The wind brushed coldly against Shiori's fingers. The iron chill of the railing was the only thin thread connecting her to this world now. Below, the Tokyo cityscape glittered as if nothing had happened. (*I—*) Her mind was completely blank. The envelope she'd been clutching just moments ago was already dancing on the wind, far beyond her reach. The one and only clue that could prove her father's innocence. Right before her eyes was Jinguji Mirei's face. Her jet-black hair billowed in the wind, and her crimson eyes—long and narrow like a cat's—smiled with a coldness that could freeze solid. "[whispers]Kagami-san, this might hurt just a little. But it will be over soon." Mirei's pale fingers seized Shiori's wrist. A grip like a vise. One by one, Shiori's fingers were pried from the railing. (*No—*) Her voice wouldn't come. Terror had stoppered her throat, damming up every word. "[whispers]I'll be taking Reima for myself. In a world without you." Mirei pulled her arm back—and in that instant— *BANG!!* Heavy as a gunshot, the sound of the emergency door slamming open echoed across the rooftop. "That's enough." A low voice, as if rumbling up from the depths of the earth. Reima strode straight toward them. The hem of his long coat billowed in the wind. In those blue eyes was something utterly unlike his usual cold detachment—raw, exposed fury, and... a faint trace of panic. He seized Mirei's arm and wrenched it upward. "Kyaa—!" Mirei's slender frame stumbled backward. The strength drained from Shiori's body. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground. The coldness of the concrete against her cheek was proof that she was still alive. "Are you all right?" Before she knew it, Reima was crouched right beside her. He cupped her face in both hands and stared straight into her eyes. Those eyes—were trembling. (*This man... making a face like that...*) Tears spilled from Shiori's eyes, one after another. She couldn't stop them. Terror, relief, and emotions she couldn't name all swirled together and turned into sobs. Reima bit his lip for just a moment, then rose to his feet. In one fluid, almost bestial motion, he turned back toward Mirei. "[cold]How long do you think I've been here?" His voice was freezing cold. "[cold]From the moment you called Shiori up to this rooftop—I've heard everything." A white scrap of paper, scattered by the wind, drifted down at Reima's feet. He bent down and picked it up. His expression froze. It was a handwritten letter from her father, Kyoichiro. *"Kagami-kun, I trust you—"* Reima stared at the words on the hastily folded stationery, breath caught in his throat. Then he picked up another scrap. Mirei's elegant handwriting—traces of altered figures hastily scribbled onto internal documents. "[whispers]You... all of it..." Reima's voice was hoarse. He slowly turned back to face Mirei. He clenched the paper scraps in his hand until his fingers went white. "[angry]You orchestrated everything. Kagami Seiichiro's embezzlement—it was all your fabrication, wasn't it?" Mirei—smiled. It wasn't the cold smile from before. It was a thin, fragile smile, teetering on the edge between resignation and madness. "[gentle]Yes, that's right." Mirei's voice was astonishingly calm. "[gentle]I made them. The forged documents, the evidence of embezzlement—all of it. After all—Kagami-san was in my way." Mirei took a step forward. She reached her slender fingers toward Reima's chest. "[whispers]Your father trusted Kagami-san too much. If things had continued, the bond between the Saionji Group and the Kagami family would have become unshakable. And if that happened—you would drift even further away from me." Her jet-black eyes fixed solely on Reima. "[whispers]Reima. I have always loved you. When that political marriage arrangement fell through, I made my decision. Even if I had to eliminate the obstacles, I would make you mine." "[cold]So you destroyed an innocent man." "[sarcastic]Innocent? That man had earned your father's trust. That alone is crime enough." Mirei's voice trembled for the first time. "[angry]If only you hadn't set your eyes on someone like her, everything would have gone perfectly!" Her hate-filled gaze turned toward Shiori, still collapsed on the ground. Reima stepped forward, shielding Shiori with his body. Mirei's expression crumbled for the first time. The face of the perfect, bewitching beauty drained of color. Her red lips parted slightly, as if she'd lost the words. "[whispers]...So you can make a face like that, too." Reima didn't answer. Instead, he pulled a small silver device from his breast pocket. A recorder—its red light blinking steadily. "[cold]I've recorded everything. Todo." As if summoned by Reima's voice, his secretary Todo emerged from the shadows of the emergency stairs. Expressionless, she held her tablet out toward Mirei. "The police have already been contacted. Jinguji-sama, we ask for your cooperation for the time being." The expression vanished from Mirei's face. The smile, the anger, the madness—everything drained away, leaving only a quiet stillness. "[gentle]I see." With just that single murmur, Mirei was led away by Todo and disappeared into the emergency stairwell. Without looking back even once, just quietly. Reima and Shiori were left alone on the rooftop. The Tokyo nightscape quietly enveloped them. The window lights of distant buildings twinkled like stars. "...I'm sorry." It was a low voice. When Shiori lifted her head, Reima—was on his knees. The knees of his suit touched the cold concrete. This man, who had always been so domineering, who had only ever looked down on his employees, was now looking up at her. "[sad]I... was wrong." Reima's voice trembled. This was the first time she'd ever heard it like this. "[sad]I didn't believe in your father. I tried to use you as a tool. By day I hurt you, by night I bound you. And still—still, by