Yesterday, when she'd nearly stumbled in her heels, the sensation of gripping Minajo's hand had lingered on her arm ever since. Saori brushed it away—literally, as if shaking off dust—and pressed the elevator button in the Saginomiya Tower. Floor 37. Day three of special training. Table manners were finally starting to take shape. Her walking had improved a little from yesterday, she thought. This morning, when she'd stood in front of the mirror with her spine straight right after waking, she'd caught a glimpse of something—just for a moment—that looked almost like a "young lady." She'd been surprised at herself. (I'll do my best today too.) With that thought, she opened the door to the special reception room. "Today's training is social conversation," said. He sat on the sofa with his legs crossed. Black suit. Cold dark-brown eyes. Beyond the window, Tokyo's skyline of high-rises stretched endlessly. *This man suits this view perfectly,* Saori thought somewhere in the back of her mind. "In upper-class circles, you're expected to discuss politics, economics, and the arts with at least a minimum level of education. Can you do that?" Minajo stood quietly beside her. Refined features. Black hair swept back. The same gentle smile as always. But since yesterday, Saori found she couldn't look directly at that smile anymore. "I-I'll do my best," said. "Not 'do your best'—the question is whether you can or cannot," replied. Last night, Saori had prepared desperately. She'd read economic news on her smartphone. Researched articles about art. Written notes in her memo pad. On the train. Before bed. Everywhere. (*I'm absolutely going to do well today.*) Minajo suggested, "Let's start with a mock conversation." Kyoichiro would play the role of a guest from high society; Saori would play his fiancée. They would perform a dialogue. "Then," said. He paused for just a moment, as if collecting himself, then opened his mouth. "Ms. Misawa, what are your thoughts on recent stock market trends?" It came. She was prepared. "U-um... recently, the Nikkei average has gone up a little..." "Why did it go up? What's the background?" She searched her mental notes. But when asked so suddenly, the words wouldn't come. "...America's... interest rates..." "Superficial," said. Just one short word. But it felt like all of Saori's preparation crumbled in that instant. "If you can't explain the background of why it went up, then it doesn't constitute a conversation. If all you're doing is spouting numbers, you might as well just search on your smartphone," continued. The next question came. "Recent trends in contemporary art," "Um... NFT?" "That's a topic from five years ago. What about now?" She didn't know. She'd researched it last night, but she hadn't anticipated being asked from this angle. "..." Kyoichiro didn't stop asking. "What opera performance is trending in Milan this month?" "What are the latest points of contention at the EU summit?" She couldn't answer any of them. Not a single one. Despite all her desperate research last night, when actually questioned, the words wouldn't come. Everything she'd prepared in her head scattered like thin paper caught in the wind. "You can't... expect me to memorize all this... on the spot..." Her voice trembled. It was almost a whisper to herself. But Kyoichiro heard it. "Then you are unqualified," said. Low. Calm. Emotionless. The tone of someone simply stating a fact. "In high society, ignorance is shameful. For an amateur like you to play my fiancée was impossible from the start," Something inside her chest contracted sharply. (*I know. I know that's why I studied so hard last night.*) Three days. She'd come every day. She'd tried. She'd stumbled, been laughed at, and felt like she was moving forward bit by bit. (*And yet—'unqualified' again.*) That word fell like a drop into the depths of her heart. And in that moment, something snapped. "...I can't do this anymore," Tears mixed into her voice. She was surprised at herself. "I'm not like you people! My birth, my upbringing—everything is different! I can't do this!" She'd shouted it. Looking directly at Kyoichiro. The reception room fell silent. Tokyo beyond the window glowed on, indifferent. Kyoichiro's expression didn't change. "Then the contract is terminated. I'll have you return the five million yen," The strength drained from her knees. Saori collapsed right there—beside a chair, onto the floor. (*It's over.*) Her brother's tuition. Support for her parents. Everything—gone. Then Minajo spoke. "Kyoichiro-sama, please wait a moment," His voice was calm. Quiet, but it cut through with certainty. Kyoichiro looked at Minajo. Between them, there seemed to pass some wordless exchange. "Ms. Misawa, let's take a break. I'd like to speak with you," Minajo walked toward Saori and extended his hand. Saori took it. She stood up. She was led to an adjacent small conference room. The door closed. It became quiet. "...You're all right. You're doing well," Minajo sat before a low table and smiled at Saori. He pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket. Saori realized for the first time that she was crying. Her cheeks were wet. Minajo offered the handkerchief. Saori took it and wiped her eyes. "...Thank you very much," "Kyoichiro-sama's demands are certainly harsh at times. But it also means his expectations for you are that high," (*Expectations?*) Saori couldn't believe those words. That man's eyes had looked at her like she was a "useless tool." Minajo's hand touched hers—along with the handkerchief. "You're truly doing wonderfully. In three days, there aren't many people who can absorb as much as you have," His voice was gentle. His words were warm. Saori's heart eased just a little. But then. Minajo's hand moved slowly to her cheek. (*Huh?*) "You are... truly beautiful," His voice had changed. The gentleness remained, but its temperature was different. This wasn't the "Secretary Minajo" from before. Something else was seeping through. Saori froze. His hand rested against her cheek, unmoving. (*I have to pull away.*) But her body wouldn't move. Minajo's gray eyes looked only at her. Not the quiet eyes from before. Something dark and hot flickered in their depths. "I want to know more about you. Everything about you..." His hand moved to her shoulder. Fear slid down the back of her neck, down her spine. "Minajo-san, please stop!" Saori wrenched her hand away and stood up. Her voice came out—clear and sharp, surprising even herself. Minajo froze for a moment. A look of surprise crossed his face. He hadn't expected her to reject him so forcefully. Then, just as quickly, his usual gentle smile returned. "I'm sorry. I got a little... carried away," That smile terrified her. His voice apologized. But his eyes didn't smile. Saori backed toward the wall and grabbed the door handle. She tried to leave. "Wait," His voice reached her back. "I'll convince Kyoichiro-sama. You mustn't give up here," Saori turned around. "...Why would you go that far?" Minajo stood and looked at her. Slowly. Quietly. "Because you're exactly the kind of person I thought you were," She didn't understand. What did he mean by "the kind of person I thought"? That she was living up to his expectations? Or did it mean something else entirely? Without waiting for her answer, Minajo opened the door to the special reception room and stepped inside. Saori was left alone in the small conference room. (*What does that mean?*) Her chest was a mess. She'd been crying moments ago, but now she couldn't cry. The fear from before, the words "you're doing well," the voice saying "everything about you," and the phrase "exactly the kind of person I thought you were"—they all tumbled around separately inside her. After a while, the door opened. It was Minajo. "Ms. Misawa, please come back," "...Did Kyoichiro-sama...?" "Yes," When she entered the special reception room, Kyoichiro stood facing the window. He didn't turn around. Silence stretched for several seconds. "...I'll give you one more chance," His voice was low. Flat. Yet the man who'd said "contract terminated" was now taking it back. Saori bowed her head slightly. "...Yes," Kyoichiro didn't turn around. Minajo stood beside Saori and said "let's continue" with his usual gentle expression. The training began again. As Saori answered Kyoichiro's questions, part of her mind kept circling back to one thing. Minajo still hadn't explained what he meant. "Because you're exactly the kind of person I thought you were." The weight of those words remained caught in her chest, refusing to let go.