Since that night, Hana hadn't slept. In the six-tatami apartment Sota had arranged for her, she'd watched the night give way to morning, her eyes fixed on the ceiling. White morning light filtered through the gaps in the curtains into the darkened room. She'd thought about the melon bread over and over. The feeling of touching it gently through the bag. Bread that Ren had bought from Komuginokaze after taking the train all the way to Yanaka. Every morning, without a word, it had been waiting on the counter. (Why did I say something like that?) "I did something unnecessary"—that voice still echoed in the back of her ears. But. Even as she tried to push away the thought of Ren—his voice trembling as he said "I'm the worst kind of man"—she couldn't. The memory clung to her, refusing to be dislodged. --- The Kirishima house in Nezu, Bunkyo Ward, was quiet in the morning light. The air after rain, peculiar to the rainy season. It smelled of damp earth, and the hydrangeas in the small garden swayed heavily with their blue and purple blooms. Raindrops rolled one by one down the petals and fell. Ren stood in front of the fence. A simple black shirt. Not his usual suit. Only the silver ear cuff on his right ear caught the morning light with a faint gleam. The red mesh in his black hair was slightly disheveled, though there was no wind. He couldn't press the intercom. He'd known it before he came. Ever since he'd decided at Sota's clinic—"Tomorrow, I'll find where Hana is on my own"—he'd been heading here. The concierge Kashiwagi had told him that he'd learned the address of Hana's family home from mail addressed to her father, Soichiro, that had come before. "I've thought Ren-sama seemed strange lately," Kashiwagi had said, handing him a memo. And yet, when he arrived here—the moment he saw the hydrangeas in the garden, his feet stopped. This is Hana's world, he thought. The shopping street in Yanaka. The Komuginokaze bag. The simple silver ring passed down from her mother. And this, the carefully tended flowers in the small garden. The world Ren inhabited—the penthouse of a tower mansion, the executive conference room, the hotel bar lounge—was completely different from where Hana was. (Is this a place I'm allowed to come to?) He felt pathetic. At twenty-nine, he couldn't move from in front of someone's house. Footsteps came from the veranda. The man who came out into the garden was elderly. A white shirt, a worn apron. He seemed to be bringing in laundry, holding a towel in his hand. Ren understood that this was Hana's father—Kirishima Soichiro. Sixty-two years old. He went for dialysis three times a week due to chronic kidney disease. But in this moment, this man wasn't speaking of medical expenses or contracts—he simply looked straight at Ren standing outside the fence and silently pointed toward the entrance. Not driving him away. Not appraising him. Just—if you've come, then come in. That was the face he made. Something moved inside Ren. --- Hana opened the front door three minutes after her father told her "someone's outside." Ren was standing beside the fence. His back was turned to her, facing the hydrangeas in the garden. The moment she saw that back, every word vanished from Hana's mind. Ren slowly turned around. Not a suit. A simple black shirt. His silver eyes, usually sharp and composed—were different today. Tired somehow, yet as if he'd made some kind of decision. A strange expression on his face. Hana tried to speak. But Ren opened his mouth first. "[serious]...The hydrangeas are beautiful," "[surprised]Huh?" "[serious]Did your mother plant these?" Hana paused for a moment, then nodded. "[gentle]Yes. They bloom every year at this time," Ren looked at her once more. Then his gaze fell to the ground, and he slowly drew in a breath. Silence stretched between them. The air after the rain was cool, and the blue of the hydrangeas was vivid. A bird sang somewhere in the distance. "[cold]...I," He started to speak, then stopped. Something seemed caught in his throat. (What is he trying to say?) Hana waited silently. "[serious]My mother died when I was fourteen," His voice was quiet. But the weight of those words made Hana's body stiffen slightly. It was the same thing he'd said trembling on the balcony in episode three. But today—something was different. "[serious]Ever since then, I've been afraid of truly loving someone. Afraid of losing them again. So I made a rule—to keep emotion out of it. I thought if I made it a contract, I wouldn't get hurt," Ren's eyes shifted slightly away from her. "[serious]But—when I saw you eating the melon bread with that happy expression on your face. The night you caught a cold and couldn't sleep, when I put a Pocari Sweat by your pillow. The moment I saw you burst into that conference room, I didn't want to lose you," His voice trembled faintly. "[serious]It was all real," Tears spilled from Hana's eyes. She tried to stop them, but they wouldn't stop. "[serious]...I'm the worst kind of man. I was afraid, couldn't let go of my pride, and pushed you away. I said those terrible things," Ren looked at her. Those silver eyes were wavering. He wore a face he never showed—raw and exposed. Hana was crying. But she was also smiling. "[crying]...That's the worst confession I've ever heard," "[serious]...I know," She took a step toward him. Then another. And then—she pressed her face against his chest. For a moment, Ren didn't move. He seemed frozen, unsure