Karuizawa Kei had kept the lights on the entire time. She lay in bed, desperately reminding herself that this was the room Kitagawa Ryo had just slept in, that the blanket covering her was the very one he had used, and that Kitagawa Ryo himself was right next door, separated by only a thin wall.
But none of it worked. For a single person, the room felt vast—so vast it was like an open wilderness, as if unknown beasts might crawl out from beneath the bed or slither through the cracks in the drawers. Kei clutched the blanket so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Outside, the rain had stopped. She lifted her head and looked out the window at the moon barely peeking through the clouds. Her heart felt as overcast and heavy as the night sky.
She found herself thinking again of that time in childhood when the teacher had asked them one by one what they wanted to be when they grew up—what kind of person they dreamed of becoming. Even now, Kei was the same as she had been then: unable to answer. She had always been just an ordinary girl without any special talent. Dreams were too distant, too lofty for someone like her—like the moon in the sky.
If she really had to choose a profession, Kei would probably answer: "a bride."
Her hand brushed her lips. After the medication, the pain was barely noticeable unless she touched it. But now, she did it on purpose—she even licked the wound, deliberately aggravating it. The sharp pain ran straight to her brain. Leaning on one arm, Kei thought about how, at that moment when she kissed him, she hadn't even noticed the sting of pain.
No matter how it had happened, she and Kitagawa Ryo had shared their first kiss. Even if it was done in a way that bordered on manipulative.
"There was no other way. I've always loved Ryo..."
Just being by his side gave her the strength to keep living. It allowed her to feel normal again. No longer a victim, no longer a bully. From the beginning, Kei believed she was meant to become Ryo's bride...
Suddenly, her phone buzzed.
She instinctively assumed it was a message from Ryo and hurried to check. Ever since his return, she had deleted everyone else from her friends list, leaving only Kitagawa Ryo's name.
But it was a friend request notification.
Kei narrowed her eyes at the profile picture—
"Ryo."
It was Ryo, making a heart gesture with his hands.
Kei hesitated for a moment, then accepted. The moment she approved the request, the user named "Shiina Hiyori" appeared in her friend list, right below Kitagawa Ryo.
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Shiina Hiyori had managed to track down Karuizawa Kei's social media account after Kitagawa Ryo, in a moment of emotional vulnerability, spoke to her about Kei. Kitagawa himself hadn't noticed that Shiina, ever the attentive observer, had quietly remembered this detail and begun her investigation. After a period of elimination and careful comparison, Shiina finally confirmed Kei's account and sent a friend request.
While Tokyo was immersed in the deep hours of midnight, it was 12:30 PM in London. Shiina hadn't expected her request to be accepted so quickly at such a late hour, and she blinked in surprise before composing and sending her first message:
"Do you really love Kitagawa... Ryo?"
For some reason, she had added a strange ellipsis between his surname and given name.
There was no introduction. No pleasantries. Her question was direct—perhaps even too direct. A slight trace of irritation she hadn't realized she was harboring seeped into her words.
But there was no response. Though the message showed as "read," nothing came back. Even as the London sun dipped beyond the horizon, that single message was all that existed between them:
[Do you really love Kitagawa... Ryo?]
Kei's first impression was of the little trick hidden in that simple question. This girl—Shiina Hiyori—had likely intended to refer to him simply as "Kitagawa," but she added that ellipsis. Meaning: what she truly wanted to say was the name following it—"Ryo."
Kei intended to reply. She really did. But her eyes wouldn't move from the message. It felt like the words had some kind of spell on them, holding her frozen, as though a guillotine had been raised in front of her, waiting for her to step forward.
"Tch."
The voice of Horikita Suzune echoed again in her mind—the scathing criticism from that morning:
You're a girl with no real value.
Aside from memories accumulated over time, you have nothing worth Kitagawa's effort.
The words buzzed in her ears like irritating flies.
'Of course she loves Kitagawa Ryo. They've known each other for years—longer than either of us have.'
But doubt still clawed at Kei's mind.
'Is it really love... or is it just survival instinct?'
'Saying it's love sounds better than admitting you're clinging to him like a parasite, doesn't it? It gives you a thread of hope in your grey, meaningless life.'
'Childhood friends don't always fall in love. Sometimes that familiarity dulls affection.'
The deeper she probed, the more questions she unearthed. Answering any of them would mean unraveling the foundation of her own life.
'You just want someone who'll protect you.'
'You're so useless you can't even protect yourself. You're a girl with zero value.'
'It's dependency, not love.'
