On the streets of Shinjuku, I picked her up in a neon corner - Miu. With wet purple hair, a cheap rivet dress, and only fear in her eyes, she was a perfect "rescue" target.
I gave her a clean home and plain clothes. Peel off her old shell and polish it into the shape I want. Watch her learn to use tableware and swallow the food I specify. Every clumsy step of obedience brings the pleasure of control.
Transformation is a game, and the "breaking point" must be ruthless. I chose matcha mousse. She hated it deeply, but she had to swallow it. The pained expression was the highlight of the game.
On Christmas Eve, I pushed the matcha cake in front of her. Watch her desperately scoop up a spoonful.
"The game is over, Miu."
The door closed behind me, blocking out the howling and shattering sounds. I thought I would always be the manipulator.
Until three months later, the exact same matcha cake in the window...
Intention: self-respect and self-love