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“A tycoon kept beautiful women at 3 million yen a month”—why do stories like this spread so fast online, even when their truth is uncertain? It’s not the exposure of reality that we seek, but the thrill of believing in a seductive fiction.
The allure of wealth, the pull of desire, and the power of fantasy—these elements have long intersected in tales passed down across cultures and generations. This isn’t just someone else’s secret; it may be the myth born from the unconscious desires we rarely acknowledge.
The act of “keeping” women repeats not merely as gossip but as a reflection of deeper cultural, economic, and institutional patterns.
In China, the system known as “ernai” (mistress-style contractual partner in China, often involving multi-year support and housing arrangements) formalizes affection through multi-year contracts, with payments reaching into the hundreds of thousands of yuan. Some powerful men maintain multiple homes for these private arrangements. Emotional and physical intimacy is made explicit in contractual form, embedding “keeping” as a normalized structure of exclusivity.
In Japan, Ginza’s upscale clubs and traditional ryotei (Japanese haute establishments offering private dining and ritualized hospitality) represent refined versions of “keeping.” Hostesses read preferences before they’re spoken, and rituals of gifting or escorted dinners are woven into an intricate script. These bonds go beyond sexuality—they are ritualized expressions of selective intimacy and of structured exclusivity, artfully maintained.
Japan’s elite dating clubs (exclusive Japanese matchmaking agencies connecting affluent men with young women, often blending social companionship with implied romantic or transactional undertones) also highlight this pattern, where introducing a woman can earn hundreds of thousands to over a million yen. Here, the wealthy do not just participate—they choose. “Keeping” transcends simple intimacy; it is woven into the economy of affection, status, and control.
In Japanese, the term implies more than affection—it suggests exclusivity with material provision. It is not a fleeting romance, but a carefully curated arrangement where recognition, order, and opulence become visible forms of desire.
Because the fantasy of wealth intertwining with sensuality functions as a performative visual myth that codifies the link between wealth and sexual power across cultures.
In South Korea, entertainment agencies and their investors have, in some cases, entered into intimate exchanges in return for career opportunities and daily stability. In an industry struggling to stay afloat, affection becomes currency—negotiated in the shadow of power.
Eva Illouz’s theory of emotional capitalism (a sociological concept, referring to the fusion of intimacy, affection, and market logic in late-modern societies) shows how love and longing are shaped by market logic. Even romance becomes part of capital’s blueprint.
And so, the myth of “keeping beautiful women” feels real not because it’s verified, but because it seductively echoes the dreamlike structures we unconsciously crave—an illusion that wealth ought to command desire.
The idea that “the rich keep beautiful women” isn’t just a joke at someone’s expense. It’s a narrative structure we’re drawn to repeat—quietly, willingly, even without realizing it.
Rather than dismissing it as just another trope, maybe the real question is: why does it pull at us?
What part of this longing—this imagined closeness—resonates with your own desires?
The act of asking may be what writes the next chapter.