When Runa stepped out of Akabane Station, autumn's twilight was painting the city in shades of amber and violet. Runa Kirihara turned toward the shopping street in front of the station. A familiar landscape. A path she'd walked countless times since childhood. The Suzuran-dori sign was still visible, even in the unfortunate dimness. A vegetable shop, a butcher, a prepared foods store. They lined the street in close succession. In front of one of them—Okazu Yokocho—Runa came to a stop. Her mother. A woman with salt-and-pepper short bob hair, wearing a dark blue apron, was preparing something inside the shop. Yoshie Kirihara. Runa's mother. Soft light glowed inside the store. Her mother's movements were quick, practiced. She plated fried chicken, packed boiled beans. There was no wasted motion in her hands. On her left ring finger was a thin scar. A remnant of a sports injury from her youth. Runa had seen that scar many times. "Oh, Runa." Her mother looked up. Her pale dark eyes caught Runa's gaze. In those eyes, maternal affection mixed with something else—another emotion entirely. "You must be tired. How was work today?" Her mother slipped off her apron and walked toward Runa. Her figure was ordinary, warm as always. But into Runa's heart, a heavy atmosphere was seeping. "I'm fine. But... I wanted to talk to you about something." Her voice was small. A modest tone, as if testing the other's reaction. Her hand unconsciously touched the star-shaped mark beneath her left collarbone. A sign of tension. Her mother stared at Runa's face intently. Something flickered in her eyes. In that instant, she understood—her daughter was carrying something. "I see. Let's talk at home." --- The two of them headed home. Twelve minutes on foot from Akabane Station. A thirty-five-year-old wooden two-story house. Runa's childhood home. When the door opened, a familiar scent struck her nose. The fragrance of old wood. The smell of miso. The scent of her mother's presence. The two sat facing each other at the living room table. Her mother quickly began preparing dinner. Grilled fish, miso soup, pickles, white rice. The same simple, warm meal as always. Dishes placed on the table. Her mother sat across from her. Her eyes looked directly at Runa. "Are you really happy?" That single sentence pierced through Runa's chest. "...What?" The word escaped her. Her voice was thin, fragile. "It's not your usual smile. You're carrying something heavy. That's the face you're making." Her mother removed the bones from the grilled fish. The motion was calm, applying no pressure to Runa. Yet the weight of the question only grew heavier. Runa didn't know how to answer. She couldn't say it was a contract marriage. There were confidentiality agreements. But she didn't want to lie either. Caught between these two impossibilities, Runa fell silent. "I'm fine. I'm happy." Those words were fabricated. Surface-level words, like a customer service smile. Her mother saw through them instantly. Her mother stared at Runa intently. Something flickered in the depths of her eyes. Anxiety. Concern. And a quiet regret—that something she'd wanted to instill in her daughter wasn't working as intended. "You know," Her mother suddenly began speaking. The way she started was abrupt, catching Runa off guard. "I used to be a track athlete. 100-meter dash. I made it to third place at the prefectural championships." At those words, Runa looked up. She'd never heard much detail about her mother's past. What kind of life had her mother lived while her father was ill? That history, Runa had never known. "I ran with everything I had. I jumped with everything I had. Back then, I thought anything was possible. That I could even make it to the Olympics." Her mother brought the grilled fish to her mouth. In that motion, an absorption in distant memory was visible. "But when I was nineteen, I ruptured the ligaments in my knee. During sports. I did rehabilitation. I really did, desperately. But I never came back. I never became who I was before." In those words lay a quiet despair. Runa was drawn into her mother's story. "After that, I didn't want to do anything. Didn't want to chase anything. Because even if you chase, in the end, nothing remains. Only the injury stayed." Her mother showed her left ring finger. The scar caught the light quietly. "So I wanted you to live steadily, without troubling others, normally. That's what I thought. So you wouldn't lose anything like I did. So you wouldn't become empty like I did." At those words, tears began to gather in Runa's eyes. "But you now. You have the same eyes I had back then. Eyes that are forcing it. Eyes that don't really know what you want, but are telling yourself, 'This is fine,' by sheer force." At that moment, Runa lost her words. In that instant, she felt her mother's words pierce deep into her heart. Runa understood what her mother's warning meant. Her mother hadn't been asking for "steadiness"—she'd been asking her not to lose her "true self." Those two things were incompatible. "I don't know what you're hiding. But if you're in trouble, come back anytime. This place will accept you, no matter what you become or what happens to you." At those words, Runa let fall the tears she'd been holding back. --- Late at night, on a train heading toward Shirogane. Sitting on a beige seat, Runa gazed out the window. The train ran on an elevated track, the night scenery flowing past. From the familiarity of Akabane to the coldness of Shirogane. As she watched that landscape shift, Runa turned her mother's words over in her mind again and again. "Eyes that are forcing it." Those words shook her heart. (What do I really want to do?) Thinking that, she looked at her own face reflected in the window. That face was downcast. Filled with anxiety. Yet at the same time, there was something else—a kind of dignified expression, as if something was being decided. (Because it's a contract. That's what I kept telling myself.) Just as her mother had said, Runa had been forcing herself to accept it. "This is a contract. I shouldn't have feelings. I need to be detached about it." But reality was different. The train stopped at a station. The next stop was Shirogane. Runa stood up. In that moment, a resolve was born in her chest. (I...) Her eyes turned straight ahead. (I'll find my answer. Without running away.) Those words were whispered softly. But in that voice, for the first time, true will dwelled. Not hesitation, but determination. Not anxiety, but resolve. --- The 32nd floor of Residence Platine Shirogane. It was past midnight. The front door opened. Runa had come home. The living room lights were off, but a thin glow leaked from the study. As Runa stepped into the living room, she sensed someone's presence. Shunya Shirogane was sitting on the sofa. A black suit with a shirt draped over it—a casual arrangement. His face was filled with the exhaustion of work. But the moment he saw Runa, his expression changed. "You're late. I was worried." At those words, Runa's heart wavered. "I went to my parents' house. I talked with my mother about... various things..." The rest of the words wouldn't come. Shunya stared intently at her face. Something flickered in his eyes. Runa remembered her mother's words. "Eyes that are forcing it," her mother had said. Whether that "forcing" came from her relationship with this man, or from within herself—she couldn't tell the difference. Standing there uncertain, Runa remained motionless. "You must be tired. Get some rest." At that single phrase, Runa nodded. But the motion was heavy. As she turned toward the bedroom, Runa glanced back for a moment. But Shunya's face was already turned toward the study. Left alone in the living room, Shunya took a deep breath after Runa had gone. His gaze was directed toward the window. Tokyo's night scenery. Sky Tree and Tower. They glowed expressionlessly. "Ichiro's movements..." Shunya whispered softly. That whisper reached no one's ears. It was simply absorbed into the cold night air of Shirogane. Tomorrow morning, the factional struggle within the Shirogane Group would intensify further. The Ichiro faction was beginning to show new moves. But in that moment, Runa's image was reflected in Shunya's mind. What had she thought about after meeting her mother? Looking at that expression, it felt as though something was about to change. A contract. Two people bound by that word alone. But wasn't that relationship now about to transcend something? Shunya pressed his forehead against the wall. "I don't have an answer either." That whisper was a voiceless cry. The deep night of Shirogane was wrapped in silence. Within it, two hearts trembled simultaneously.