Yui stood in front of the couch for several seconds, staring at Shoji, who had gone back to snoring. The sunlight brushed over his unbothered face, as if last night had never existed.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she zipped her backpack. The metal charm against her neck pressed coldly into her skin — the only proof she had left that Haruto was real.
Her voice barely left her throat."He was here..."
She swallowed hard, grabbed her things, and stepped out of the apartment.
The hallway was quiet. Too quiet.Every door looked the same, yet somehow different.
When she reached the one next door, she hesitated before knocking.Once. Twice.
The door opened a moment later, revealing Himari, her hair damp as if she had just showered. She smiled politely — that calm, familiar warmth that had soothed Yui just hours ago.
But her eyes…Something behind them felt wrong. Too still. Too measured.
"Yui," Himari said softly. "Up to school?"
Yui's breath caught. "Mrs. Yamada… have you seen Haruto?"
Himari blinked once. "Haruto?"
"Yes," Yui said, her voice trembling. "He was here last night. You came with Mei — you said she saw his car downstairs and—"
"Yui," Himari interrupted gently, her smile not faltering. "Are you sure you're feeling okay? Haruto hasn't been here."
Yui froze. "What do you mean? I—I helped you cook breakfast! You even told me all three of them were light sleepers! You pointed to—"
Himari's smile stayed, but her eyes narrowed subtly. "Three?"
"Yes!" Yui said quickly. "Mei, Shoji, and Haruto! You said they were light sleepers—"
"I think you must have had a strange dream, dear." Himari's voice softened further, almost too calm. "Shoji did ask me to help you with breakfast this morning, since you seemed tired. In exchange, he helped fix my garden fence. But Haruto wasn't here."
"That's not true." Yui's breath came faster now. "You're lying."
"Yui—"
"Why are you lying to me?" Her voice cracked. "You said— you said—"
Himari reached out, placing a firm hand on Yui's arm. "Sweetheart, calm down. Maybe you're just overwhelmed. You've been through a lot lately. It's easy to confuse dreams with memories sometimes."
Yui shook her off, stepping back. "No. I know what I saw. He was here. He was."
Himari's expression flickered — for a second, just a fraction of a second, something like guilt passed across her face. But then it was gone, replaced by that same gentle concern.
"I think you should rest, Yui," she said quietly. "Go to school. Try to clear your head."
The door closed softly before Yui could respond.
For a long moment, she stood there, staring at the wood grain, the faint smell of soap still hanging in the air.Everything inside her twisted.
Had she really dreamed it?
No. She remembered the way Haruto had looked at her. The blood on his hands. The warmth of his body as he shielded her.That wasn't a dream. That couldn't be a dream.
Her legs felt weak as she backed away, whispering, "What's happening to everyone…"
Downstairs, the morning was already in motion.Students walked past the gate, some laughing, some yawning. The city felt too normal, almost cruelly indifferent to the storm inside her chest.
She walked faster, gripping her bag like it was an anchor.The world around her blurred — voices merging into a dull hum, her heart pounding against the sound of her footsteps.
By the time she reached the school gates, she was breathless.
The charm at her neck glinted once in the sunlight.
Meanwhile, back in the apartment, Shoji stirred. The phone on the table buzzed quietly beside him. He groaned, rubbing his eyes, checking the time — already late morning.
He reached for his phone.A text notification blinked on the screen. He typed quickly:
"I don't think this would help."
He stared at it for a moment before hitting send.
Then he leaned back, closing his eyes, whispering under his breath, "Sorry, Yui."
Kuroya Mansion
The air inside was cold — unnervingly silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock near the staircase.
Haruto stood in the center of the grand hall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. His shirt collar was still wrinkled from last night, faint traces of bruises visible along his jaw. He didn't bother hiding them.
Across from him, behind a polished mahogany desk, sat Sota Kuroya.
Even seated, his presence filled the room — precise, calculating, heavy with authority.The glint of the morning sun through the tall windows caught the edge of his glasses as he read through a document.
Finally, he looked up. "You look terrible."
Haruto didn't respond.
"Late nights again?" Sota asked, leaning back in his chair. "Or did you find another fight to start?"
Haruto's jaw tightened. "You wouldn't understand."
"That's right," Sota said coldly. "Because I don't understand stupidity."
Silence thickened between them.
Sota exhaled, setting the document aside. "I heard what happened near the harbor last night. You think I wouldn't find out?"
Haruto said nothing.
"Can't you stay quiet for once in your life?" His father's tone rose slightly. "Riku manages to handle business without drawing blood. Why can't you learn?"
The comparison hit like a knife.Riku — always Riku. The perfect son. The heir everyone trusted.And Haruto — the shadow.
Haruto's lips curled faintly. "Because I'm not him."
"No," Sota said sharply. "You're not. And that's precisely the problem."
He stood abruptly, the movement echoing through the room."You're leaving for London," Sota said flatly. "Start packing your things this instant."
Haruto blinked. "What?"
"You heard me," his father snapped. "You'll leave by this week. You're out of control, and I won't have another scandal tied to this family. You'll take the flight, finish your degree there, and stay as long as necessary."
"I will not leave for London." Haruto's voice was low, steady — but dangerous.
Sota's gaze turned sharp. "Excuse me?"
"I said I'm not leaving," Haruto repeated. "You can throw me out of this house, but I'm not leaving."
Sota's eyes narrowed. "And why is that?"
Haruto's fists clenched. "Because—"
"Because what?" Sota said slowly, his tone thick with disdain. "Oh, I get it."
Haruto's silence was answer enough.
Sota's face hardened. "That girl's name is Yui, right? The daughter of Minato?"
Haruto froze. The air in his lungs turned to stone.
Sota let out a humorless chuckle. "When I first saw her that day… I was reminded of Minato. Poor man."
Haruto's throat went dry. "Dad—"
"Do you know what kind of mess that man left behind?" Sota continued coldly, pacing toward the window. "He was talented, yes. Loyal to a fault. But loyalty can make you weak. And weakness gets people killed."
"Stop," Haruto muttered.
Haruto's breath caught — the floor seemed to tilt beneath him. Every muscle in his body froze.
The silence that followed was suffocating — like the air had been ripped from the room.
Haruto's heartbeat roared in his ears.
But Sota only adjusted his cufflinks, as if the conversation was over.
"I'll have your tickets arranged," he said, turning away.
"Dad…" his voice cracked, disbelief bleeding through.
Haruto's eyes burned. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. The weight of his father's words pressed down like a curse.
Sota's voice broke the silence one last time, sharp as a blade.
"You still want to deny it?" he said, turning his cold eyes back to his son. "Given how her parents were killed?"
The sound of those words lingered long after, sinking into Haruto's chest — like a bullet that had finally found where it had hit earlier.