Chapter 244 | Being A Good Boyfriend vs. Deep Tissue Shiatsu
Chapter 244: 244 | Being A Good Boyfriend vs. Deep Tissue Shiatsu
Jordan paused at the entrance to the private bathing area, his hand already reaching for his phone. The hallway smelled like cedar and something floral he couldn’t identify, and the wooden floor was warm under his bare feet because Ayaka had already taken his shoes with the gentle insistence of someone who would not accept refusal.
He dialed Chloe.
She picked up on the second ring. "You’re late. Kumiko is reorganizing my streaming overlays and I’m going to lose my mind if she changes the font one more time."
"Babe."
"Don’t ’babe’ me when you’re supposed to be—"
"I own a hot springs resort."
The line went quiet for four full seconds. Jordan counted them.
"Say that again."
"Hada no Yu. It’s in Newport Beach. Traditional Japanese onsen. Natural mineral springs. Five staff members. I’m standing in the hallway right now and there’s a woman in a kimono waiting to give me a bath."
Another three seconds of silence.
"Jordan McKnight, if this is some kind of—"
"I’m sending you the address. Bring Kumiko. Tell them Jordan sent you when you get to the front desk and ask for the VIP treatment."
In the background, a sound pierced through Chloe’s phone speaker that could only be described as a human being converting pure joy into acoustic energy. Kumiko’s squeal hit a frequency that probably registered on seismic equipment somewhere in Orange County.
"JORDAN-KUN HAS A WHAT?!"
"Kumi heard that," Chloe said flatly.
"The entire building heard that."
"HOT SPRINGS?! LIKE IN ANIME?! CHLOE-CHAN WE HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW IMMEDIATELY THIS SECOND I’M GETTING MY TOWEL—"
"We’ll be there in thirty minutes." Chloe’s voice had shifted into that businesswoman register, the one that meant her brain was already cataloging implications and opportunities. "You’re going to explain every single detail of how you acquired real estate in Newport Beach since this morning."
"Forty-five minutes. Traffic on PCH is bad this time of day."
"Thirty-five. I know a shortcut through the back streets."
"Of course you do."
"Jordan." Her voice dropped half an octave. "Is this real?"
He looked down the hallway where Ayaka stood with her hands folded, that knowing smile still playing on her full lips, the silver embroidery on her kimono catching the soft light from the paper lanterns. Behind him, Kaori hummed a tune in the kitchen while assembling what smelled like another round of sweets nobody had asked for. Somewhere on the grounds, Tomoe was probably bench-pressing a decorative boulder for fun.
"Yeah, Chloe. This is real."
"We’re leaving now. Kumiko just knocked over my ring light trying to find her shoes."
The line went dead.
Jordan pocketed his phone and stood in the cedar-scented hallway for a moment, processing the fact that his life had become a light novel with tax implications. A month ago he was a virgin who cried into takeout containers and hadn’t changed his sheets in three months. Now he owned a luxury wellness establishment that the System had apparently willed into existence, complete with a history, a client base, and a staff of five women who called him Master.
His phone buzzed. Kumiko.
"JORDAN-KUN WE ARE IN THE CAR CHLOE IS DRIVING VERY FAST THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE I LOVE YOU I LOVE HOT SPRINGS I LOVE EVERYTHING"
Followed immediately by:
"also chloe says slow down but she is the one driving 47 in a 35"
Jordan typed back a single heart emoji and locked his phone.
"Master Jordan."
Ayaka had materialized beside him. The woman moved like smoke through the corridors, silent and graceful and present before you realized she’d approached. Up close, the details of her kimono became clearer. Wisteria blossoms in silver thread cascaded down the deep purple fabric, each one sewn with individual precision that suggested either machine perfection or inhuman patience. The collar of the garment sat low enough to reveal the pale curve of her throat and the first suggestion of what the System had classified, with its usual lack of subtlety, as a J-cup.
Jordan was not going to think about that classification. He was going to be a professional business owner inspecting his newly acquired property.
"Your guests," Ayaka continued, her voice warm honey poured over silk. "How would you like them received?"
"VIP. Full treatment. Whatever the best package is." Jordan thought for a moment. "Actually, have Yumi handle them personally when they arrive. They’re... important to me."
Ayaka’s eyes sparkled with something that bordered on delight. "Yumi-chan?"
"Is that a problem?"
"Not at all. It is simply..." The corner of Ayaka’s mouth curved upward. "Yumi tends to perform exceptionally when she has a mission she considers meaningful. Knowing your guests hold personal significance will give her the confidence she needs to overcome her shyness."
"Good." Jordan nodded. "One of them is named Chloe. Dark hair, blue streak, will probably ask seventeen questions about your business model within the first five minutes. The other is Kumiko. Twin tails, pink ribbons, will probably try to hug every staff member she meets and ask if she can take photos of everything."
"They sound delightful."
"They’re going to love this place."
"And you, Master?" Ayaka tilted her head, loose strands of black hair falling across her cheekbone. "You mentioned muscle soreness from your training session. Perhaps a massage would be beneficial before you join your guests?"
Jordan’s body answered before his brain could intervene. Every muscle from his shoulders to his calves screamed yes with the collective enthusiasm of cells that had been punched, kicked, and generally abused by Maya Santos for the better part of an hour. His ribs still ached from that body hook she’d landed in round two.
"What kind of massage?"
"I am trained in traditional Japanese shiatsu as well as several Western modalities." Ayaka’s smile never wavered, never changed, but somehow communicated volumes. "I would recommend a deep tissue treatment focusing on your upper back and shoulders, with particular attention to any areas of acute tension. The session typically lasts sixty minutes, though I can adjust based on your needs."
"You do the massages yourself?"
"I am... multitalented, Master Jordan." Her eyes held his for a beat longer than necessary. "Shall I prepare the treatment room?"
Every rational thought in Jordan’s head told him to wait for Chloe and Kumiko. To be a good boyfriend. To not get a massage from a woman the System had literally described as "an alluring tormentor who delights in teasing you until you are a blushing, stammering mess."
His back spasmed.
Maya’s uppercut to his kidney region sent a fresh wave of pain through his torso.
"Yeah," Jordan said. "Let’s do it."