Reika POV:
"Grazie mille, cara. Puoi andare a casa per oggi; hai fatto un lavoro meraviglioso, Reika. Una volta che tutto sarà finalizzato, ti invieremo le foto prima di pubblicarle." (Thank you very much, dear. You can head home for the day; you did wonderfully, Reika. Once everything's finalized, we'll send you the photos before posting.) Siniora Marino smiles warmly. "Tutti gli altri, muovetevi! Subito, subito!" (Everyone else, get moving! Right away, right away!)
I pick up my bag, exhaustion settling in as I turn to the director. "Sì, arrivederci, Siniora Marino." (Yes, goodbye, Siniora Marino.) God, I'm so tired, I could collapse right here. As I reach the building's main doors, I slip on my sunglasses-anything to shield my eyes from the relentless flashes waiting outside.
Sure enough, as soon as I step out of the grand M✧fashion headquarters, a barrage of cameras lights up the pavement like fireworks. Sunglasses are definitely a good call.
"Miss Reika! Tutti parlano della nuova collezione estiva che stai modellando!" (Miss Reika! Everyone's buzzing about the new summer collection you're modeling!) Here we go...
"Sai quando sarà rilasciata?" (Do you know when it'll be released?)
"Miss Reika!"
"Ci sarà una sfilata per la collezione?" (Will there be a runway show for the collection?)
"La gente è entusiasta per il tuo nuovo album! Hai qualche commento?" (People are excited for your new album too! Any comment?) Why are they always...
"Cosa ne pensi del fatto che il pubblico ti chiami 'Regina di Ghiaccio'?" (What do you think about the public calling you the 'Ice Queen'?)
"Miss Reika!"
"Ti dispiace essere conosciuta come 'La Regina' dai tuoi fan?" (Do you mind being known as 'The Queen' by your fans?)
"Miss—"
"Basta!" (Enough!) My voice cuts through the chaos. My head throbs painfully, and their voices only make it worse. "Siete tutti troppo rumorosi. Le mie orecchie fischiano." (You're all way too loud. My ears are ringing.) I sigh, rubbing my temple. "Nessuna domanda oggi. Non ora." (No questions today. Not now.)With that, I slip into my car, slamming the door behind me, cutting off the noise.
As I drive away from the towering, luxurious building and the swarming crowd of reporters and fans, I wonder for the hundredth time-how do they always know where I am?
As I pull away from the crowd, the city rushes past me in a blur of lights and noise. My car is sleek, quiet, and fast-exactly how I like it. The streets are buzzing with people, but all I hear is the soft hum of the engine and the distant echo of my own thoughts. I keep my sunglasses on, even though the sun is setting, casting a warm glow across the buildings. I can't bear the thought of taking them off, not yet. My head still throbs, and I just need a moment of peace.
The traffic is its usual nightmare, with cars crawling through the streets like they have nowhere important to be. But I'm not in a rush. I never rush. I know where I'm going, and no one is waiting for me at the end of this drive.
As I finally pull up to my building, the valet is already waiting. He opens my door without a word. I don't say anything either; there's no need. He knows the routine by now. I hand him the keys, grab my bag, and step out of the car, stretching for just a second. My legs ache from the long day, but I push it aside, as always.
The entrance to my building is grand, polished marble floors reflecting the soft light of the chandeliers above. It's too fancy for my taste, but it's private, and that's all that matters. As I walk through the lobby, the concierge greets me with a polite nod, and I give a slight nod in return. I don't remember his name. I don't need to. He does his job, and that's all I care about.
The elevator doors slide open, and I step inside, pressing the button for the top floor-my penthouse. The doors close, and the gentle hum of the elevator starts as it begins to rise. I lean back against the wall, letting out a long breath I didn't realize I was holding. The city below fades away, the noise of the streets nothing more than a distant memory by the time I reach the top.
When the doors open again, I step into the hallway. It's quiet up here, always quiet. The only sound is the soft click of my heels against the floor as I walk towards the door to my apartment. I swipe the keycard, and the door unlocks with a soft beep. I push it open and step inside, greeted by the cool, clean air of my penthouse.
The space is as minimal as ever everything in its place. The floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city below, the skyline glowing in the distance. But it's not important right now. All I care about is the silence. Finally, no flashing cameras, no buzzing voices, no one demanding anything from me.
I drop my bag on the nearest chair and kick off my heels, the cool floor feeling like a relief under my feet. I don't bother turning on the lights. I prefer the dimness, the way the fading light from the windows casts long shadows across the room. It feels like the only thing that matches my mood.
I walk to the couch, sinking into the soft cushions with a heavy sigh. The exhaustion is starting to catch up to me, weighing down my limbs, making my eyes feel heavy. But I don't sleep. Not yet.
My phone buzzes, breaking the silence, and I glance at it without picking it up. More work, more demands, more people needing something from me. I ignore it, closing my eyes for a moment, wishing I could just disappear into the quiet for a little while longer.
But, of course, the universe had other plans for me. After a full minute of relentless buzzing, I gave in and picked up my phone.
"Oh, the photos are ready," I muttered, swiping through the images. Each shot was as polished as expected. I love modeling-it is one of the few things that feel natural, even enjoyable at times. There was something calming about stepping into different personas, letting the camera capture what words couldn't. But the downside? It was draining.
At least it paid well and came with the perks of fame, even if that part was more of a double-edged sword.
The pictures were good-good enough for the upcoming summer collection and my new album. I had worked hard on these, and for once, I could say I was proud of the results.
Setting my phone aside, I made my way up the stairs. Too tired to change, I collapsed onto the bed, the soft sheets welcoming the weight of my exhaustion. My eyes closed almost instantly, and within moments, everything faded to black.
3rd person POV:
Far from Italy, in the quiet elegance of a sprawling, luxurious estate, a figure sat comfortably on a sleek sofa, casually scrolling through the latest headlines.
'Women's Summer Collection, Modeled by the "Ice Queen" Reika. M✧fashion.'
"There you are," the figure murmured, a low chuckle escaping as their eyes skimmed the headline. "To think I have a daughter-and not just any daughter, but The Queen Reika." The laugh that followed was cold, underscored by a mixture of amusement and pride. "Who would've thought?"
A satisfied smile tugged at their lips as they dialed a number into their phone. The moment had arrived. Their bloodline would soon return to Japan, leaving Italy-and everything else-behind. After all, family should always stick together, shouldn't it?