Kei closed her eyes. For the first time, she acknowledged her deepest truth:
'I only longed to be the kind of girl who could love freely. Everything I've done so far was just self-preservation. The only one who's ever truly mattered... is myself.'
"Does that include Kitagawa Ryo?"
No more lies. No more dodging.
The answer came instantly.
And when it did, Kei finally smiled—openly, honestly, for the first time. She turned off the light and, speaking softly toward the wall that separated their rooms, murmured:
"Sweet dreams, Ryo."
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"Let's get hyped together! No one's allowed to sleep tonight!"
"Shut your mouth."
Horikita Suzune, frantically working her controller to dodge the on-screen monsters, couldn't help but snap again at her fiancé, who was leisurely sipping soda from a wine glass with one leg crossed.
"If I hadn't let you in tonight, would you have just slept on the street?"
Suzune regretted letting Kitagawa Ryo into her house. Just fifteen minutes later, a whole box containing a monitor and a Switch gaming setup was delivered. She had no idea how Ryo managed to arrange that at 1 a.m. She had only brushed her teeth and taken a quick shower, and by the time she came back out, Ryo was already happily gaming.
"If? The whole point of an 'if' is that it's hypothetical. You might as well face reality, Suzune."
Ryo, whose character had already died, shamelessly pointed at her gameplay.
"Dodge! Roll! Don't be greedy with your attacks!"
"Why am I even playing this with you?"
Seeing the grayscale death screen again, Suzune looked grim. She gritted her teeth.
"This is supposed to be my house."
"You suck."
Ryo swirled his soda like it was wine. If not for the cola inside, he might've actually looked elegant.
"I played this with Manabu recently. He figured out the boss's attack patterns in no time and cleared the level with me."
He sighed dramatically.
"Same Horikita, different results."
"Shut up!"
Suzune's voice rose another two decibels. Her pink pajamas, completely at odds with Ryo's image of her, made her seem adorably contrasting.
"You're revived, right? Catch up already. If you can't survive, at least use fewer potions before dying and toss me some!"
"Roger that."
Ryo refocused and followed her in-game character.
Five minutes later.
"Hehehe…"
Staring at the grayscale screen again, Ryo glanced at the now visibly deranged-looking girl beside him.
"Okay, maybe I went in too early that time, but I think—"
"Kitagawa Ryo."
It was the first time he'd heard Suzune say his full name like that. It felt like she was about to write it into a death note.
"Yes ma'am."
"If you mess up the next life too—"
She glanced at a compass on the table.
"Painful regret, or despairing regret. Which do you prefer?"
"So Suzune has violent tendencies now?"
"I think anyone teaming with you would feel violent urges."
"Fine, I surrender."
Just as Ryo finished speaking, he executed a flawless combo and brought the boss's health to the brink. Suzune panicked:
"Let me finish it!"
"That's exactly the type of line NPCs say right before they get one-shot by a berserk boss…"
Before Ryo could finish, Suzune charged in and got stun-locked by a devastating combo.
"Told you so…"
As she stared at the grayscale screen, Ryo calmly landed the final blow.
"Cleared."
"You look more disappointed than relieved."
He revived her character and nudged her shoulder.
"Come on, next area."
They both moved in silence.
"Suzune, have you never played co-op before?"
"No."
The white game light cast a pale hue on her face.
"Really?"
Ryo asked absentmindedly:
"If I died again just now, what would you have done?"
"Taken your controller, played both characters. Even alternating them would be better than one deadweight."
She added coldly:
"And I hate your attitude—having the ability to help but choosing not to, just to swoop in last minute like a hero."
"But it's just a game, right?"
"Games are competitions too. Clearing them is a cheap thrill of problem-solving. If people treated life the same way, they wouldn't be so quick to quit or slack off. I'd rather go solo than team up with lazy people."
"But what if you can't do it alone?"
Suzune rolled her eyes.
"Stop comparing people to turtles. If you can't do it, get better."
"Only fools ignore their own capabilities."
Ryo nodded.
"But how do you know what someone's capable of? Can you really judge that?"
"Like this game. Someone good can carry a newbie, but in real life, that person might be useless at anything physical."
Suzune argued.
"I trust my judgment."
Ryo stared at her.
"To me, you just judge based on appearances."
He set his controller down.
"For example, Manabu is terrible at this game."
He smiled and almost reached out to pat her head like he did with Kei, then remembered it was Suzune and awkwardly lowered his hand.
"I hope you remember that, even after I'm gone."
Ryo said softly.