Last night, Renya's words had been spinning around in her head. "Three years as per the contract. You just have to endure that long." Cold words. And yet, somehow they felt like he was protecting her. She could still feel the warmth of his hand. (No. I can't think like this.) Mochizuki Saira shook her head and straightened her posture on the reception room chair. The first-floor reception room of the Aoba residence. 10 a.m. Light streamed through the window, softly illuminating the white walls. In the courtyard, a weeping cherry tree swayed quietly. It was a beautiful room. But right now, she had no room to appreciate it. Standing before her was a single woman. Sonoda Chizuru. Sixty-two years old. Raised as the daughter of a former aristocratic family, she now taught etiquette to the upper classes. Her white hair was pulled back neatly, her thin lips pressed firmly together. The way she looked at Saira was exactly like an examiner's. "Again, then. When you stand, keep your body's axis steady," Saira slowly rose as instructed. "No. Your knees moved first. You need to be conscious of rising from your upper body," "Y-yes..." Again. Wrong again. Again. Corrected again. Two hours of this. How to walk. How to sit. Word choice. Everything, everything—she'd been told "that's wrong" over and over. "Your gait screams commoner. You land heel-first, toes turned inward. It's entirely unbecoming of the wife of the Aoba family," Those words stabbed right through her. (Screams commoner...) She knew it. She was just an ordinary office worker from Kawasaki. She'd never been a wealthy family's wife. But hearing it stated so bluntly—it hurt. Saira bit her lip. She held back the tears that threatened to spill. Sonoda glanced at Saira's expression, then continued coldly. "If there's no improvement by next time, I will report this to the Chairman. That concludes today's session," With only that, Sonoda left the room. The door closed with a soft click. Saira sank onto the sofa. Slowly, as if all her strength was draining away. (I really am hopeless...) She looked down at her knees. The correct way to close them—she'd practiced it over and over just moments ago. But whether it was "correct" anymore, she couldn't judge for herself. Everything felt wrong. Then her smartphone vibrated. A message from Renya. "2 p.m. Come to the Chairman's office on the 42nd floor of Aoba Tower. Preparation for your social debut. I'll arrange a car." A short message. Still in his commanding tone. But seeing it, Saira felt oddly relieved. (Social debut...) She'd heard a little about the Hakuto Society's summer night party from Seo Tsugumi. It was a gathering of the upper classes, and the Aoba family attended every year. She would be going there as "Renya's wife." Just thinking about it terrified her. But there was no running away. Saira stood up. This time, she was conscious of keeping her back straight. --- 2 p.m. Toranomon. Aoba Tower was more impressive than she'd imagined. A massive 42-story building. The headquarters of Silverstone Group. It took about fifteen minutes by car from the Aoba residence, but the moment Saira stood in front of the building, she couldn't help but look up. It pierced the sky. The entrance lobby had a ceiling twelve meters high. It was vast, filled with light, and just stepping inside made her feel small. The aroma of coffee drifted from the first-floor café "Tomyouan." Businessmen in suits hurried past, looking busy. She was guided to the private elevator. The secretary didn't need to press a button—she simply held up an IC card, and the doors opened silently. 42nd floor. The elevator stopped, the doors opened, and the air changed. It was quiet. Distinctly quiet. The noise from outside felt like something happening far below. She passed through the first secretary's office and stood before the door to the Chairman's executive office. The secretary knocked. "Come in." A low voice. Renya. The door opened. In a space of roughly 120 square meters, heavy furniture was arranged. A large window overlooking Tokyo Bay. The city spread out like particles of light. The Tokyo visible from here was the same place Saira walked through every day, and yet it felt like an entirely different planet. Renya sat at his desk. Black suit, white shirt. Jet-black hair fell slightly across his forehead. He looked up from his documents and met her gaze. "Sit," "Ah, y-yes..." She lowered herself onto the sofa across from him. The leather was soft, and she sank into it. She found herself thinking absurdly about how much something like this must cost. "Next month, the Hakuto Society is hosting a summer night party. I'll introduce you there as my wife," The Hakuto Society—a social salon where the daughters and sons of major zaibatsu families gathered. The largest upper-class event of the year. About 300 attendees. "The dress, accessories, and hair and makeup are all arranged. I'll inform you of the details closer to the date," "Um... excuse me," Saira spoke softly. "Do you think I'll be able to do this properly? Today, the etiquette instructor pointed out so many things..." Even as she said it, she felt pathetic. Voicing doubts like this was weakness. But she couldn't help it. Renya was about to say something when— The door was knocked. "Renya-sama, pardon the intrusion." No one had been waiting. No one had called. Yet the door opened. Deep crimson long hair swayed in