The ceiling spun slowly, as if he were trapped on a carousel that never stopped. Even though it was early—too early—Jun couldn't fall back asleep. His head throbbed. His whole body ached. But it wasn't physical pain. It was worse, it was that invisible kind of pain. The kind that makes no sound… but destroys everything inside.
He ran a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh, as if trying to push it all away.
"How did I lose control like that…" he muttered, his voice rough.
He closed his eyes for a moment, irritated with himself.
"Feelings like this have no place in my life… that's enough."
He stood up abruptly, as if he needed to get rid of that feeling as fast as possible. He went straight to the bathroom. Cold water hit his skin, sending a sharp shiver through him, but he didn't move.
He stayed there, motionless, letting the cold wash away anything that still insisted on lingering. When he stepped out, his grandmother was still asleep, and outside, the sun hadn't risen yet. Not knowing what to do with his body… or his mind, Jun went to the kitchen and decided to make coffee, the smell quickly filled the room.
"It's cold…" he whispered, rubbing his hands together. "Feels like it's going to rain."
"Good morning, dear… you're up early. Is everything alright?"
Her soft voice made him turn. His grandmother stood there, still sleepy, but with the same warmth as always.
"Good morning, Grandma… I couldn't sleep. I made coffee… it's fresh."
She smiled and walked closer.
"That's wonderful…" she said, pouring herself a cup. "Are you going out today?"
Jun shrugged, leaning lightly against the counter.
"I don't know yet… I need to think."
He pulled out a chair and sat down.
"Come on… let's finish our coffee."
The silence that followed was calm. Almost comforting. For a few minutes, the world felt bearable. Outside, the cold morning slowly took shape, while Jun kept his gaze lowered, lost in thoughts he didn't want to face.
He wanted to believe he could pull himself together, that it had just been a mistake. Because losing control was the one thing he never allowed himself to do. He hated showing vulnerability. He always had.
Ever since his mother left… everything changed. She left him with his father, and with her, she took away the only gentle part of his life.
What came after was devastating. Constant criticism, daily pressure. Words that, over time, stopped hurting on the surface and started tearing him apart from the inside, leaving wounds that never healed.
His father knew exactly where to hit and took advantage of a boy who didn't understand abandonment… and turned it into guilt.
He made Jun believe his mother had left because of him and for a long time… he believed it. That was when, still just a child, Jun made a silent promise.
He would never be weak again, he would never let anyone have that kind of power over him, he would never love anyone like he loved his mother, and perhaps that was exactly why what he felt for Sayuri was so unacceptable.
Hours later, the rain finally began to fall. Heavy drops echoed against the leaves. The smell of wet asphalt filled the house, blending with the sweet aroma of Mrs. Midori's cookies.
"Jun? Jun? Could you come downstairs for a moment?" his grandmother called from the stairs.
"Yes, Grandma… I'm coming."
Jun, who had been in his room organizing some papers, stood up and went down.
"What do you need?"
She turned, holding a small carefully wrapped box.
"Could you take these cookies to our neighbor?"
Jun hesitated, looking away.
"Grandma… I'm kind of busy right now…"
Mrs. Midori smiled gently.
"Oh, dear… don't worry. I'll go myself. You can go back to what you were doing."
Jun glanced at the window. The rain was heavy now. The cold wind shook the trees outside.
He sighed softly, there was no way he was letting her go out in that weather.
"Grandma… I'll take them."
She tried to stop him.
"It's alright, it'll be quick. Just keep an eye on the oven for me."
But Jun had already taken the box.
"I'll be right back."
Without giving her time to argue, he stepped outside. Mrs. Midori watched him for a moment, shaking her head with a small smile.
"Oh… that boy…"
Knock. Knock. Knock.
No answer.
Jun knocked again, a little harder.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Silence.
The house seemed empty. A wave of relief washed over him, without thinking too much, he left the cookies on the porch chair, next to a few other packages.
As he turned to leave, a delivery man approached, holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Good afternoon… does Miss Sayuri live here?"
Jun stopped.
"Good afternoon… yes, I can help. Are those for her?" he asked, curiosity slipping through.
"Yes. Do you live here?"
For a second, Jun hesitated.
Then he lied.
"Yeah. You can leave them with me."
He signed quickly and took the bouquet. Once the delivery man left, he looked at the card.
"Flowers for the most beautiful and intelligent girl in the city."
His expression darkened instantly.
"Kenji…?"
He swallowed hard.
"So they're moving forward."
For a moment, his fingers tightened around the card, almost crushing it. But he stopped and took a breath. He knew it wasn't right.
Carefully, he placed the card back and set the bouquet near the door, then he turned… and left.
Back home, he tried to act normal, but his mind refused to cooperate. Part of him wanted to run back, rip those flowers apart, and stop them from ever reaching her, the other part—cold and rational—kept repeating:
"Let it go. You have no right."
Jun ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Leaning against his bedroom window, he saw her.
Sayuri arriving home with her mother, when she noticed the bouquet, she stopped.
She read the card…and smiled, a soft smile, genuine and beautiful.
That hurt more than anything else, kind of torture and as if that wasn't enough, a few minutes later, Kenji showed up, natural and comfortable.
He walked into her house as if he already belonged there. Jun clenched his jaw and closed the curtains.
"I loved the flowers. Thank you so much, Kenji…"
"I'm glad you liked them," he replied, smiling. "Yume told me you ranked first in your class. I couldn't let that go unnoticed."
"You're so thoughtful…"
Then Sayuri's mother's voice came from inside.
"Would you like to stay for dinner?"
Kenji hesitated politely.
"Actually… I was hoping to take Sayuri out for a special dinner tonight… if that's alright."
"Of course," her mother replied, pleased. "I'd love for her to go out with someone like you."
"Mom…"
"What are you still doing here? Go get ready!"
Kenji laughed.
"Thank you, ma'am. I promise I'll bring her back early and safe."
Across the city, in a softly lit Italian restaurant, elegant and warm, Sayuri smiled while Kenji watched her.
They talked. Laughed.
Until, at some point, he looked at her more carefully and realized something had changed. This wasn't a game anymore.
Her smile, her laugh, the way she spoke. Even the light in her eyes, everything about her fascinated him in a way he had never felt before.
His whole body reacted.
He leaned closer without noticing, his hands wanted to touch her, his eyes couldn't look away and the urge to kiss her became harder and harder to ignore.
He knew he had been playing with fire and in the end… he had been consumed by it.
There was no going back now.
The player had lost the game… and fallen for his own target.