what to do. But then, slowly, both his arms came around her back. It was awkward. And yet—he held her properly. The hydrangeas Hana's mother had planted swayed, shedding raindrops. --- After some time, Ren gently released her. Without a word, he put his hand in his pocket and took out a small box. Inside was a ring—nothing like the one the law firm had prepared for the contract. It was simple, almost plain. But Hana understood that Ren had chosen this himself, going from jewelry shop to jewelry shop. She couldn't explain how she knew, but she did. "[serious]I'm dissolving the contract," Ren's voice was slightly lower. "[serious]This time—be beside me as something real," He took her left hand, hesitating slightly. As he moved to slip the ring on—Ren's hand trembled faintly. This was the first time Hana had ever seen him shake. She extended her finger toward him of her own accord. "[gentle]...Yes," The moment the ring slipped on, Ren exhaled softly, as if relieved. It was a face she'd never seen before—as if a long tension had finally broken. The hydrangeas in the garden swayed in the morning light. --- That night, a message arrived on Sota's phone from Hana. The text was short. "Thank you, Sota." That was all. Sota stood by the window of his room on the third floor of the clinic, looking out at the nightscape of Bunkyo Ward. Lit houses. Headlights of cars running in the distance. A quiet residential neighborhood. He stood there for a while. (Ah, I see.) Something he'd carried deep in his chest for years slowly descended. It would be a lie to say he wasn't frustrated. But strangely—it felt refreshing. Looking at his phone screen, Sota typed a reply. "Be happy. I missed my timing again," A few seconds later, a message came back from Hana: "That's the worst." Sota smiled a little. "Going back to see patients," He sent just that, marked it as read, and put his phone back in his pocket. The corner of his eye felt warm. But Sota picked up his white coat and headed down the stairs. --- The next morning, Sumi arrived early at Mano Capital's office in Minami-Aoyama. Beyond the window stretched the morning streets of Aoyama. She liked this view. The same view that had been there since she'd founded this company alone five years ago. On her desk lay documents for a new startup investment proposal. The next project. The next business. Before opening those documents, Sumi looked out the window once. (...Ren went all the way to Yanaka.) The words Hana had spoken still lingered in her mind. He'd taken the train and bought melon bread. Every morning, without saying a word, he'd left it there. In the two years she'd been beside him, he'd never done anything like that for her. Whether that was jealousy or something else entirely, Sumi couldn't quite sort it out. But there was one thing she understood. (That person was serious. About that girl.) Her eyes drifted to a small photo frame on the corner of her desk. Not a two-shot with Ren. A commemorative photo taken alone on the day Mano Capital was founded. She was smiling. A genuinely happy expression. "[whispers]...I need to move forward too," She murmured softly and turned the page of the document. --- The chairman's office on the thirty-eighth floor of Crossfield Tower. Morning light illuminated the city of Tokyo. From this height, the city always seemed quieter. Kurosaki Goichi stood waiting for Seiji. Seiji, the executive vice president, entered. A gentle smile. But calculation flickered in the depths of his eyes. Goichi spoke curtly. "[serious]That's enough. Those two are the real thing," Seiji's expression froze. "[serious]...However, Chairman—" "[cold]Stand down," A single word. Nothing more, nothing less. Seiji clenched his teeth, bowed, and left the room. Alone now, Goichi opened a drawer. An old photograph lay inside. A photo of his late wife, Ayako. Warm eyes. The same slightly narrow eyes as Ren. Goichi took it out and placed it by the window. The morning light of Tokyo fell across the photograph. "[whispers]...That boy found a woman like you," His voice was low. Hard, but beneath it—the face of a father was unmistakably there. --- Hana entered the lobby of Residence Prisma. Kashiwagi, the concierge, looked up from behind the counter. His forty-five-year-old gentle face softened with relief. "[gentle]Welcome home, Kirishima-sama," Hana smiled. "[gentle]I'm home, Kashiwagi," She rode the elevator to the forty-second floor. The doors opened, and she unlocked the penthouse entrance. This was the first time she'd thought "I'm home" in this apartment. Ren was in the living room. Two cups of coffee, prepared in new dishes. The white, simple cups they'd chosen together the other day. Hana set down her things and sat beside him. Beyond the window stretched the nightscape of Tokyo. Countless lights flickered quietly. She took a sip of coffee. It was warm. For a while, they both gazed at the night view. "[gentle]...Hey," "What?" "[gentle]Will you buy melon bread for me tomorrow too?" Ren paused for a moment. Then he said bluntly: "[cold]Check the refrigerator," Hana stood up and opened the refrigerator—and there was a Komuginokaze bag inside. Walnut bread and melon bread, two of each, waiting properly. "[laughing]...Seriously!" Hana laughed. Ren's mouth curved up, just slightly. On the table sat only the dishes they'd chosen together. The contract was gone. The nightscape of Tokyo glowed quietly beyond the window. This was the beginning.