The Woman in Red
The customer who walked in was strikingly beautiful—easily in her early thirties.
She wore a deep crimson tailored blazer over sleek black trousers, a Patek Philippe women's watch glinting on her wrist. Every step she took radiated confidence, her aura unmistakably refined.
Her short hair framed her face elegantly, and just beneath her right eye, in the perfect spot, was a beauty mark shaped like a teardrop. It gave her an allure that was both mature and captivating.
To Minamoto Senya's eyes, this was the kind of woman who could sit at the same table as Yukinoshita's mother—one of those flawless beauties who could make most men fall hopelessly at her feet.
He found himself momentarily distracted, staring.
It wasn't her beauty that threw him off balance—though she certainly had plenty of that.
No, it was the black exclamation mark bouncing above her head that drew his attention.
"Hey, handsome boy? Are you even listening to me?" The woman waved her hand.
Snapping back to himself, Senya replied quickly,"Ah, sorry. My mother's dealing with some things right now, so the shop won't be open for a while."
The woman studied him with interest."You're Junko's son, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Hmm."
"Uh… may I ask who you are?"
"Just a regular customer, I suppose. But if the manager isn't here, then I'll just go."
She toyed idly with the ends of her hair and turned to leave.
Watching his chance to grow stronger walk away, Senya's instincts kicked in. He couldn't let it end here.
"If you don't mind, miss, I could help you instead!"
The woman stopped in her tracks. Her lips curled into a playful smile."Oh? And you know how to do makeup, handsome boy?"
Makeup… that, Senya definitely couldn't do. But making women happy? That, he had mastered.
"Makeup's only ever an accessory," he said smoothly. "With how beautiful you already are, you really don't need it."
As expected, she burst out laughing."My daughter's about your age, you know. I'm basically in the same generation as your mother. And yet you still call me 'miss.'"
"Really? No way!"
His surprised reaction was a perfect mix of truth and pretense, and it came off completely genuine.
Her laughter deepened. No woman disliked being told she looked young—especially not by a boy in his teens.
"I just came back from abroad. I have a date later tonight. Can you at least wash my hair and dry it for me?"
Senya nodded without hesitation."Of course. Please sit for a moment—I'll get everything ready."
She smiled and settled onto the sofa, flipping through a magazine.
Originally, she had planned to get a facial and manicure. But looking at the boy, she guessed he didn't know how to handle that, and she wasn't about to press him.
It was strange, though. A moment ago, she had been ready to leave for another shop. But when this boy spoke up to stop her, she'd found herself staying without quite knowing why.
Senya, for his part, had seen Junko work in the shop before, so even though he was nervous, he didn't flounder.
First, he brewed her a cup of tea. Then he turned on the soft background music and set the aroma diffuser going. After fiddling with the water heater until he got it right, he invited her to recline on the shampoo chair.
She adjusted the settings herself, activating the massage function like someone well-acquainted with the place. A true regular.
Senya draped a towel around her neck and gently worked his fingers through her hair.
"Is the pressure okay, miss?"
"Mmm, perfect. Very relaxing. Do you do this for your mother too?"
She seemed quite chatty, which was ideal for Senya. The more she talked, the easier it would be to learn about her.
After a little small talk, he shifted the topic."You're so beautiful, and you look a bit familiar… are you by any chance in the entertainment industry?"
She chuckled softly, eyes still closed."The entertainment industry, huh? I did dream about that as a child. But reality is cruel. I didn't have the talent for it. I'm just an ordinary pianist who makes a living performing."
Her words stirred a faint memory in Senya. A few nights ago, when Eriri had been staying over, Toka had left the TV on a news channel. He remembered seeing a short report—barely a minute—about this woman.
If his memory was right…
"You're… Tōma Youko, aren't you?"
She opened one eye, amused."Oh? You know me?"
"You're kidding, right? You're famous! Congratulations on winning the Chopin International Piano Competition gold medal the other week!"
Now that he knew her name and her background, the black exclamation mark above her head made sense.
