Nagisa still remembers the warmth of the blanket. That night——the weight of thin wool, gently draped over her sleeping form on the sofa, lingered somewhere in her body even now, days later. She found herself unconsciously wrapping her arms around her own shoulders. Each time she noticed, she'd scold herself to stop, but before long, she'd catch herself doing it again. (It was just an action within the contract. There's nothing special about it.) She understood that. And yet——standing before the mirror in the sub-room of Precia Minami-Aoyama, eighteen square meters of space, Nagisa found herself thinking about the place she was about to step into tonight. The Teito Hotel Tokyo——a fortress of a building in Chiyoda Ward's Uchisaiwaicho, boasting five hundred twenty guest rooms. Tonight, the informal salon of financial magnates known as the "Phoenix Society" would hold its quarterly dinner. The gathering, presided over by Suzaku Kenichi, was a place where forty-two financial leaders gathered by direct invitation only. Dinner course at thirty-eight thousand yen per person. The top floor's thirty-fifth level, the exclusive "Phoenix Room," was closed to the public——and Nagisa would attend as "the wife of Suzaku Toma." The instructions from Kenichi had been brief. "Accompany him to the June dinner." That was all. Toma had specified the dress in businesslike fashion, and Matsunaga——the sixty-year-old butler who managed Tsurushokukan——had prepared what Nagisa now wore. A deep navy dress. Lace ran from shoulder to chest, catching light with a faint shimmer depending on the angle. The hem brushed the floor. The texture was different from any garment she'd worn in her previous life. (Does it suit me?) Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Nagisa honestly couldn't tell. Whether the woman hanging laundry in a six-mat room in Corpo Shibamata and the figure in this mirror were truly the same person. She reached for her smartphone. She started to message her younger brother Riku, but her fingers trembled slightly. ——Are you doing okay? She typed only that and sent it. Nagisa understood almost entirely what that trembling meant. Fear, yes——and something else. The sense that if she were beside Toma, she might be able to overcome it. That contradiction and its denial coexisted within her, and Nagisa had refused to name it. 　　　　―――― The car ride to the Teito Hotel was silent. Jet-black short hair. Dark navy tuxedo. Toma, seated beside her, kept his gaze fixed on the nighttime Tokyo beyond the driver, his lips sealed. His blue-gray eyes quietly reflected the city lights flowing past. The faint crease between his brows——Nagisa sensed that Toma already understood this evening's gathering would be more than just a "showing of faces." Outside the window, Tokyo's night scenery flowed like a black river. Nagisa traced each particle of light with her eyes while remembering Shikao's voice. "Toma was laughing. Out loud, like an idiot." ——The embankment of the Tamagawa. A boy who silently wiped the scrape on his knee with his shirt hem after falling. Since hearing that story, something within Nagisa had begun to shift. The Toma before her and the boy Shikao had described were slowly beginning to connect. But at the same time, Shikao's kindness also lived in her chest. The story about ginger-fried pork in the cafeteria, his voice speaking softly near her ear, the warmth in his golden eyes when he looked at her——each time she recalled these things, Nagisa felt her heart being pulled in two directions, and that pulling filled her with a sense of guilt. (I'm not trying to compare. But I am comparing.) Between the two of them, a silence deeper than any before now settled. 　　　　―――― The Phoenix Room was far quieter than Nagisa had imagined. The thirty-fifth floor, the Teito Hotel's highest level. The exclusive space, which could accommodate fifty, was filled with subdued lighting, heavy curtains, and the restrained voices of those who moved financial markets. Beyond the windows, Tokyo's night scenery spread wide, and the abundance of light paradoxically sharpened the tension within the room. Nagisa stood slightly behind Toma, managing each course of the meal as best she could. She returned smiles to the words of the woman seated beside her. The angle of the fork, the way to hold the glass, how to begin a conversation——she should have grown somewhat accustomed to these things since the founding anniversary party. Midway through the dinner, Kenichi gave a subtle signal. Nagisa saw the movement from across the table. The sixty-two-year-old chairman with graying hair, quietly sending a sign. Beyond it stood a man in a black suit——Kisaragi Seiichiro. Suzaku Group General Affairs Department, External Relations Division. The man tasked with investigating Nagisa's background stood holding a thin clear file. (What is he trying to do?) Before Nagisa could finish the thought, Kisaragi began distributing materials. A single sheet of paper was passed to the hands of each financial leader around the table. Kenichi's voice spread calmly. "I wished to honestly inform you of the background of the woman my successor has chosen as his companion." After those words, the air in the room changed. Gazes converged. The woman seated beside Nagisa looked down at the paper she'd received. The same paper reached Nagisa's hands. Akitsuki Nagisa. Twenty-six years old. General administrative staff at "Suzaku Food Service," a Suzaku Group subsidiary. Annual income: 3.2 million yen. Resident of a thirty-five-year-old apartment in Shibamata, Katsushika Ward. Supports younger brother Akitsuki Riku's university tuition at 1.2 million yen annually. Savings balance at time of contract: 450,000 yen. Numbers. Lined up. The entire volume of Nagisa's life fit on a single A4 sheet. (This is my price.) Her head understood it. She might have sensed all along that something like this could come. But when the words