Chapter 19: Foot Fetish?

Watching his young and beautiful wife flee the bathroom like a startled rabbit, Nakano Masao’s lips curved ever so slightly into a faint, almost imperceptible smile.

From the fragmented memories of the original host, he knew that the couple had not shared a bed for several years.

As for the reason?

Perhaps it was the man’s deeply rooted inferiority complex, or perhaps some unspeakable impotence—so much so that he could only install hidden cameras in secret corners, peeping into his wife’s daily life to gain a shred of illusory comfort and control.

Such petty, distorted thoughts, as insignificant as insects, did not interest him in the slightest.

Precisely because of this, Risa’s earlier shock and stiffness at his sudden invitation to “scrub his back” seemed entirely reasonable to him.

It was merely a conditioned response shaped by past experience.

A pity—she had been standing behind him just now, and due to the angle, he hadn’t been able to admire once more those feet that had pleased him so much.

At the thought, a trace of near-pure appreciation flickered in his deep eyes.

It was not human desire, but more like a demanding collector’s fondness for the perfect curvature of a piece of porcelain.

Delicate skin, fine bone structure, toenails painted a pale cherry pink that seemed to glow faintly… if not for the more pressing trouble he currently faced, he might have already been unable to resist holding those art-like feet in his hands, examining and caressing them at leisure.

As for the owner of those “art pieces”… he thought idly,

When the time came, it wouldn’t hurt to grant her a bit of extra “favor.”

After all, she bore the title of his “wife,” and maintaining the outward harmony of that relationship was beneficial to his current state of concealment.

His thoughts shifted slightly, and he raised his right hand, making a casual gesture.

A yokai that had been silently hanging upside down in the shadows of the bathroom ceiling—shaped like a twisted fire lizard, with dark red patterns circling its body—immediately opened its narrow maw. A concentrated stream of bluish-white flame, seemingly solid and yet terrifyingly hot, shot out and precisely struck the area beneath his shoulder blade.

Hiss—

A faint burning sound followed, along with a trace of icy white vapor forcibly evaporated.

There, a strange wound of deep bluish color, its edges constantly trying to spread outward, shrank slightly under the scorching flames, as if encountering its natural enemy. The area of cold, deathly stillness visibly reduced.

Pain surged through him, yet Nakano Masao didn’t even furrow his brow—he merely narrowed his eyes.

This wound… contained a special purifying cold poison, clinging like a parasite to his spiritual core, constantly eroding it.

This crude “fire refinement” was nothing more than drinking poison to quench thirst—merely delaying its spread.

The biting cold from the wound and the searing pain of the flames intertwined, constantly reminding him of the urgency of time.

To completely eradicate it, he would have to find that legendary item… a vague clue flashed through his mind.

Continuing like this—passively suppressing it—would be no different from a slow death.

Judging by the current rate of erosion, at most two months remained before this temporary body would collapse first, exposing his spirit to endless purifying agony.

After finishing his bath, he changed into a dry yukata and returned to the living room, watching the flickering images on the TV with an expressionless face.

Human entertainment was hollow and dull to him.

Next was Nobuhito’s turn to bathe. The boy moved in and out silently, like a quiet shadow.

Finally, it was Risa’s turn.

When she finished bathing and stepped out wrapped tightly in her robe, carrying with her the warmth and moisture of steam, the living room was already empty.

Nakano Masao had left.

Looking at the vacant room, Risa sighed inwardly.

It was time for the hardest part of the day—going to sleep.

Sharing a room with that “thing,” even sleeping separately, made her feel like she was lying on a bed of needles.

But what choice did she have?

She lingered in the living room for a while, slowly finishing a glass of water, before finally forcing herself upstairs.

In the bedroom, the scene was no different from yesterday.

The man was already lying on his futon, his back to the door, seemingly asleep.

The dim night lamp outlined his quiet silhouette.

Risa tiptoed to her own bedding, about to lie down quickly and wrap herself in the blanket like a cocoon—

“Risa.” The man’s voice suddenly sounded, clear in the silence.

