Lunchtime, and the first-floor café at Kizawa Planning was crowded. Saori Misawa took a seat at a small table by the window. Steam rose from her coffee mug. On the pale ivory tablecloth, a few breadcrumbs from breakfast lingered. While letting her eyes drift across these small, trivial things, Saori waited. "Sorry for keeping you." Miho Totsuka appeared in the adjacent seat. Her usual cheerfulness seemed like a lie—her expression was rigid. The corners of her mouth had fallen. Around her eyes, the color of exhaustion hung like a stain. Miho was twenty-eight. With her short permed hair, her face usually suited a smile. But now, that smile had vanished. "Are you alright?" Saori found herself asking. She'd never seen Miho wear such an expression. Something serious had happened. She understood it by instinct alone. "...Thank you. I really struggled with whether I could tell you this." Miho leaned toward the space between the window glass and Saori's body—out of sight of the café. She lowered her voice. So no one nearby would hear. "Actually, I have to go back to my hometown." "My mother... she collapsed. A stroke." Saori caught her breath. Until yesterday, Miho had been fine. If anything, she'd seemed more energetic than usual. The sudden shift left her bewildered. "That's... terrible." Words wouldn't come. What could she say? Saori searched desperately for something to offer. "But... at the hospital, surely..." "The rehabilitation will take a long time, apparently. My mother's alone. As her younger sister, I have to take care of her." Miho's voice grew thin. "So the company..." "You're quitting?" When Saori asked, Miho shook her head. "No. Before that..." Miho gripped her café latte cup. With both hands. As if clinging to its warmth. "Actually, the company's HR department approached me recently." "About what?" "They selected me as a candidate for the fiancée of Kyoichiro Saginomiya—the vice president of the Saginomiya Group." Saori doubted her ears. "A fiancée...?" It was something from a different world entirely. Unrelated to her. The Saginomiya Group. That massive corporate conglomerate. The Saginomiya Tower gleaming in the morning sun—the figure standing at its apex. "Yes. Apparently it's called a 'political marriage' within the group. Basically, there are adult circumstances involved. Factions. Vested interests. That sort of thing." "You...?" Saori's voice grew small. "Someone like me—an ordinary woman—there's no way I'd be chosen. But somehow, HR approached me directly. Like, 'What about Totsuka from Kizawa Planning?'" "That's..." "I know, right? That's what I thought too." Miho gave a bitter laugh. She wasn't really laughing. Only the shape of her mouth mimicked laughter. "But. My mother collapsed. So I couldn't refuse this offer anymore." Saori began to slowly understand what Miho was saying. "Do you need... money?" "Yes." Miho nodded. "My mother's rehabilitation costs. Hospital bills. My sister's tuition. It's all not enough. Not on my salary. So I was thinking about taking HR up on their offer. They said they'd give me money if I agreed to the engagement." "Wait. But then..." Saori's mind began to spin. "That's the thing." Miho fixed her gaze on Saori. Her eyes were pleading. "Actually, yesterday I got another offer. An ex-boyfriend from university runs a small restaurant. He said, 'I want you to help me. I'll pay you.' But it's not in Tokyo—it's in my hometown." "I see..." "So I have to back out of the engagement. But apparently they've already set a date for the engagement announcement party. I can't just suddenly say, 'Never mind.'" Saori tried to organize the situation. Her head was reeling. "Then what will you do?" "This is where it gets to the point." Miho leaned closer to Saori, still holding the cup with both hands. "I was wondering if someone could take my place. Someone who could go by the name 'fiancée' and be with him until the announcement party, and then afterward, for some reason, say, 'Let's call off the engagement.'" Saori's heart stopped for a moment. "Me?" "Yes." Miho nodded. "You're the only one I could ask something like this of." "But I..." "Because you're plain. Because you don't stand out. But because you're sincere. Because you seem bad at lying. So I think the other person would think, 'Ah, this person is trustworthy.'" Saori couldn't tell if that was praise or insult. "What's the compensation?" Miho paused, then said it. "Five million yen." The world stopped. Five million yen. Saori's annual salary was 3.8 million. In other words, she'd receive a year's worth of her salary all at once. Her brother's university fees. Money to send to her parents. Her own anxieties about the future. All of it—solved with that amount. "..." Saori couldn't say anything. "Will you think about it?" "...I'd like to meet him first." The words came out of her mouth. "Really?" Miho's eyes widened. "Yes. I want to understand what kind of person he is. What kind of situation this is. I want to give you an answer after I really understand." Saori's polite way of speaking was steady. Even though, in truth, her heart was wavering. "Thank you. Really, thank you so much." Miho's eyes filled with tears. "Tonight at 8 PM. Can you come to the 37th floor of the Saginomiya Tower? Meet him in the vice president's office. Then you can decide." "...Understood." 