Yukinoshita Haruno's words, which were almost a confession, were like a final bolt of lightning that completely shattered all the illusions and persistence in Hayama Hayato's heart. His pupils contracted violently; they no longer reflected his gentle and considerate childhood friend, but a strange, cold girl who was adept at toying with people's hearts. His face was as white as paper, and his lips trembled, yet he couldn't say a single word. It was as if all the strength had been drained from his body, leaving only a massive void and despair.
Kanjuro took in Hayama Hayato's soul-crushing state. He stood up at the right moment, his face shifting into a 'good man' mask filled with sympathy and concern. He walked to Hayama Hayato's side, patted his shoulder gently, and consoled him in a warm tone:
"Hayato, it's okay, don't be too sad. Now that you've seen clearly what kind of person Haruno is—though the process is painful—it's better than being kept in the dark forever." His voice was low, carrying the persuasive tone of an elder. "You need to calm down now. How about... Uncle takes you home?"
Hayama Hayato didn't seem to hear Kanjuro's words. He just stared fixedly at Haruno, a faint, unextinguished flame still flickering in his eyes. He struggled, using his last bit of strength to murmur: "No... I don't believe it... Haruno, how could you be this kind of person... I don't believe it..."
Seeing him so stubbornly refusing to wake up, Yukinoshita Haruno wasn't moved at all. Instead, it seemed to trigger some sort of mischievous streak in her. She suddenly stood up and, under the shocked gazes of Hayama Hayato and everyone present, very naturally reached out and intimately took Kanjuro's arm, even leaning her body slightly against him.
Kanjuro clearly hadn't expected Haruno to pull such a move. The warm, soft sensation from his arm caused his body to stiffen almost imperceptibly. He looked down at Haruno snuggling against him, clearly feeling the warmth coming from her—a mix of light perfume and a young girl's scent—as well as the unmasked light of provocation and a certain determination in her eyes.
This scene caused the shop manager, Inaho Shin, to raise an eyebrow in surprise nearby. Even Kagawa Kuroe, who had been quietly observing, slightly widened her azure eyes. She clearly hadn't expected this elegant and capable-looking Miss Yukinoshita to behave in such a... bold and contrasting manner.
Haruno seemed very satisfied with the effect she had caused. She looked up and gave a sweet yet incredibly cruel smile to Hayama Hayato, whose face was pale and whose gaze was nearly shattered.
"But, it's true that I like Uncle Kanjuro, Hayato." Her voice was soft, yet it felt like a poisoned dagger. "In terms of looks, you aren't even a ten-thousandth of Uncle Kanjuro. In terms of family background and heritage... I'm afraid your Hayama family can't even match a ten-thousandth of the power behind him, either." Her words were blunt and cruel, comparing them without mercy and crushing Hayama Hayato's last shred of self-esteem.
She tilted her head slightly, her eyes filled with a sort of condescending pity and mockery as she delivered the final blow:
"Tell me, with a comparison like that, on what basis... should I choose to like you?"
These words were the final straw that broke the camel's back, completely shattering Hayama Hayato.
The light in his eyes vanished completely. His body swayed as if he had lost even the strength to stand. He glanced at Haruno, who was intimately clinging to Kanjuro's arm, then at the expressionless (at least on the surface) Kanjuro. In the end, he said nothing, only turning away distraught and stumbling. Like a soulless puppet, he staggered out of the cafe and disappeared into the night outside.
Silence fell over the cafe for a moment.
Haruno still held onto Kanjuro's arm, as if she wasn't the one who had just pushed someone into the abyss with her words. She looked up at Kanjuro with a complex gaze, carrying a hint of vengeful pleasure, a touch of reckless determination, and perhaps... a sliver of genuine thumping in her heart that even she couldn't distinguish.
Kanjuro looked down at her, the warmth on his arm yet to dissipate. His eyes remained deep, and no one could glimpse the true thoughts beneath. This drama he had initiated seemed to be hurtling in a direction that even he hadn't fully anticipated.
