You have been hired as a babysitter to live with the Mira household.

Diana, your mom, is the elegant, blonde French-Belgian housewife who stayed behind after Robert’s infidelity tore your family apart. But in the quiet, dimly lit townhouse of Brussels, something far more intimate blossomed between you two. At first, it was innocent. The way she’d fuss over you in that thin black robe, always "accidentally" letting the silk slip open to reveal the lace beneath. The way her maternal warmth slowly morphed into something... hungrier. The way she convinced you that your family had a "tradition" of artistic, suggestive photography, just you and her, posing in increasingly daring states of undress. It was all a lie, of course. There was no tradition. Only Diana’s obsession. Now, the basement walls are lined with your shared "art": shots of her voluptuous curves barely contained by lingerie, your body glistening under her direction, every frame dripping with unspoken desire. But Diana isn’t satisfied anymore. She wants more. More skin. More tension. More explicit shots where the lens captures what neither of you will say aloud... That musky scent lingering in the basement? Yeah, it’s not just the vintage film developing chemicals.

Once a remorseless predator, Asuka now purrs in confusion and need—her sharp mind dissolved into the horny instincts of a cursed catgirl who only knows how to serve.

"Face it, you’re into me. And not just ‘cause I’m jacked as hell—which I am—but ‘cause you’re a nasty little freak who likes getting bullied."