The papers were signed.
Ayaka sat on the long velvet couch in silence, the chill of what just happened still sinking into her skin. The ink on the marriage contract was still wet — a silent agreement between two families, witnessed over coffee and cold stares.
She wasn't even allowed to protest.
The car ride had been silent. The kind of silence that wasn't peaceful — it was loud, heavy, like the space between her and Hiro was filled with things they weren't allowed to say.
And now… they stood in the foyer of a mansion-sized modern house, handed over like some twisted gift. A private residence — not too close to their school, but still in the city. Paid for by both families. The rule was simple:
Live together. Learn each other. Keep it all secret.
Ayaka turned her red eyes toward Hiro, still standing near the marble stairs, hands in his suit pockets. His blue eyes scanned the living room—white walls, sleek black furniture, crystal chandeliers, two floors, five bedrooms, and not a single soul inside but the two of them.
She couldn't take it anymore.
"You've got to be kidding me," she said, dropping her bag on the floor.
"Living together? We just met. Don't you think this is completely insane?"
Hiro didn't flinch. He just walked past her, slowly loosening the collar of his suit.
"Think whatever you want," he replied, voice low and smooth.
"I didn't ask for this either. But we follow the script. That's what they want."
She watched him walk toward the kitchen like he owned the place. Like none of this mattered to him.
"You're really that calm about this? You're not even surprised?"
He paused, his hand brushing the edge of the glass table.
"Surprised won't change anything."
Ayaka grit her teeth, frustrated.
His coldness was infuriating—but part of her knew she was just angry because he wasn't reacting the way she wanted. Wasn't showing any cracks.
She stepped closer.
"Listen. This whole 'fake marriage' thing? I'm only doing it because I have no choice. So don't go thinking I'm your wife or something."
Hiro looked at her. For the first time, really looked at her — her white hair glowing under the chandelier light, her red eyes sharp, her expression proud. Her ribbon tied neatly on her back like a final statement: I'm not yours.
He nodded once.
"Fine. You're not my wife."
He walked away again.
"But you are my responsibility. So don't cause problems."
Ayaka's heart skipped at that last word. Responsibility? What was that supposed to mean?
But before she could reply, a buzz echoed from the wall.
> "Please review the rules before your first school day," said a cold automated voice from the smart panel.
RULE 1: Your relationship is confidential.
RULE 2: You must maintain a peaceful domestic image.
RULE 3: No overnight guests.
RULE 4: Surveillance is active.
RULE 5: Neither party is allowed to back out.
Ayaka froze.
Surveillance? Peaceful image?
This isn't a marriage. It's a political cage.
She looked at Hiro again — standing at the window now, staring at the city skyline like he wasn't even there.
She muttered under her breath:
"I hate this. I hate all of this."
But somewhere deep inside…
She couldn't help but wonder:
Who exactly is this cold boy they chose to chain her to?