hurting you, I was trying to prove my own righteousness." His blue eyes twisted with anguish. "[sad]The culprit who killed my father was just my own assumption—my father and your father were bound by genuine trust. I simply refused to see it." Reima extended a trembling hand. "[sad]So—I'll accept whatever you say. Curse me. Hit me. But—" His fingertips stopped, just barely touching or not touching Shiori's hand. "[crying]I love you. I want to protect only you." Shiori couldn't move. In her head, everything swirled—her father's unfulfilled wishes. The days of abuse. The beautiful lies. The torn clothes. The cold voice. That night's pain and pleasure— All of it, a maelstrom. But— Even so, this man, kneeling before her now. She couldn't hate him. "...I, too." Her voice was wrecked with tears. Even so, she tried to smile. "[crying]I, too, all along—I loved you." Shiori's hand touched Reima's. Reima lifted his head. His blue eyes widened as if he were seeing something he couldn't believe. "[surprised]You—" Instead of answering, Shiori stepped forward. She grasped Reima's shoulders with both hands and looked down at him, still on his knees. "[crying]I tried to hate you. So many times. But even so, I couldn't help loving you. I—I don't even understand why myself." Tears fell onto the shoulders of Reima's suit. Reima rose to his feet. Then, as if handling something fragile, he gently pulled Shiori to his chest. "...I'm sorry." The same words, whispered by her ear. "Even so, I can't let you go. I won't ask for forgiveness—but just once more, will you give me a chance?" Instead of answering, Shiori buried her face in Reima's chest. Quietly, gently, Reima's lips met Shiori's. It wasn't like the devouring kisses from before. Not domination, not conquest. As if apologizing for the wounds he'd inflicted, as if cherishing her—just a kiss of simple contact. A long, long silence followed. Only the Tokyo nightscape quietly twinkled around them. --- The lights came on softly in the Van Vert suite, "Gekka." Outside the window, Tokyo Tower stood as always. Inside the room, only the gentle indirect lighting cast their shadows against the wall. Reima stopped at the entrance and looked straight into Shiori's face. "[gentle]Tell me if you don't want this. If you say so, we'll end it here for tonight." The same words as always. And yet—tonight, they were different. He was leaving the choice to her. That was a first. Shiori said nothing, just shook her head slowly. Reima's hand, trembling, touched Shiori's hair. He slipped his fingers gently behind her ear and pressed his lips to her temple. "[gentle]I can't believe you're real." His voice sounded almost like he was crying. Reima's lips traced the nape of her neck. His hot breath fell into the hollow of her collarbone. His hands, always so rough before, were cautious tonight, hesitant, as if touching her for the very first time. With trembling fingers, Shiori touched the buttons of Reima's shirt. She undid the top button. The second. The third. "[surprised]You're..." Reima's voice shook with surprise. Shiori lifted her face and looked straight into Reima's eyes. "[gentle]Is it all right... if I want you, too?" At those words, Reima's expression melted. His ice-blue eyes narrowed with unbelievable softness. A gentle smile—the first she'd ever seen—rose to his lips. "[gentle]Yeah. Want me." The two of them slowly sank onto the bed. Reima's hands, as careful as if turning the pages of a bible, unfastened the buttons of Shiori's blouse one by one. Her collarbone, her shoulders, the valley of her breasts—as each was revealed, his lips descended upon it as if to confirm its existence. The hook of her bra came undone. Reima's large hands gently cupped Shiori's breasts. His thumb traced the peaks, and a small sigh escaped Shiori's lips. "Ah..." Reima's lips traced the swell of her breast and took her nipple into his mouth. Each time his tongue rolled over it and gently sucked, a sweet shiver ran down her spine. "Let me hear your voice." Those words were gentle. Not the usual command. Just a wish. Shiori let her voice escape, unresisting. "...Nn." Reima's fingers slipped under her skirt and gently stroked up the inside of her thigh. The heat she felt through her stockings made her hips move on their own. Over her panties, the pad of his finger traced along her already hot and wet slit. At the pressure felt through the fabric, a string of longing sounds continued from Shiori's mouth. "Ah, n-no... aaah!" "Beautiful." Simultaneous with his whisper, her panties were pulled from her legs. Reima shed his own clothes, freeing his already rigidly erect penis. Clear pre-cum glistened at the tip. He gently parted Shiori's legs and buried his face at her center. "Hyaa—!" A warm, wet tongue captured her sensitively engorged clitoris. As it was thickly licked up and sucked upon, Shiori gripped the sheets. From that embarrassingly wet place, a squelching sound echoed. "No, that sound..." "Don't worry about it. Let me hear more." His tongue probed the entrance of her vagina, lapping up her hot nectar as if scooping it out. Her hips lifted, and her voice became unstoppable. "Ah, aaah, no, I'm going to—" The moment she felt her climax approaching, Reima's fingers gently slipped inside her vagina. They moved as if exploring her depths, pressing up against the entrance of her womb. "Aaaaaah—!!" Her vision burst into pure white. Her vagina clenched tightly around Reima's fingers. Her whole body convulsed in spasms. Reima gently lifted the dazed Shiori, still in the afterglow of her climax. He sat her up facing him and pressed his penis against her soaking wet entrance. At the sensation of the glans touching her twitching opening, Shiori's body gave a small jolt. "Do you want to put it in yourself?" At Reima's question, Shiori gave a small nod. With trembling hands, she supported his hot, hard penis. S