Past two in the morning. The entrance door to Residence Platine Shirogane opened quietly. Shunya Shirogane returned home, exhaustion etched across his face. A lengthy conference at Shirogane Tower. And not just any meeting — a rebuttal session against proposals from the Toichiro faction, which opposed his internal alliance. The conference that began at one in the afternoon had stretched past midnight without him noticing. He'd intended to head straight to his study. The usual pattern. Come home, work immediately. But he noticed the faint glow of light in the living room. (Runa?) With that thought, Shunya turned toward the living room. On the sofa, Runa Kirihara was asleep. Her left hand rested on the sofa's armrest, her right hand on her own stomach — a completely defenseless sleeping posture. Her long, straight black hair flowed softly over the back of the sofa. A single strand swayed gently with each breath she took. On the table sat a cup of cold tea. (She was waiting for me to come home.) Shunya stared at the scene. Runa's face was released from its usual tension. Not the modest, cautious expression she showed in high society — the one that gauged others' reactions. Just a woman. An ordinary woman. Somehow, her unguarded self brought an inexplicable discomfort to his chest. (It's a contract. Just a contract.) He told himself that. This marriage was a strategic choice to stabilize the group and strengthen the young president's influence. Runa was merely part of that calculation. That was how it should be. But then it happened. Runa stirred slightly. Her eyelids began to open — her sleep was shallow. She wasn't fully awake, caught in that half-drowsy state. But her eyes found him. Their gazes locked at close range. In the soft indirect lighting of the living room, Runa's brown eyes held a glimmer of light. A drowsy, unfocused consciousness. But when those eyes found Shunya, they suddenly came into sharp focus. "Ah..." A small sound escaped her lips. The faint noise of someone not yet fully awake. She tried to sit up. But her movements were slow. Shunya quietly went to fetch a blanket. He picked up the thin blanket placed beside the sofa. He bent down to drape it over her. Runa's face drew impossibly close to his. The distance was less than ten centimeters. Her breath reached him. That breath was the breath of someone fully awake now. Her eyes too — they were completely fixed on him. "Did I wake you?" He murmured that. His voice was low, hoarse. Not from exhaustion, but for another reason entirely. "No, I was the one who..." Runa began to speak. In that moment, Shunya's hand touched her cheek. The movement seemed driven by something other than his own will. In the cold autumn night air, her cheek was warm. The instant he felt that warmth, Shunya sensed something crumbling inside him. "You're cold," He whispered it softly, his hand still against her cheek. His palm pressed gently, as if to warm her. In that moment, Runa's breathing stopped. Or rather — it became shallow. Below her left collarbone, a star-shaped mark. The place where Runa unconsciously placed her hand out of habit. Shunya didn't know what that mark meant. But he was certain — he remembered that mark existing on her body. "Shunya..." She spoke his name. Her voice was fragile. It came out with her breath. At that name, Shunya's reason wavered. (This is wrong.) He thought that. But in the next moment, Runa's eyes grew moist. That moisture glistened before his eyes. No — it wasn't just moisture. He could see something welling up inside her. Runa unconsciously placed her hand over his. A cold hand and a warm hand overlapped. That sensation appealed to something in him. No — not an appeal. A plea. Shunya drew closer to her. Until their lips were almost touching. At that distance, they stopped. (It's a contract.) Those words grazed his mind. This woman was his wife by contract. A relationship bound by money, not emotion. Nothing more, nothing less. But reality was different. Shunya withdrew his hand from her cheek. The motion was like fleeing from intense heat. "Good night," With those words, he stood. His back was completely turned away from her. His footsteps toward the study were faster than usual. Left alone in the living room, Runa went rigid on the sofa. Her hand pressed against the spot below her left collarbone. The star-shaped mark there. Her fingernails dug into that mark. Her heartbeat raced. She couldn't suppress it. Something pulsed violently in her chest. (A contract...) Runa repeated that word over and over. But the word seemed to have lost all meaning. (A contract, and yet... why...) She still hadn't found the answer to that question. The next morning. In the dining room, they faced each other. Across the table, Shunya read the newspaper. The same appearance as always. The same gestures as always. White shirt, black suit. The small mole at the corner of his mouth. Everything seemed exactly as it always was. "Good morning," Runa offered a formal greeting. Her voice was small. The usual modest tone, as if gauging the other's reaction. "Morning," Shunya kept his eyes on the newspaper. His reply was terse. Businesslike to the point of coldness. Runa prepared breakfast. Rolled egg, miso soup, white rice, grilled seaweed. She arranged them on white dishes. Her movements were more careful than usual. She placed them on the table. Shunya set down the newspaper. Then, in silence, he began to eat. A heavy silence flowed between them. Their eyes never met once. Runa's hands trembled slightly as she poured coffee. Was last night a dream? Or was it real? Unable to distinguish between the two, Runa moved mechanically. "I'll come home early today," Shunya said that suddenly. His voice was his usual expressionless tone. But the weight of those words was immeasurable. Runa looked up. Her eyes held both hope and anxiety. But Shunya was already heading toward the entrance. The sound of the door closing echoed through the living room. Left alone, Runa could only watch his departing figure. "Is this... all right?" She whispered it softly. The words reached no one. They were simply absorbed into the cold air of Shirogane. The view of Tokyo visible through the living room window glittered coldly, unchanged as always.