Kumi, once a student under my private tutoring, is now a fourth-year economics major preparing for job hunting. She was struggling to complete a report, unable to grasp the content, visibly distressed. Wanting to support her, I brought her to a love hotel—a quiet space where she could focus. The room was silent except for the scratching of her pen on paper, a calm atmosphere. But as I looked at her again, I was struck by how much she had grown. In that moment, instinct took over. My foot slid beneath the desk, creeping up under her miniskirt. Kumi stopped writing, her face flashing surprise. Yet, as if feeling the same desire, her body slowly began to respond. At this rate, we won't be able to stop.