She froze. “…Yes?”

“Come sit here for a moment.” His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.

Her heart began to race again.

After hesitating for a second, she slowly moved to the edge of his bedding and knelt down carefully. “…Honey, is there something else?”

The man didn’t answer. He simply turned onto his side.

In the dim light, he reached out and precisely grasped her exposed ankle beneath the robe.

The moment his cool fingertips touched her skin, Risa trembled involuntarily.

Just like last night, his fingers began to move slowly, lingering over her slender ankle and the top of her foot with a sense of inspection—or perhaps appreciation.

His fingertips traced the curve of her foot, occasionally brushing over her rounded toes.

The sensation was clear and prolonged, carrying a non-human chill that sent waves of goosebumps through her—mixed with fear, shame, and an indescribable shiver.

Could it be… he really had a foot fetish?

That absurd thought surfaced again in her mind.

A being suspected to be a powerful yokai, so fixated on a human woman’s feet?

Just as she endured this strange “caress” in rigid discomfort, her mind unsettled—

At the edge of her vision, the system interface, which had remained dormant, suddenly appeared. A new line of text quietly refreshed:

[Fake · Nakano Masao’s favorability toward you +10.]

[Current favorability: 30 (indifferent → slightly interested)]

Risa’s eyes widened slightly in the darkness.

Huh?

This… works too?

Just from letting him touch her feet, the favorability increased?

This way of increasing it… was far too strange—and deeply unsettling.

“…We’re going to the zoo tomorrow, honey. We should get some rest early.”

Suppressing the uneasy sensation from her ankle, Risa spoke in as steady and natural a tone as possible.

The man’s movements paused slightly.

In the darkness, he seemed to glance at her—his gaze almost tangible, making her hold her breath.

After a moment, he slowly released her, his fingertips brushing lightly across her foot one last time.

“Mm. Sleep.”

Risa immediately pulled her foot back, murmured a quiet “Good night,” and quickly retreated to her bedding. She burrowed into the blanket, turning her back to him and squeezing her eyes shut.

Early the next morning, as the sky just began to lighten, her preset alarm rang.

“Mm…” Risa struggled awake from shallow sleep, immediately silencing the alarm and glancing warily to the side—the man’s bedding was already empty.

He always woke up this early.

According to the Nakano household’s habits, breakfast was miso soup with white rice.

Busy in the kitchen, she carefully controlled the heat, bringing out the flavor of tofu and seaweed in the soup, and frying a golden rolled omelet.

Though her movements weren’t as smooth as those in the original owner’s memory, she managed to make it look decent.

When she set the breakfast on the table, Nobuhito was already seated quietly.

Nakano Masao soon came downstairs as well, dressed in a casual shirt, his expression as calm as ever.

“Morning,” he said, taking a seat.

“Good morning, honey. Morning, Nobuhito.” Risa arranged the bowls and chopsticks, forcing a bright, energetic smile. “The weather’s nice today—perfect for going to the zoo.”

Nobuhito gave a simple “Mm” and lowered his head to drink his soup.

Nakano Masao took a sip of the miso soup. He made no comment, nor did he criticize—just continued eating quietly.

The atmosphere at the table remained mostly silent, but perhaps due to yesterday’s subtle shift in “favorability,” Risa felt that the man’s occasional glances toward her now carried a faint, indescribable… attention?

No—more like a quiet scrutiny, as if observing subtle changes in an object.

It made her even more cautious, even her chewing quieter than before.

Soon, the family of three gathered at the entrance.

Risa carried a small bag with water bottles and tissues, Nobuhito had his own backpack, and Nakano Masao held the car keys—he had decided to drive today.

“Is everything ready?” the man turned, his gaze sweeping over his wife and son.

“Ready,” Risa nodded.

Nobuhito responded as well, his eyes flicking briefly between his father and mother before he stepped forward and opened the front door.

Sunlight poured in, illuminating the entryway.