actually appeared before her eyes——something inside Nagisa began to crumble quietly, yet certainly. Not quite shame. Not quite wretchedness. The sensation that her life, her efforts, the days she'd spent supporting her brother——were being converted into numbers and appraised. That pressure compressed her from the inside out. Kenichi's tone remained calm to the end. Nagisa understood with her entire being that this struck deeper than direct attack. More cruel than being shouted at, more cruel than being pitied——this quiet "disclosure" was far more devastating. Toma's expression hadn't changed at all. Seated, his blue-gray eyes remained fixed forward. Nothing could be read from his profile. Nothing could be read——and yet beneath the table, Nagisa's right hand clenched into a fist. So tightly it turned white. The edge of Toma's vision caught it. In that moment, Nagisa reached for her glass. She tried to drink water. Trying to hide her tension, trying to compose herself——she tilted the glass too far. Water nearly spilled onto the arm of the woman beside her. Without a sound, Toma's hand grasped Nagisa's wrist. The glass was righted. No water spilled. The woman gave a small laugh of "oh my," and Nagisa bowed her head saying "I'm terribly sorry." That was all. But——the sensation of Toma's fingers on her wrist wouldn't fade. Whether it was "contract management" or "the will to protect"——ambiguous enough to be read either way. That hand had already released her. But Nagisa's pulse was racing. She couldn't tell if he was angry or worried, but that hand had been warm——this contradictory sensation was carved into the depths of her chest. Nagisa tried to process that feeling while facing forward, but couldn't. 　　　　―――― A break was announced. The financial leaders rose from their seats and scattered into the hallway and adjacent rooms. Nagisa tried to stand as well——in that moment, Toma rose first and came to her side. No words. He simply began walking. Nagisa followed his back. They stepped into the hallway. Toma walked in the direction opposite the flow of people. Deeper. Further. To the end. A window appeared. Tokyo's night scenery, viewed from the thirty-fifth floor, spread before them. A mass of lights spanning from Chiyoda Ward to Minato Ward burned quietly beneath the black sky. No one else in the hallway besides the two of them. Toma stood directly before Nagisa. "I'm sorry about the glass. That was——" Nagisa's words stopped. It wasn't a voice that stopped them. Toma's hand was placed on her shoulder. The night he'd draped the blanket, when he'd touched her waist at the founding anniversary party——the same motion, a third time. But this time was different. There was no hesitation. Toma's blue-gray eyes looked directly at Nagisa from the front. "I will handle matters concerning you." His voice was low and quiet. But it carried a temperature different from his usual businesslike composure. Something that was being suppressed yet not fully suppressed——it seeped into the edges of his voice. (This person is making that kind of voice?) Nagisa's eyes grew hot. Not sadness. Not joy either. She wanted to believe these words, but something within her wouldn't allow it because this was a contract——that searing contradiction accumulated behind her eyes. She knew her eyes were glistening. Toma saw Nagisa's eyes grow moist. His hand on her shoulder began to pull away——and stopped just before. It wasn't something passive like "unable to let go." It was the will that "must not let go"——a moment when, for the first time in Toma, this rose not as "obligation" but as "choice." 　　　　―――― At the far end of the hallway, a figure appeared. Silver-tinged gray short hair. Gentle golden eyes——Shikao, from the darkness of the distant hallway, was watching the two of them. For twelve years, he had been at Toma's side. He had read his expressions, the tremors in his voice, more accurately than anyone. ——What now floated across Toma's face, Shikao had never seen before. The man called the Ice Emperor, trying to protect her, unable to let go of her hand. Shikao read the meaning of that accurately from across the dark hallway. And at the same time——he understood what he himself was trying to do. Shikao approached. Not toward Toma, but toward Nagisa. "Nagisa." His voice was quiet, yet filled with certainty. Nagisa turned. Shikao's step drew closer to her——in that moment, Shikao's fingertip grazed the back of Nagisa's hand. Whether intentional or not, indeterminate contact. But it was certainly warm. "There is a way out of the contract. You can leave the Suzaku family." Nagisa's lungs stopped moving for an instant. Toma's expression froze like stone. Not anger, not surprise. An expression like a moment of stillness just before something inside him would be severed. "Shikao." Toma spoke only one word. Shikao didn't look at Toma. His golden eyes looked straight at Nagisa. Nagisa looked at Toma. Then at Shikao. Then at Toma again. Whether Toma's "protection" came from obligation or from his true heart——Nagisa couldn't tell. Whether Shikao's "let's escape" came from pure kindness or from something else——she couldn't tell that either. The three of them stood frozen in the hallway as seconds of silence fell. That silence was heavy. Heavy enough to stop breathing. The sensation of Shikao's fingertip on the back of her hand remained. The warmth of Toma's hand on her shoulder still lingered. Two temperatures existed simultaneously, and Nagisa tried to judge which was real——but couldn't. 　　　　―――― From deeper in the hallway, footsteps approached. A secretary in a black suit bowed politely and spoke. "We are ready to resume the gathering." The stalemate between the three was broken by external force. Toma released his hand from Nagisa's shoulder. He said nothing. He turned on his heel and began walking toward the Phoenix Room. His back receded into the distance. Nagisa tried to follow that back—