On the final night of the etiquette training, Sara stood facing the mirror in the guest room of Ryuichiro's penthouse. The reflection didn't look like herself. The navy dress Kiriya-sensei had chosen had a dramatically open back. Her chestnut hair, which normally fell to her shoulders, was carefully pinned up for the evening. Modest pearl earrings adorned her ears. Seven-centimeter heels. (I wonder if I can actually walk in these.) She was anxious. But she couldn't let that anxiety show on her face. Kiriya-sensei had drilled that into her countless times. "Keep your emotions locked inside. A smile is a weapon." Three knocks. "When you're ready, we should depart." Yano's voice. As always—emotionless, businesslike in tone. "[serious]Yes, I'll be right there" She opened the door to find Yano standing in the hallway. Behind his silver-rimmed glasses, his eyes swept over her from head to toe for just a moment. He said nothing. No praise, no criticism. Just the gaze of a machine that had determined: "No issues." (Still so unpleasant.) She thought it only in her heart. She didn't say it aloud. Two weeks had been enough to teach her that much restraint. The elevator descended from the 46th floor to the underground VIP entrance. Ryuichiro was waiting there. Black tuxedo. His usual perfectly groomed black hair. The moment his sharp eyes caught sight of Sara, the slight crease between his brows softened. "[gentle]It suits you beautifully" It was a compliment, yet something about it sounded calculated. Still, Sara's cheeks warmed slightly. "[serious]Thank you very much" The car was quiet. Yano in the passenger seat continued operating his tablet. In the back seat, Sara and Ryuichiro sat side by side. The distance between their knees was about the width of a fist. (So close.) Outside the window, Minato Ward's nightscape flowed past. The glass walls of Ayashima Tower in Akasaka receded into the distance. They passed through the Roppongi intersection and headed toward Chiyoda Ward. "Tonight's venue is the 'Phoenix Hall' at Hotel Ayashima Tokyo," Yano said, still facing forward. "It's a banquet hall with a capacity of 300. The guests are primarily from the financial world, but there will be several members of the press as well. Don't say anything unnecessary. Your hometown is Shizuoka, you work for a food trading company—beyond that, there's no need to elaborate." "[serious]Understood" "Can you commit to that?" Yano glanced back slightly. Behind his glasses, his gray eyes held a testing light. (There he goes again with that tone.) Sara consciously stopped her left hand's fingers from tangling together. "[serious]I can commit to it" Yano said nothing and turned back to face forward. His posture made clear that was sufficient. —— Hotel Ayashima Tokyo. Located in a corner of Marunouchi, the flagship hotel of the Ayashima Group. As they approached the entrance, Sara found herself taking a deep breath. Beyond the glass doors of the main entrance, she could see people in tuxedos and dresses. Every single one of them carried an atmosphere as if their entire way of living was somehow different. The car stopped. The door opened. Night wind touched her cheek. Despite it being July, her sweat turned cold. "[gentle]Shall we go" Ryuichiro exited first and extended his hand. (Ah, this is... just etiquette.) She understood. This was an act. And yet, the moment she took his hand, the warmth of his palm transmitted clearly to hers. No gloves—his body heat came through directly. The center of her chest grew warm, slowly. At the entrance to the Phoenix Hall, attendants greeted them both. White gloves, impeccable posture. As the doors opened on both sides, chandelier light spilled out. (This is... incredible.) The banquet hall, which could accommodate 300 people, was nearly full. White tablecloths covered the tables, thin candles flickering. Gold decorations adorned the walls. The chandelier above illuminated the tuxedos and dresses evenly. Toasts were exchanged here and there, low laughter mingling together. Every single person turned to look toward the door. (They're all looking at me.) Her body began to stiffen—but in that instant. A hand touched her back, gently. The palm settled just above where her dress opened at the back. It didn't push her forward. It simply... was there. Just that, and yet her feet moved. "[whispers]You're safe. I'm right here" His low voice spoke almost directly into her ear. (Wow, so close—his voice is so close.) Her mind went slightly white. But her feet didn't stop. She faced forward and created a smile. The smile Kiriya-sensei had hammered into her: "Raise the corners of your mouth slightly. Keep your eyes soft." While Ryuichiro made his rounds greeting several executives, Sara stood beside him. When her name was called, she bowed slightly. When offered a handshake, she accepted it lightly. She said nothing unnecessary. (I can do this. I can do this. I practiced.) Midway through the hall, she felt a gaze. Yano stood by the wall, holding a glass, watching her. His expression was blank. But behind his glasses, his eyes quietly observed. —— About forty minutes into the party. "Pardon me, might I have a moment?" A low, leisurely voice. She turned to find a well-built man in his sixties. His face seemed kind, but his eyes held a sharpness. Gray suit, gold cufflinks. "You must be Ayashima-sama's fiancée. