Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting the room in pale gold. Koharu sat on the edge of the bed, her bandaged hand resting in her lap, eyes unfocused. The night felt distant, like a dream she couldn't fully wake from—except the ache in her chest refused to fade.
Rinn stood near the window, arms crossed, watching her carefully.
"You can decide whatever you want to do," Rinn said at last, her voice calm but firm. "But if you ask me—stop wasting your time on that girl."
Koharu didn't look up. "I can't."
Rinn exhaled slowly. "Koharu…"
"I can't," Koharu repeated, her voice quiet but unmovable. "Not like that."
Rinn turned to face her fully. "So you're really obsessed with her."
Koharu flinched at the word.
"I'm not," she said immediately, then hesitated. "I don't think I am."
Rinn raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Koharu clenched her jaw. "I just… I know I can't live without her."
The room fell silent.
Rinn's expression softened, but there was pain there too—frustration mixed with concern. "Do you hear yourself?"
Koharu finally looked up, her eyes tired but sincere. "I don't mean I need her to survive. I mean… my days feel empty without her existence in them. Even when she hates me. Even when she doesn't know me."
"That's not love," Rinn said gently. "That's attachment."
"Maybe," Koharu admitted. "But it's the only thing that feels real to me."
Rinn sat down across from her. "You crossed a line," she said. "You know that. You tried to control her world instead of just being in it."
Koharu nodded slowly. "I know. And I hate myself for it."
"Then why are you still holding on?"
Koharu looked down at her bandaged hand, remembering the flowers, the blood, the way Sakura's voice had shattered her. "Because letting go feels like erasing myself."
Rinn closed her eyes briefly, then opened them with resolve. "Listen to me. If you keep chasing her like this, you'll destroy yourself—and her. And I won't be able to stand by and watch."
Koharu swallowed hard. "What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing," Rinn replied. "That's the problem. You need to stop doing things for her. No more interference. No more money. No more invisible strings."
Koharu stayed silent.
"Can you promise me that?" Rinn asked.
After a long pause, Koharu nodded. "I won't do anything to them. To OG. To Sakura."
Rinn studied her carefully. "Not even secretly?"
"Not even secretly," Koharu said.
Relief flickered across Rinn's face, though it was cautious. "Good. Then focus on yourself. Your work. Your life. Heal."
Koharu leaned back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. "I'll try."
But deep down, in the quiet place she didn't dare speak aloud, a fragile hope still lived.
Just one chance, she thought. One honest chance. Without power. Without control.
She didn't want to force her way into Sakura's life anymore.
She just wanted to be allowed to exist in it.
And as Rinn watched her from the doorway, she knew—this wasn't the end of Koharu's feelings. Only the beginning of restraint..