Steam still clings to her skin as Yuna steps out of the bathroom. She wears an emerald silk nightdress and a matching robe, her damp hair loose down her back. For a fleeting moment, the tension of the day lifts.
"You're back," Ryusei says, closing his laptop and placing it beside him. He leans against the headboard, eyes sharp and unreadable.
"Yeah."
She sits at the vanity and brushes her hair. Staring at her reflection, she tries to steady her breath, gripping the brush tighter as quiet unease creeps into her chest.
"He still walks you home often?" he asks.
"Sometimes. I just… haven't felt comfortable taking taxis lately."
Ryusei used to drive her home after work, but lately, his schedule has been too demanding. She understands. Truly she does. But every time Hiroki comes up, Ryusei's reaction shifts—subtly, yet unmistakably.
Her gaze falls to the vanity table. Her lips tremble slightly—she's bitten them raw again. The growing distance between them chips at her heart bit by bit. Longing once filled that space; now it's mostly fear. Fear of what he might be thinking. Fear of what she herself is thinking.
A swell of silent despair overtakes her.
Without thinking, she turns and cups his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his. It's a soft kiss at first—slow, tender—but it burns with quiet desperation. When he responds, it's hesitant, delayed, but real. His hand travels to her lower back, brushing down her spine and gripping the silk at her waist.
She moves closer, kneeling on the bed, fingertips stroking his cheek. As she leans in to deepen the kiss, Ryusei suddenly pulls away. Still clutching her dress, he leans back, breathing shallow and warm.
"Ryusei…?" she whispers, stroking his face with her thumb, confused by the shift.
"Ryusei…?" she repeats, voice cracking.
"Don't." He says it flatly, interrupting her. His tone is devoid of emotion.
He gently takes her hands from his face and lowers them. Their eyes lock in a messy collision of emotions. He looks at her for a long moment—as if trying to memorize her. Then his gaze drops to her lips, still marked with the intensity of their kiss.
He kisses her again—softly, slowly—tongue tracing the outline of her mouth, pulling gently at her lips.
Yuna blinks in stunned silence as he pulls away only seconds later.
Was that it? Was that really all there is?
She tries to hide her disappointment, but he sees it. He turns away, and for a fleeting moment, something like faint sympathy crosses his face. Still, he won't let her in. Even after all this time. Or... is it because she, too, hasn't opened up to him?
Is one honest sentence between them really too much to ask?
But it's already too late.
Ryusei lies down on his side of the bed, closing his eyes. He looks exhausted.
Yuna follows, pulling the blanket over herself. She wants to bury her face into the mattress and cry. Shame and regret slice through her chest like a thousand knives. The wound she carries doesn't heal—it only deepens.
No matter how close she lies to him now, it feels like an entire world stands between them. Even if that world is just the space of one outstretched hand.
That night is restless for Yuna. Her mind churns with questions, uncertainties, and thoughts so dense they form a storm cloud, casting a heavy shadow over her peace.
The room grows so quiet that she still hears the steady rhythm of her own heartbeat. Ryusei's breathing slows—she's relieved he falls asleep first. At least she can face the chaos in her heart alone.
Across the room, his laptop rests on a small wooden desk, directly in her line of sight. The screen doesn't fully go dark; a faint glow leaks through the barely closed lid. Since he is fast asleep, Yuna gives in to her reckless impulse.
Carefully, she shifts—one hand braces against the mattress while the other reaches for the laptop. The screen lights up the dim corner of the room, and she quickly dims the brightness to the lowest setting.
An Excel file from earlier that night remains open. A sea of numbers and rows flash before her eyes, most making little sense to her.
She scrolls up slowly, until bold text appears at the top:
"FINANCIAL REPORT – SHINSEI Servc"
Created two months ago.
Curiosity overtakes her completely. Yuna knows she shouldn't be doing this. She knows she's crossing a line—violating Ryusei's privacy. But she doesn't want to remain on the outside anymore. She wants to understand something—anything—that might help her reach him.
Her eyes scan the numbers, trying to make sense of them.
Year: 2XX1 2XX2
Revenue: 1,000,000,000¥ 800,000,000¥
Total Liabilities: 800,000,000¥ 950,000,000¥
Retained Earnings: 150,000,000¥ 330,000,000¥
Pre,tax Profit: 0¥ 170,000,000¥
…
She doesn't know much about SHINSEI Servc, the company Ryusei works for—only that it's his father's, and he once confided to her that he's up for a promotion and expecting to be well taken care of. More than anyone, Yuna knows how hard he has worked for years—not just for himself, but for her, for the future they hoped to build.
But clearly, Ryusei is struggling. And he hasn't said a word about it.
Night deepens. Fatigue settles in. She turns to look at him—her husband, still asleep beside her, chest rising gently with each slow breath.
She doesn't close the file. Instead, she puts the laptop into sleep mode and folds it shut.
Yuna has no way of knowing that this report, and the numbers within it, will one day upend her entire life.
….
As usual, Yuna is the last to leave the office. Earlier, Ririka stays behind to chat with her for a while.
The more time Yuna spends with this younger colleague, the more fondness she feels toward her. She finds herself wanting to help Ririka in any way she can. She's not sure she has what it takes to play Cupid—arrow and all—to bring Hiroki and Ririka together, but this isn't her first attempt at matchmaking for him.
The last "lucky woman" is none other than their former team leader, Hayame Irumi. But sadly, that ship never makes it to shore. Still, Yuna never gives up. No matter how much Hiroki avoids it, no matter how tightly he shuts himself off, she waits for moments of vulnerability, hoping to gently push him toward Irumi. But all her efforts come to nothing when Hayame suddenly leaves the company six months ago. Hiroki remains the same—frozen and distant like a block of eternal ice.
Then, like fate nudging her shoulder, Takano's voice rings out earlier that day:
"Ririka-san says she'll come to Shin's birthday party. What do you think?"
That's all Yuna needs to hear—her brain sparks into action.
Of course. If Ririka is going, she'll absolutely want Hiroki to be there too. And honestly, Yuna is determined to drag him back out into the world. Life without connection, without people, is a lonely one.
That settles it.
Whether it's during late-night train rides or stolen moments at the office, Yuna takes every opportunity to pester Hiroki—through texts, or simply by showing up. For several days in a row, she keeps urging him to come to Takano's party. The more he resists, the more determined she becomes. Classic Ikeda Yuna behavior.
Even during casual conversations, she sneaks in lines designed to wear him down:
"Hey, Hiroki, come to Takano's place with me this weekend!"
"Hiroki, don't say no. I already told everyone you'd be there."
"Please say yes. I promise it'll be fun."
"Hiroki, people are really looking forward to seeing you."
"Hiroki… Hiroki… Hiroki…"
Sure, Yuna occasionally questions if she's overstepping, and Hiroki never does well in social settings—but as his friend, she's not about to let him isolate himself forever. Besides, she knows him well enough to recognize that his reluctance won't last forever. Sooner or later, he'll give in.
Ririka, for her part, is thrilled to hear that Yuna is trying to convince Hiroki to come. She spends the whole week chirping about what outfit she should wear to make Hiroki-senpai notice her. But truth be told, after a whole week working together, the two still haven't made any progress.
Takano and her husband reportedly go all out for their little boy's birthday. The party will be held at their house, and rumor has it the Takano family comes from serious money. Her husband is a wildly successful businessman—someone who gladly spends a small fortune to celebrate their son turning five.
Yuna feels a little bubble of excitement rise in her chest. After all, it's already Tuesday. That means just four more days...
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