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Kajihara." Kajihara. She'd heard that name somewhere. It might have been in Yano's materials. She hadn't been able to memorize all the financial figures' relationships. "[serious]How do you do. It's a pleasure to meet you" "Where are you from?" "[serious]Shizuoka" "Shizuoka. A lovely place. Which part?" (Ah, here it comes.) "[serious]The Iwata area" She answered honestly. There was no point in lying. "And your family?" Kajihara's voice remained gentle. But she could feel the questions coming faster, one after another. Whether to mention the tea farm—Ryuichiro hadn't said anything about it. (What do I do? Tell the truth? But what if that causes problems?) Her left hand's fingers began to grip the fabric of her dress. "Kajihara-san." A calm but unyielding voice cut in. Ryuichiro had moved naturally to Sara's side. "[gentle]Regarding family matters, I'd like to arrange a proper opportunity to introduce you myself. Tonight is a rare chance for us to relax and enjoy ourselves—shall we make it a pleasant evening?" He said it with a smile. But there was something in it that brooked no argument. Kajihara's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ah, my apologies. I look forward to it," he laughed, then bowed lightly and moved away in another direction. Sara exhaled quietly. "[whispers]Thank you" "[gentle]You'll learn to handle these naturally with practice. This is your first time, after all" "[serious]Did I... say too much?" "No." Ryuichiro shook his head. "[gentle]You answered honestly. That wasn't wrong. It's just that he's skilled at extracting information, so I judged it better to intervene" (Skilled at extracting information, huh.) People in high society measured others while pretending to make small talk. That's what Kiriya-sensei had said. "Here, words are all cards. Think before you play them." (What a difficult world this is.) Even as she thought that, she felt her trust in Ryuichiro increase slightly. He'd covered for her in that moment. That calm intervention—even if it was calculated, it had genuinely helped. Looking toward the wall, Yano was still there. He brought his glass to his lips, but his eyes never left her. That gaze held a strange mixture of surveillance, protection, and judgment. —— As the party neared its end, Ryuichiro leaned close and spoke quietly. "[gentle]Would you like to step out onto the terrace? It's quieter outside" At the edge of the Phoenix Hall, beyond large glass doors, lay a narrow terrace. The Marunouchi nightscape spread before them. Building lights arranged in neat rows. In the distance, the red blinking of Tokyo Skytree. The night breeze was slightly cool. "[gentle]You worked very hard today" Ryuichiro spoke while gazing at the nightscape. Sara looked in the same direction. "[serious]I think it's because you supported me the whole time" The moment she realized what she'd said, it was already too late. "Ryuichiro-san." "[surprised]Oh, I'm sorry, I just..." She tried to correct herself to a more formal address, but couldn't decide what to call him instead, and her words trailed off. "Ayashima-sama" or "Ayashima-san"—both felt strange at this distance. Ryuichiro slowly turned to face her. He was smiling. The crease between his brows was gone. His sharp eyes had narrowed, and a shallow dimple appeared on only his left cheek. She thought she might be seeing it for the first time. Not that perfect gentleman's smile, but something closer to his true self—a smile where something had loosened. "[gentle]That's fine. I prefer it that way" "[surprised]But..." "Call me that. When we're not in public, like this." Sara didn't immediately grasp the meaning of those words. "When we're not in public, like this"—did that mean when they were alone? That she could treat him as something more than just a contractual relationship? Something small pulsed deep in her chest. (This is just an extension of the act.) That's what she told herself. A performance to look like a proper fiancée. A staging of their relationship. She understood. But that smile looked genuine, and that warmth felt genuine, so Sara turned her gaze back to the nightscape. She didn't want him to see her face—her cheeks felt hot. From inside the glass doors of the terrace, the noise of the Phoenix Hall continued. Yano was watching the two of them through the glass. He set his glass down quietly, his fingers moving to the temple of his glasses in that familiar gesture. His expression was too distant to read. —— The car stopped in front of Corpo Sakuradai. Sakuradai, Setagaya Ward. A nine-minute walk from the Odakyu Line station. A 28-year-old wooden apartment building. When Ryuichiro's private car pulled to the curb, the contrast with the surrounding landscape was striking. A single streetlight. The sign of a Daily Port convenience store glowing faintly in the distance. "[serious]Thank you very much for tonight. Was I of any help?" "[gentle]More than enough. I look forward to working with you further" "[serious]Likewise" Sara opened the door and stepped out. Gravel crunched under her shoes. The heels made walking difficult. The car window rolled down. "[gentle]Good night" "[serious]Good night" The car drove away. Its taillights receded into the distance and disappeared around a corner. Sara stood there for a moment. She unlocked room 203 and turned on the light. Her usual 68,000-yen room. A narrow kitchen, a folding table, the apartment wall visible through the window. She stood before the mirror. The girl in the dress looked back at her. Her hair, pinned up, had come slightly loose. The pearl earrings caught the fluorescent light with a soft glow. (Why are my cheeks so red?) "[serious]It's just an act, just an act" She said it aloud. But it didn't help much. The warmth of Ryuichiro's palm still seemed to linger in the middle of her back. That hand, merely resting there. Not pushing, not gripping tightly—just present. And yet it had made her feet move. And that smile. The dimple on his left cheek. "I prefer it that way." (I know it's calculated.) She knew. That man was all calculation. How to use Sara to avoid the marriage talk, where to intervene to improve his image—everything fit within his strategy. (And yet...) Why did that smile alone carry no scent of calculation? Sara turned away from the mirror. She slipped off her heels and took a bottle of mineral water from the refrigerator. She took a sip. Cold water passed