The car door closed with a solid thunk. Hōjō Shione removed her mask and settled into the leather seat, her gaze fixed on the rearview mirror until Shiratori Seiya's figure finally disappeared from view.
Then her expression shifted.
The gentle, wounded girlfriend persona dissolved, replaced by something cooler. More calculating. A strange smile played at the corners of her lips.
She reached beneath the seat, pulled out a small cooler, and extracted an ice pack. Wrapped it in a towel. Pressed it gently against her swollen eyes.
Lying back in the reclined seat, she replayed the scene in her mind—the look on his face when she'd shouted at him. The way he'd stood there, frozen, unable to speak.
Good.
She'd lied to him, of course.
Not about being recognized at the gate—that part was true enough. But the story about Andō Norika discovering their breakup through innocent coincidence? Entirely manufactured.
If she'd wanted to hide it, she could have. A few excuses about being busy, about work schedules—Norika wouldn't have pressed. But Shione hadn't wanted to hide it.
She'd called Norika deliberately. Let her voice crack at just the right moments. Let the sadness seep through. And when Norika asked the obvious questions, Shione had "accidentally" let slip just enough information to paint the picture she wanted.
Then, through Norika, she'd learned everything about Seiya's current life. His university. His routine. His new contact information.
All without ever asking him directly.
Maybe I was too gentle with him when we were together.
That thought surfaced often now. If she'd been less accommodating, less willing to go along with whatever he wanted, maybe he wouldn't have been so casual about breaking her heart. Maybe he wouldn't have written that ridiculous letter—let's cool off for a while, don't make Aunt sad—as if she were a child to be managed rather than a partner to be respected.
At first, she'd followed his instructions. Stayed quiet. Didn't reach out. Didn't upset Norika.
But time didn't heal anything. The wound just deepened.
Every night, she closed her eyes and dreamed of him. Warm dreams, beautiful dreams—him holding her, comforting her, telling her everything would be okay.
Every morning, she opened her eyes to that letter on her bedside table. Proof that it hadn't been okay. That he'd left.
Longing was a sweet pain. Like seawater eroding cliffs—wave after wave, wearing her down. And with each wave, saltwater seeped into the wound, making it sting all over again.
She'd become addicted to him. To the time they'd spent together. So much so that every day since felt like drowning.
And now? Now he would drown too. Just a little.
That's why she hadn't screamed at him today. Hadn't unleashed all her resentment and walked away. Verbal punishment was too easy. Too quick. He'd feel righteous, take his lumps, and move on.
But this—this slow burn, this guilt, this knowing he'd hurt her and couldn't fix it—this would last.
Because Shiratori Seiya wasn't truly heartless. She knew that. If he were, he'd have broken up with her face-to-face instead of leaving a coward's letter. If he were, those years of tenderness, the way he'd held her when she cried after bad performances, the way he'd believed in her when no one else did—none of that would have been real.
It was real. She knew it.
So he'd toss and turn now. Regret. Torment himself internally.
It wouldn't compare to what she'd felt those first few months. But it was enough.
More than enough, really. Because if he suffered too much, she'd only end up hurting for him.
Her mind drifted back to their time together—the good times, the easy times—and her eyes softened with something like nostalgia.
As for this "new girlfriend" he'd mentioned?
Annoying. Infuriating. But ultimately irrelevant.
Shiratori Seiya would be hers again. Andō Norika was on her side. His uncle too. All his old friends, everyone who mattered—they all knew her, loved her. What resistance could he possibly mount?
Still. She'd need to investigate this girl. Just to be sure. Just to make sure there was nothing... diseased about her. Even if Shione didn't mind for herself, the thought of Seiya touching someone tainted made her stomach turn.
The months of pain, finally released today, left her feeling lighter than she had in ages. Comfortable down to her bones.
Shiratori Seiya was both her medicine and her poison.
But what she really wanted—what she needed—was to understand why.
Why had he left without warning? Without explanation? One day they were fine, the next he was gone. She'd replayed their last weeks together a thousand times, searching for clues, finding nothing.