With a heart full of despair and anger, Hayama Hayato took one last deep look at Haruno snuggled intimately against Kanjuro. That look was indescribably complex—filled with pain, resentment, and a chilling sense of total betrayal. Ultimately, he said nothing, turned abruptly, and practically fled from the cafe. The wind chimes on the door emitted a series of hurried, chaotic tinkles from his rough movement before gradually falling silent.
Inside the cafe, all tension and noise seemed to have been suddenly drained away, leaving only a subtle and dangerous tranquility.
After Hayama Hayato left, the sensation of Haruno on Kanjuro's arm became increasingly clear. Her soft body was pressed tightly against him; through the thin fabric, he could even vaguely feel the curves of her chest and the warmth of her body. The unique scent of the young girl—a blend of sweetness and a hint of chill—drifted into his nose, carrying a soul-bewitching power.
His gaze slowly lowered, falling on Haruno's face inches away. This face, similar to Yukino's but more bright and flamboyant, was now tinged with a faint blush from her intense words and actions. Her eyes were startlingly bright, flickering with unabashed cunning, provocation, and an underlying obsession that was exactly the same as her mother, Yukinoshita Yukino.
(My daughter... she really is becoming more and more like me.)
Kanjuro whispered silently in his heart with a coldness that bordered on admiration. Among his many bloodlines, Yukinoshita Haruno was undoubtedly the one who had most thoroughly inherited his scheming nature—his talent for calculation, his love for controlling hearts, and even his enjoyment of chaos and danger. She wasn't weak and conflicted like Yui Yuigahama, nor was she blindly obsessed like Miura Yumiko. She knew exactly what she wanted and dared to use any means to get it, even if the target was her nominal "Uncle."
"Uncle Kanjuro," Haruno spoke softly, looking up and breaking the silence. Her voice carried a deliberate coquettishness mixed with an imperceptible probe. "How was it? Are you... satisfied with what I did?" She was referring to her merciless destruction of Hayama Hayato and her bold move of clinging to him now.
Hearing this, the corners of Kanjuro's lips curled into a meaningful smile similar to hers. He didn't answer directly, but slightly tilted his head, closing the distance between them once more in silence.
Their noses almost touched, and their breathing was audible. The dim yellow lights of the cafe cast an ambiguous glow around them, enveloping their figures in a private atmosphere. Inaho Shin had tactfully turned away to wipe the already spotless bar counter, and Kagawa Kuroe also lowered her head, pretending to be focused on organizing the tray in her hands, though her peripheral vision couldn't help but steal glances at this pair with their unique aura and bizarre "uncle-niece" relationship.
Under Kanjuro's suddenly approaching gaze, Haruno's body gave an uncontrollable, slight tremble. His deep eyes were like two bottomless ancient wells, seemingly able to suck in all light and even one's soul. Under that gaze that seemed to see through everything, she felt all her disguises and little schemes laid bare. A shudder, a mix of danger, taboo, and extreme attraction, surged up her spine, making her heart skip a beat.
Kanjuro watched the flash of panic and the intensifying infatuation in her eyes. His voice was pressed extremely low, like the most private whisper between lovers, carrying a soul-bewitching magnetism as he asked softly:
"Do you like Uncle?"
Kanjuro's low, bewitching question—"Do you like Uncle?"—was like a curse with an irresistible penetrating power, striking the most hidden corner of Yukinoshita Haruno's heart. Under the gaze of those bottomless eyes and at such a close distance where they could feel each other's breath, Haruno felt all her carefully constructed defenses crumbling inch by inch. The dangerous attraction surged like a tide, nearly drowning her.
However, the pride and reason of the Yukinoshita family's eldest daughter took the upper hand at the last moment. She took a sharp breath and, as if burned, suddenly pushed Kanjuro away with force, creating a dangerous distance between them.
Her movements were somewhat hurried, the blush on her cheeks hadn't faded, and her breathing was slightly ragged. But she quickly adjusted her expression, putting back on her signature smile of cunning and composure. She took the opportunity to sit in the seat opposite Kanjuro, as if that moment of loss of composure had never happened.