5 PM. Saori finished work. She shut down her computer, tidied her desk. Her coworkers left one by one. But Saori didn't leave. At a convenience store near the station, she bought a bottle of tea. She sat on a bench and drank it. Killing time. Otherwise, she wouldn't arrive at the Saginomiya Tower by 7 PM. Her heart had begun to beat rapidly from around this point. 7:45 PM. Saori stood before the Saginomiya Tower. A 38-story building. With nighttime lighting, it seemed even brighter, even more overwhelming. A castle of glass and steel. She was about to step inside it. "Excuse me." She spoke to the security guard. Politely. While hiding the trembling in her body. "Good evening. The 37th floor, vice president's office." The guard checked his list. Then he showed her a no. "Ah, sorry. What's your business?" "Um, well... the vice president..." Her words got stuck. She steadied her breathing. "I'm supposed to meet with the vice president on his instructions." "Did Kyoichiro tell you to come?" "Yes." Saori lied without thinking. She'd heard it from Miho, not from the vice president. But the guard didn't ask further. He checked something on his list and nodded. "Please use the private elevator. It's in the back right." Inside the elevator. Saori was alone. She looked at herself in the ceiling mirror. Her hair wasn't disheveled. Her suit was clean. But her face was pale. Her eyes wavered with anxiety. The elevator rose. First floor. Tenth floor. Twentieth floor. Thirtieth floor. And then, the 37th. The doors opened. It was another world. On both sides of the hallway, expensive carpet was laid. When she walked, her footsteps were absorbed. On the walls, famous paintings hung. Saori couldn't judge their value, but they were surely quite expensive. "Here it is." In her mind, Saori told herself. She reached the vice president's office. A heavy wooden door. On it, a small plaque—*Kyoichiro Saginomiya* written on it. Saori knocked. Her hand was trembling. "Excuse me." She opened the door herself. In that instant, the world transformed. From floor to ceiling, everything was monochrome. Black floor. White walls. And within it—luxurious furnishings were arranged. A large desk. Bookshelves. And a window—the vast Tokyo night view spread out below. And on that sofa sat two men. One was dark. Deep black hair. Refined features. But his eyes were cold. Dark brown irises. What reflected in those eyes was evaluation. Appraisal. A gaze that looked at her like some kind of merchandise. Black suit, pure white shirt. And on his right ear, a small piercing. Thirty-one years old. 185 centimeters tall. That overwhelming presence. That sense of intimidation. As if this entire room revolved around this man. The other seemed kind. Black hair swept neatly back. Refined features. Gray eyes. Those eyes seemed to hold warmth. But—Saori sensed something different. In the depths of those eyes. Immeasurable. Dark. Something was hidden. Twenty-eight years old. 178 centimeters tall. The suit worn without a single wrinkle. And the corners of his mouth—slightly raised. As if smiling, yet not smiling. That uncanny atmosphere. Saori couldn't move a step. "I'm Kyoichiro Saginomiya. You're Saori Misawa?" The dark man spoke. Low. A composed voice. But within it dwelt a desire to dominate. "Yes. I'm Saori Misawa." Saori's voice was frail. "...Quite plain, aren't you?" That was his first impression. Saori's chest pricked with pain. "Nice to meet you. I'm Nanjo, Kyoichiro's secretary." The gentler man smiled softly. With that smile, the air in the room became slightly warmer. But Saori felt it. Behind that smile. His true self was hidden. "Please, sit." Kyoichiro gestured to a chair with his finger. Saori sat down slowly. "Have I explained the conditions to you?" "No. I haven't heard anything." "I see. Then let me explain." Kyoichiro took a contract from his desk. "Six months. Publicly, you'll act as my fiancée. Compensation is five million yen. Paid upfront. However, I won't tolerate failure. If you do anything that becomes a social problem, litigation is on the table." "..." Saori felt crushed by the weight of those words. "Why me...?" "You happened to be convenient." Nanjo answered. His voice was gentle. But to Saori, that gentleness felt like a blade. "You seem sincere. You seem bad at lying. Precisely because of that, you're trustworthy." The meaning of those words became clear to Saori. She was easy to use. "Sign the contract." Kyoichiro held out a pen. Saori took it. Her hand was shaking. "Decide now. Sign, or leave." Those words split her life in two. This side—ordinary, plain, nothing. That side—five million yen, changing everything. Saori lowered the pen to the contract. She signed. She wrote her own name. In that moment, Kyoichiro said coldly: "Starting tomorrow, your hell begins. Be prepared." Nanjo continued to smile quietly, his gaze fixed on Saori. In that gaze, Saori felt something. Possessiveness. Obsession. And—something dark from his past. Only then did Saori truly understand: she had stepped into a world from which there was no return.