He'd never tell her directly. She knew that.
"I have a girlfriend."
His words echoed in her mind. And suddenly, another face surfaced—a memory from years ago.
Hasegawa Saori. The kendo prodigy. Eight consecutive victories in the Inter-High Championships. Quiet, intense, completely devoted to her craft.
Shione sat up abruptly, pulling the towel from her eyes.
Wait.
The pieces clicked into place with an almost audible snap.
>>>
That evening, across the city, Shiratori Seiya's phone buzzed on the table.
Takahashi Mio: "Shiratori-kun, are you free this Saturday afternoon? Everyone wants to meet you~"
He glanced at the screen. Ignored it.
His mind was elsewhere, split between two problems.
First: Takahashi Mio's cultivation plan. That was actually under control. He'd already spent 1.3 million yen on agency contacts, instructors, customized courses, audition prep. His card balance sat at exactly one million—enough to keep things moving. Between system check-ins, skill rewards, and future script licensing, the money would compound nicely.
Once Mio blew up—and she would, with his help—she'd be buying apartments in central Tokyo within two or three years. Financial freedom before graduation.
Step one: convince her to commit. That wasn't hard. More hints, more rewards, more careful manipulation. She'd fall in line.
The second problem was thornier.
Going home. Facing Andō Norika. Explaining the breakup.
How?
"I fell for someone else"? She'd never believe it.
"We just weren't compatible"? She'd laugh in his face.
Nothing he said would satisfy her. She'd made up her mind about Shione years ago. In Norika's eyes, that girl was already her daughter-in-law.
After long consideration, Shiratori Seiya decided to stop thinking.
When the time came, he'd be like a dead fish—go with the flow, take the scolding, let her yell. It wouldn't kill him. And Norika, for all her fire, wouldn't actually murder him.
Probably.
He leaned back on the sofa, closed his eyes.
And immediately, Shione's face appeared in his memory. Her voice. Her words. The raw, bleeding hurt in her eyes.
"Those words! They're too much!"
Was it too much?
Maybe. But love alone wasn't enough. He needed financial freedom first—for himself, for whoever came after. Everything else could wait.
Besides, he'd already told her about Takahashi Mio. There was no going back now. Even if regret flickered at the edges of his mind, he wouldn't return to her.
Ding-dong.
His phone glowed.
Hōjō Shione: "Seiya, I imagine you're dreading going home to Aunt's place? Don't worry—I already explained everything for you. You're welcome."
He stared at the screen, silent.
Before he could respond, another call lit up the display.
Incoming: Hōjō Suzune
Ten thirty at night. A high school senior should be sleeping.
He declined the call.
She called back immediately.
He answered.
"Brother-in-law! I thought you were ignoring me~" Her voice was pure complaint wrapped in honey. "Did my sister come see you today?"
"How did you know?"
"Do I need to be told?" Suzune snorted. "She came home with her eyes all red from crying, but smiling like she'd won the lottery. What else could it be?"
She paused.
"She went back to Kyoto today. Brought a huge pile of stuff—I thought it was for me, but she took most of it out again. Obviously went to see Aunt."
Shiratori Seiya's jaw tightened. She went all the way back to Kyoto just to smooth things over with Norika?
"Oh, and Brother-in-law?"
"What?"
Suzune's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "She went out again tonight. After dinner. All dressed up, makeup perfect. Definitely a date."
"A date?"
The word landed wrong. His first instinct was irritation. Then logic kicked in—impossible. Not after today.
"Your sister isn't like that."
"Brother-in-law~ Believe me~" The whine returned, syrupy sweet. "I'm serious! I heard her say the person's name when she left."
"What name?"
"Something like... Shiori?"
Shiratori Seiya's eyes narrowed.
"Saori?"
"Something like that~" Suzune pouted audibly. "Brother-in-law, I worked so hard spying on my sister for you. Don't I deserve a reward?"
Silence.
"I want to come to Tokyo and play~"
Her voice dropped lower, softer.
"I want to see you..."