Morning sunlight streamed through the narrow room as Sora Mochizuki opened her eyes. She stared at the water stain on the ceiling. The same ceiling as always. The same morning as always. Even now, at twenty-four, nothing had changed. Rolling over, her gaze caught on the stack of envelopes piled beside the bed. Demand notices. So many accumulated that she'd stopped counting. Debt from her father's failed business venture. A total of 48 million yen. With an annual income of 2.8 million yen, it was a sum she could never repay in a lifetime. "Was I dreaming again?" Sora whispered to herself. Every morning when she woke, reality threatened to crush her. In the kitchen, her mother, Kumiko, was already preparing breakfast. Her face bore the exhaustion of someone far older than her mid-fifties. Before heading to her part-time job three days a week, she moved through the familiar motions of cooking in silence. "Good morning, Sora." Just those few words. Nothing more. In this house, the subject of debt was avoided. "Good morning." Sora always used formal language with her parents. Not because she was a child, but because of the guilt she carried. Her very existence had become a burden to this family. That's what she believed. She sat at the table and sipped plain rice porridge. It had no taste. She gathered her chestnut-brown medium-length hair into a single ponytail at the back of her head. In the mirror, she could see exhaustion clouding her pale amber eyes. She pulled on her cheap suit. This was how she'd head to Nagi Wood Trading. Every day, the same. "I'm going." She watched her mother's back and left the room. Nagi Wood Trading—a small-to-mid-sized trading company in Tokyo. An office supplies and stationery wholesaler with about thirty employees. Sora had worked here as an administrative assistant for four years. Her salary was roughly 230,000 yen per month. After taxes, about 180,000 yen. Most of it went toward repaying her parents. On the train, she gazed out the window. Crowds of people heading toward Tokyo's business district. They all seemed to walk with purpose. Where was she going? Sora asked herself. "How much longer can I keep living like this?" Even at work, that thought consumed her. Email replies to clients, organizing invoices, data entry. Her hands moved mechanically, but her mind drifted elsewhere. 5 PM. The moment she stepped out of the Nagi Wood Trading building, it happened. A black luxury car pulled up silently in front of her. "Ah..." Sora caught her breath. The driver stepped out and respectfully offered her a business card. His movements were composed, assured. In this city, only certain people carried themselves this way. "You are being summoned by Renya Aoba, Chairman of the Silverstone Group." Sora took the card. Her hands trembled. Silverstone Group. A major conglomerate handling real estate, finance, and hotel operations. Annual revenue exceeding one trillion yen—an industry giant. And Renya Aoba. The chairman was only twenty-eight years old. In the industry, he was called the "Ice Emperor"—a ruthlessly cold businessman. Why would someone like him call for her? On the back of the card were a date and location. Tomorrow evening at 6 PM. A suite in a luxury hotel in Tokyo. "What could this possibly be about?" Sora whispered to herself on the train ride home. --- The following evening at 5:50 PM. Sora stood in the hotel elevator, her heart pounding violently. Would this suit be acceptable? These shoes? She checked herself repeatedly. Was her hair in place? She arrived at the top floor. Passing through the opulent white-toned lobby, she gave her name at the front desk. The staff guided her immediately—as if they'd been expecting her all along. Before the heavy door of the suite, Sora knocked. "Come in." A low, cold voice. She opened the door. A tall man standing by the window turned to face her. Renya Aoba. He radiated a presence far more overwhelming than she'd imagined. Clad in a black suit, an aura of calculated coldness emanated from him. His sharp gaze was that of a predator stalking prey. Even from two meters away, Sora felt her breath catch. His black hair was neatly trimmed, his angular features those of a mature man. Twenty-eight years old, yet his eyes bore the weight of countless decisions and responsibilities. His fingers were long, his nails trimmed short in the manner of a businessman. "Sora Mochizuki. Twenty-four years old. Employed at Nagi Wood Trading. Annual income: 2.8 million yen." Renya recited her personal information in a flat, matter-of-fact tone. "Parental debt: 48 million yen total. Liability from your father Koji Mochizuki's failed real estate venture. Trapped in monthly repayments with no prospects for your future." Each word struck at her heart. He'd investigated her thoroughly. "I... um..." As Sora tried to speak, Renya raised his hand to silence her. "Listen. Questions come later." Without turning from the window, he continued quietly. "I'm proposing a contract marriage to you." With those words, Sora felt her grip on reality slip. "A contract... marriage?" "Yes. The terms are as follows: I will assume all your parents' debt. Monthly living allowance of 500,000 yen. Duration: three years. During that time, you will conduct yourself as my wife. After three years, we divorce. Upon divorce, there are penalty clauses and confidentiality agreements." He turned to face her, his gaze fixed on hers. In his eyes, she saw herself reflected—small, fragile. "...Why me?" Her voice trembled as she asked. Renya answered without expression. "You don't need to know why. Yes or no. That's all." A contract lay on the desk. Sora approached and began reading. Legal language spelled out the conditions. Full assumption of debt, monthly living allowance of 500,000 yen, cohabitation at the Aoba residence, conduct as an official married couple, a penalty of 100 million yen upon divorce, confidentiality clauses, and numerous other detailed provisions. None of it felt real. "Here's a pen." Renya offered it to her. In that moment, her parents' faces flashed through her mind. Her mother's exhausted expression. Her father's defeated posture. Was there any other way to save this family? Sora gripped the pen with trembling hands. She signed. "One more thing. Don't tell your parents anything about the other party. The debt will be repaid in full by tomorrow. The day after, a car will pick you up at 8 AM." Renya collected the contract and continued mechanically. "Bring minimal luggage. We'll provide what you need." "Um... what should I tell my family...?" Sora asked hesitantly. Renya answered coldly. "Tell them you're getting married. No further explanation is necessary." When she left the suite, Sora felt as though her feet weren't touching the ground. As the elevator descended, she couldn't comprehend what she'd done, what had happened. Outside the hotel, Tokyo's nighttime cityscape spread before her. That evening, she told her parents: "I'm getting married." They were shocked. They were overjoyed. Her father's eyes reddened. Her mother asked "Really?" over and over. "Yes, really," Sora answered. The next day, she learned that the 48 million yen debt had been paid in full. Her father wept aloud. Her mother's face, for the first time, showed relief. And yet, a heavy stone had settled in Sora's chest. Before bed, she spoke to her reflection in the mirror, repeating the words over and over. "It's okay. It'll be okay." But the words echoed back hollow and empty. The anxiety wouldn't fade. If anything, it deepened. Through the window, Tokyo's nightscape glowed. Toward that unseen future beyond, Sora drew a deep breath. The next morning, a black luxury car pulled up in front of the small apartment building in Kawasaki. Sora, clutching a single Boston bag, stepped toward her new life.