And if she really did have a daughter his age…
This was Tōma Youko, from White Album 2. Which meant… she hadn't yet discovered the illness that would later change her life.
The exact disease escaped Senya's memory, but he knew enough. If she got checked early, she might avoid that fate.
The problem was—how to warn her?
He couldn't just blurt out, You're sick, go to the hospital! She'd think he was insane, if not insulted.
As he was mulling over how to do it, Youko asked about Junko.
Senya's eyes lit up. He had an idea.
"My mom's fine," he said carefully. "But my father's in the hospital. Mom's been with him nonstop. Honestly, it was a blessing we got him there so quickly. With treatment right away, he's expected to recover fully."
"Ah… then it was misfortune, but also fortune, wasn't it?"
Senya's words were vague, but to Youko, they suggested something different: that his father had been diagnosed with a potentially serious condition, caught in its early stages and treated before it became life-threatening.
"That's right," Senya nodded. "We all agreed afterwards—our family will do full check-ups every year from now on. Because nothing is more important than health.
"If someone falls ill with something incurable, the suffering isn't theirs alone. Their family suffers with them—sometimes even more deeply.
"Someone like you, Tōma-san, with all your talent and brilliance… your future will only shine brighter. That's why I sincerely hope you'll take care of your health. After all, you already have fame and fortune—the only thing left to protect is your well-being."
He knew he might be overstepping. His words were well-meaning, but he could tell from her silence that she was slightly unsettled.
To her ears, it almost sounded as if this boy were hinting that she already had some hidden illness. Hardly a polite way to talk to a customer.
But then she remembered—he was just a kid, whose father had recently been hospitalized. His emotions must have been on a roller coaster. His words were clumsy, but his concern was genuine.
So she let it slide.
Senya wisely dropped the subject and, after finishing her blow-dry, gave her a light shoulder massage at her request.
When she finally stood to leave, Senya suddenly asked,"Tōma-san… did you come here alone tonight?"
She blinked, puzzled."Yes. Why?"
"No real reason," he said with just the right touch of concern. "It's just… ever since you came in, I noticed two men across the street in the café watching you. They haven't taken their eyes off this place. I think they might be here for you."
He even described their clothes and features in detail, his face etched with convincing worry.
Youko gave him a long, searching look before smiling faintly."Probably just nosy reporters. But thank you—I'll be careful."
"Of course. Safe travels."
She walked out, crossing the pedestrian bridge to the other side of the street.
Halfway across, she paused, leaning against the railing to glance back.
Senya had already locked up and was walking toward the train station.
She stood there, watching until he disappeared from view. Then she turned and walked straight into the café he'd mentioned, seating herself across from the two men he had described.
"Boss, you're back," one of them greeted.
Youko only nodded.
She gazed out the window at the street beyond. Her subordinates followed her gaze but saw nothing unusual.
"Can you make out the features of people that far away?" she asked suddenly.
Both men shook their heads.
Neither could she. The road was six lanes wide, with a planted divider in the middle. Even in daylight, it would have been difficult. At night, it was nearly impossible.
And yet that boy had described the men so clearly.
So… was it really just exceptional eyesight and keen observation?
That seemed the only possible explanation.
The next evening, after returning from a gala, Tōma Youko sank into her sofa.
From the practice room, where the door was ajar, came the sound of her daughter's piano playing—dreamlike, beautiful, almost ethereal.
She closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her.
Bzzz, bzzz.
Her phone vibrated with a message from her assistant, updating her upcoming schedule.
One item caught her eye: Routine Health Check.
Suddenly, the boy's voice from the night before echoed in her head:
"If someone falls ill with something incurable, the suffering isn't theirs alone. Their family suffers with them—sometimes even more deeply."
Family…
For her daughter Kazusa, she was the only family left.
Shaking off the haze of alcohol, she pressed a number on her phone.
"This is Youko."
"Yes, President?"
"Change next week's appointment. I want the most detailed, full-body examination possible. And schedule it for both me and Kazusa."
"…Understood."