It made sense. All of it. Renji realized it in that tiny moment.

Simply entering a milf's house couldn't suffice. The milf has to have invited him in first of all, one way or the other. She probably doesn't have to be the one by the door, or the one who directly permitted him inside.

As long as he entered through her permission or consent in any different channel, that was the true threshold to allow for the Milf Note's magic.

He remembered the other times:

"Oh, whatever. Come inside and get to it." Reina had said before he stepped into her house to do the chores.

"Get in, Renji. Let's get this over with." Haruka had said before he entered her house for tutoring.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Pick up a box, come in, and place it in the kitchen." Miyu had snapped before Renji entered inside to pack in the supplies.

"Renji's had a rough day. He got mixed up with some bad kids—nothing serious—but he did the right thing and called it in. I bailed him out, and now he's our guest. So you better be nice."

"Now let him in."

That had been Mrs. Endo's own permission just before Renji entered the Endo family home.

So now he knew for sure; entering a milf's house wasn't all that was required. Invitation or permission was necessary.

This new information made him realize that most of the plans he had back then for Mrs. Hoshizawa weren't going to work anyway, and he was grateful that he'd found out now before trying it.

Now he knew, he had to start modifying most of the plans he already had for the other milf targets. However, for now, only one milf was set in his sights.

Ms. Kaori Katsura.

Renji stepped over the apartment threshold with a reverence he had never shown any woman before, because this time it was real.

This was his most difficult claim and he was going to make sure he enjoyed it.

The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them inside the quiet, jasmine-scented sanctuary of Ms Katsura's apartment.

Everything was exactly as he remembered from his frantic break-in an hour earlier, yet completely different now that he wasn't an intruder but an actual guest.

Renji looked around the place, acting like this was his first time seeing what he was seeing.

For the most part, it was.

During his frantic breaking in and name writing earlier, he had barely noticed the windows lining one wall, letting the last amber rays of sunset spill across polished oak floors and a low white sectional sofa so pristine it looked like it had never been sat on.

He saw a cute-looking glass coffee table that reflected the city lights. Bookshelves lined the opposite wall, color-coded spines in perfect rows: classic literature on the left, modern Japanese novels in the middle, pedagogy and psychology texts on the right.

A single potted monstera sat in the corner, its leaves glossy and dust-free.

The kitchen was open-plan, marble countertops gleaming under recessed lighting, a kettle already beginning to hiss softly on the induction stove.

Everything smelled faintly of green tea and the crisp, expensive perfume Ms Katsura always wore. It was like cold steel wrapped in flowers.

"I'll be with you in a moment," she said.

Renji turned around to see her slip off her low heels gracefully, she picked them up and carefully lined them beside his scuffed school shoes, the contrast almost comical.

Renji wondered how shaken she must have been for her to still be in her work outfit even now. He tried not to look when she bent over to arrange the shoes, but her body was just so hot under those clothes.

The cream silk blouse tucked into a charcoal pencil skirt that hugged the dramatic curve of her hips and the swell of her ass so perfectly it looked painted on.

When she stood up and turned to him, his eyes immediately noticed the top two buttons of her blouse which were already undone from the day's stress.

He saw the delicate lace edge of a white bra and the soft upper slopes of breasts that strained against the fabric with every breath.

He looked away quickly, hoping she hadn't noticed as that would only make matters worse for him.

"Go and take a seat, Renji. Right there," she said. Her voice was softer than it had been at Haruka's apartment but still edged with that teacherly authority. "I'll make tea. It helps calm the nerves."

Renji nodded, throat dry, and lowered himself onto the edge of the sectional.

The leather was cool against the backs of his thighs, and the air conditioner felt nice on his neck.

From where he sat, he could see her move in the kitchen, every motion precise, economical, yet undeniably sensual: the way her skirt stretched across her ass when she reached for the tin of sencha, the soft clink of porcelain cups, the faint rustle of silk as her blouse shifted.

The kettle clicked off. Steam curled around her face as she poured, carrying the bitter, grassy scent of green tea through the apartment.

Renji had wanted to write her name before she returned, but he couldn't risk it. He needed to wait for the perfect time.

She carried the tray herself—two pale celadon cups, a small ceramic pot, no sugar—and set it on the coffee table with a gentle clink.

Then she sat opposite him, legs crossed, skirt riding just high enough to reveal the lacy tops of sheer black stockings and a sliver of pale thigh.

"To be frank, Renji, I have to thank you for coming," she began, fingers wrapped around her cup as if it were an anchor. "When I got home and saw the door splintered… I thought they might still be inside. Ngh… I've never felt so violated."

Holding back a guilty gulp, Renji leaned forward, elbows on knees, forcing concern into his voice. "How exactly did you find it, Teach? Was it wide open?"

Kaori exhaled slowly, eyes flicking to the entranceway where faint scuff marks still marred the white paint. "I came home around thirty minutes ago. The lock was damaged. It was wide open but the door was… slightly ajar. I pushed it open with my foot in case someone was waiting."

"I waited outside for a while because I was too scared to go in. But when no one came out, I went to check if anything was stolen. But everything was fine. Nothing was taken. Just my door had been tampered with. I called the police immediately."

"Sounds like they saw what you had and are going to call for backup to help collect more stuff."

Kaori's eyes widened. "Oh, Renji. Don't say that."

Renji forced a light chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, you've got your own personal bodyguard now. If anyone tries to come back, they'll have to get through me first."

A tiny, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her lips. It was barely there, but it was the first crack in the ice.

The conversation drifted inevitably to the elephant in the room.

Kaori set her cup down with a soft clink. "Let's have that talk now, Renji. Seriously, tell me. How could you do something like that with Miss Haruka? She's a teacher. You're her student. How can you get yourself into something so forbidden and dangerous in school."

Renji let his shoulders slump, crafting the perfect mask of an ashamed schoolboy. "It wasn't intentional, I swear. It just happened."

"Nothing just happens, Renji," she said.

He looked at her shamefully and then away. "Okay. Well, it began with extra lessons after school. My literature grades were slipping last term and Miss Haruka offered to tutor me privately. One evening we were alone in the classroom, going over symbolism in Kawabata… and she brushed my hand. I thought it was an accident. Then it happened again. And again. She said she'd always found me… mature for my age. Things just… escalated. I know it was wrong. I know I took advantage of her feelings. I'm disgusting. I'm so sorry you had to see that."

Kaori's expression softened by degrees, the hard lines around her mouth easing, though her eyes remained sharp. "It is still unacceptable. A teacher has a duty of care. Even if you promise never to do it again, the breach of trust cannot be erased. I have to report this, Renji. You must understand that."

He nodded solemnly, letting his gaze drop to the floor. "I do."

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint ticking of a wall clock and the distant hum of traffic twelve floors below.

"So…" he asked her, "what are you going to do?"

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