"Uncle Kanjuro," she picked up her cup of slightly cooled coffee and gave it a gentle swirl, her tone carrying a hint of a flirtatious pout, yet also stating a fact. "To be able to sit down and have a cup of coffee with you quietly like this is a very rare and happy thing for me." She looked up, her eyes shimmering as she gazed at Kanjuro with a bit of a complaint, yet also like she was acting spoiled. "So, next time... don't bring irrelevant people to disturb us, okay?"
She cleverly defined Hayama Hayato as an "irrelevant person," attempting to gloss over tonight's unpleasant interlude and pull the focus back to this subtle and unique "world for two" between her and Kanjuro.
Seeing her quickly regain her composure and even try to take control of the rhythm in reverse, Kanjuro couldn't help but laugh out loud. There was a hint of realization and playfulness in that laugh; he seemed to admire her refusal to lose.
"Alright, as you wish," he replied easily, as if it were just a trivial request.
Just then, Kuroe, the maid responsible for serving their table, walked over with a coffee pot for refills. She kept her head down and her steps light, but as she approached Kanjuro to pour his coffee, whether out of nervousness or distraction, her wrist actually gave a slight tremble!
The dark brown coffee liquid poured from the spout, but it didn't land precisely in the cup. Instead, most of it splashed onto the clean tabletop, with a few drops even splattering onto the back of Kanjuro's hand.
"Ah! I-I'm so sorry!" Kuroe cried out, hurriedly setting down the coffee pot and frantically trying to wipe it up. She looked up, her face full of panic and apology, but the moment her deep blue eyes met Kanjuro's gaze, an extremely complex look flashed through them—it wasn't just the panic of a simple mistake, but more like... shock, inquiry, and a certain indescribable realization.
(Did she recognize me?)
A small alarm went off in Kanjuro's mind. This girl named Kagawa Kuroe had given him a strange sense of familiarity from the moment they met. Now, this look... could she really be related to eighteen years ago, or even know his real identity as Gilles?
While his thoughts raced, Kanjuro's reaction was startlingly fast. He acted as if he hadn't noticed that potentially deep look and instead reached out, gently grabbing Kuroe's wrist which was trembling slightly from panic.
"It's okay, don't be nervous." His voice was incredibly gentle, carrying a power that soothed the heart. His other hand quickly grabbed a napkin from the table and, without a word, meticulously wiped the back of her hand where a few coffee stains had splattered, his movements light as if he were handling a fragile treasure.
"Look, your hand is a bit red from the heat. Be careful next time, okay?" He looked up, his gaze falling with concern on Kuroe's face. His handsome features and focused eyes carried a lethal attraction.
Kuroe was caught off guard by this sudden intimate gesture. The warm touch on her wrist and the unique scent on him made her heart rate suddenly accelerate, and an uncontrollable blush rose to her cheeks. She instinctively tried to pull her hand back, her voice as faint as a mosquito: "I-It's fine... thank you, guest..."
She broke free from Kanjuro's hand almost awkwardly. Without even stopping to clean up the mess, she gave a hurried bow and turned to walk away quickly, her silver-white hair tracing a rushed arc in the air.
Kanjuro watched her back as she practically fled, his eyes deep as his suspicion about her identity grew a bit stronger.
Having witnessed the whole scene, Yukinoshita Haruno gently placed her coffee cup back on the saucer, letting out a meaningful sigh. She rested her chin on one hand and tilted her head toward Kanjuro, her tone carrying a hint of banter mixed with a trace of imperceptible jealousy:
"Uncle Kanjuro, really... we're on a 'date' right now. Is it a bit too much to show such concern for another girl right in front of me?"
Her gaze was sharp, as if she could see through Kanjuro's gentle facade to the unusual attention he was paying to Kuroe. The atmosphere in the cafe became subtle once again due to this small accident and Haruno's pointed words.
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