gentle waves. Ruby-colored eyes sparkled brilliantly. A diamond earring on her right ear caught the light and gleamed. Aoba Misaki entered with a smile, dressed in an elegant white one-piece. "I'd like to join you, if I may. I want to support Saira-san," That smile was perfect. Refined, kind-seeming, the kind of face anyone would believe just by looking. But her eyes weren't smiling. Saira noticed immediately. Renya said nothing. His silence wasn't permission, Saira thought. But Misaki was already settling onto the sofa beside Renya. Deliberately. Clearly deliberately. The distance between her and Renya was barely twenty centimeters. Their shoulders were almost touching. "Renya-sama, do you remember?" Misaki gently placed her hand on Renya's arm. Her fingertips, feigning a natural gesture, brushed against his sleeve. "When I first attended the night party, you escorted me, didn't you? I was so nervous that night, I almost stepped on my dress hem... and you quietly supported me," Renya didn't answer. His expression didn't change. But Misaki continued. Her voice was sweet, endlessly smooth. "Renya-sama and I have been together since childhood. There are so many memories you don't understand, Saira-san," That sentence shifted the air in the room. Saira remained seated on the opposite sofa, unable to move. (Together since childhood...) It was true. Misaki was the daughter of a branch family of the Aoba house, and she'd been at Renya's side since early childhood. They shared memories. They had memories of the night party. Misaki knew a side of Renya that Saira didn't. Deep in her chest, a dull ache began. (Am I... jealous? Me?) It was absurd. This was a contract marriage. A relationship that would end in three years. So why did her chest hurt like this? "Misaki, you're in the way of my work," Renya spoke in a low voice. A cold, emotionless statement. But Misaki pretended not to hear. She kept her gaze on Renya, about to continue with another memory. Then the secretary entered with a tray. Three coffees. White cups trembled slightly on their saucers. The secretary set down the tray. Misaki picked up one cup and offered it to Saira. "Here, Saira-san," Still smiling. Her hand— Slipped. Splash. Hot coffee spattered across Saira's white one-piece. The brown liquid spread. The stain seeped slowly into the white fabric. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" An exaggerated voice. Both hands to her mouth, feigning surprise. But her eyes were laughing. Just barely, but definitely laughing. Saira stood up. The dress was hot. She tried to wipe it away frantically, but the stain only spread. Then— "Misaki." The temperature in the room dropped. Renya's voice. But different from before. Before it was "cold," but now it was "anger." A low, slow voice with unmistakable fury burning beneath it. "Leave. Now," Misaki's smile froze for just a moment. Confusion and wariness flashed through her ruby eyes. Still, she tried to compose herself and speak. "But Renya-sama, this was truly just carelessness—" "Leave," He didn't repeat himself. One word. That was enough. Misaki stood. She composed her expression, but her feet moved quickly as she left the room. The door closed behind her with a soft sound. Silence fell. Renya called the secretary on the intercom. "Prepare a change of clothes immediately," A brief instruction. Then he turned toward Saira. "It's fine, I was careless—" She started to say. But Renya's gaze came straight at her, and her words stopped. "That was Misaki's harassment," A statement. Not "probably" or "maybe." "You don't need to apologize," Saira couldn't say anything. After a while, the secretary returned with a new one-piece. It fit perfectly. Either Renya had determined her size at some point, or the secretary had intuited it. After changing and returning, Renya was still there. "Misaki will likely continue with harassment," He said it quietly. "But I won't allow it," When Saira heard those words, something moved inside her chest. (Why...) (Why would he...) "Why would you..." She realized she'd spoken aloud. A small whisper. Renya turned toward her. For just a moment, something passed across his usually emotionless face. "It's part of the contract," A matter-of-fact tone. "My wife will not be hurt by anyone, regardless of who they are," With that, he returned to his desk. His gaze fell to the documents. The conversation was over. But Saira kept staring at his profile for a while. "It's part of the contract." That one phrase should have been cold. And yet, her chest ached. The anger he'd shown Misaki was real. There was no hesitation in it. Even if the reason Renya had gotten angry was "because of the contract"—there was definitely a desire to protect her in it. She understood that. She understood it clearly. (I can't interpret this conveniently.) In the car on the way back, Saira gazed out the window. The high-rise buildings of Toranomon receded into the distance. The evening light painted the city orange. Renya's profile. That anger when he saw the coffee. The words "I won't allow it." They spun around in her head. (The contract, huh...) Even as she thought that, something warm remained in Saira's chest. It wouldn't fade. She couldn't brush it away. The car began climbing the slope toward Shirokanedai. The gates of the Aoba residence came into view. Saira gently placed her hand over her heart. It was still racing.