped.

I hear there are already three women around Mr. Jō.

Apparently, an ironclad fortress called the 'Harem Agreement' has been built.

Normally, there wouldn’t be any opening to slip into.

But that’s precisely why it’s 'daughter.'

Even if the seats for lover and wife are full, the seat for a 'troublesome child' is empty.

An education-minded Mr. Jō wouldn’t be able to abandon someone as immature as me, with so many things that need teaching.

"…One hundred might not be enough."

I grinned.

It was not the smile of the 'Nation’s Little Sister' directed at the cameras.

It was the smile of a greedy woman stalking her prey—and of a twisted child longing for her father.

"Wait for me, Papa. Once this homework is done, I’ll come have you give me even more 'education.'"

Ton, ton, ton, ton.

In the silent room, the sound of the knife echoed.

Like the footsteps of an advancing army toward the Demon King’s Castle, it continued to carve out a powerful, steady rhythm.

My 'family plan' has only just begun.