The sun peeked gently over the horizon, casting a golden hue across Sakura University's red-brick buildings. A breeze rustled through the rows of blooming maple trees, their amber and crimson leaves fluttering like scattered confetti down the quiet cobblestone path.
Students in beige coats and black backpacks trickled across the campus grounds, some yawning, some chatting with coffee in hand. The scent of toasted sweet potatoes and warm bread rolls drifted from the nearby food stall.
A soft yet clear tone echoed from the campus speakers.
[ "Good morning, Sakura University. This is Kara from the Broadcasting Team." ]
Her voice rang across the open campus, soft and honeyed, like the gentle start of a morning radio show.
[ "Today's song is for all of you who might've had a rough weekend. Here's a little sunshine to help you through your Monday." ]
As her voice faded, music began to play: "Slow" by SOLE.
A calming R&B track with a warm, lo-fi groove, perfect for sleepy campus mornings.
~Turn-Turn~
Amid the calm and quiet of the campus, one figure stood out — someone wearing a mask and cape, blinking and shifting left and right to check if anyone was watching.
Though they clearly wanted to avoid attention, their suspicious getup only earned them more of it. Students whispered and stared as they passed by.
"What do you think you're doing, Sayu?" Rin asked flatly, glaring at her ridiculous-looking best friend.
Sayu stood at the edge of the campus garden, her oversized hoodie pulled over her head and a black mask hiding her face beneath it. She wasn't in the mood for acoustic sunshine. If anything, she was praying for a thunderstorm to strike her dorm.
"What do you think?!" Sayu hissed back in a whisper-shout. "This is your fault! How did they even get that angle?!"
Earlier that morning, while trying to play music on her phone, she was met with dozens of notifications. That was when she saw it — her confession from last night posted on the school's official journalism page.
It had already become the top story.
She couldn't believe how fast the news spread — wildfire would've been slower. But more than that, she was baffled at how someone even managed to capture the moment so perfectly. One blurry video and now half the campus knew her face.
Her peaceful college life was over.
As Sayu sulked and self-pitied, Rin grabbed her arm and started dragging her toward the lecture hall.
"Okay, but unless you want an absence for your first class, we better move," Rin muttered.
Sayu groaned, still reluctant, but followed anyway.
***
Inside the lecture hall, Kanna and Mio were already seated on the far-left side. Sayu and Rin joined them, and Sayu slowly peeled off her mask — which, unfortunately, made things worse.
All at once, whispers filled the air:
— "Look, isn't that her?"
— "You mean Hayato's girl?"
— "Seriously, what did he see in her? I'm prettier."
— "Woah, she's actually kinda cute up close."
Sayu winced, sinking into her seat.
"Hey, Sayu," Kanna asked gently, "I heard about the video... How are you holding up?"
"Yeah," Mio added, ever the realist. "You okay?"
"Ehhmm... I'll survive," Sayu mumbled, forcing a smile. "I wouldn't be in this mess if not for—"
She side-eyed Rin, who just giggled.
"Well, thanks to me, you do have a boyfriend now~" Rin teased.
"Ugh. Rin, I swear, if this continues, I'm demoting you from best friend."
Rin threw her arm around Sayu dramatically. "Come on~! It's not my fault someone was filming there! Besides, who would've thought he of all people would actually say... 'yes'." She still sounded shocked.
Then, switching tones like flipping a switch, she grinned and shook Sayu's arm. "Please forgive me, Sayu~ Pretty pleaaaase~"
"Ugh, okay! Just—stop shaking me!"
"Hehe! I knew you had a soft spot for me," Rin giggled triumphantly.
Sayu rolled her eyes, caught off guard by her friend's mood swing — so much so that she didn't notice someone sitting next to her.
"I can't believe you're that close with someone who isn't me," a cool voice murmured beside her. "At this point, I might get jealous."
Sayu turned, startled.
There he was.
Hayato Arisaka.
Bathed in the morning light, his smooth skin practically glowing, giving him a real-life halo effect. His striking blue eyes and artfully tousled hair made every girl in the room forget to breathe.
"You're not even going to say good morning to your boyfriend?" he asked, amused.
Sayu's breath hitched. Around them, students stared in silence — many girls blushed, while their boyfriends scowled in envy.
"You—What are you doing here?!"
"I take this class too," Hayato replied smoothly, "but more importantly...I came to see you, of course"
*****
The room exuded quiet opulence. High glass windows stretched from floor to ceiling, letting in soft daylight that reflected off crystal chandeliers and velvet drapes. Marble floors gleamed beneath Persian rugs, and every piece of furniture—from the carved mahogany bookshelves to the gold-trimmed coffee table—whispered of wealth old enough to be bored by its own existence.
At the center of the room, lounging on an antique chaise, sat a woman who looked like she belonged in a painting.
Ayame Arisaka.
Her posture was elegant, legs crossed, her back straight without even trying. In her right hand, she held a delicate porcelain teacup with a half inch of untouched oolong tea. Her dark, glossy hair was pinned back in a traditional twist, not a strand out of place, framing a face too youthful for her age.
In fact, if you tell anyone she's in her late 40's with two Kids, they wouldn't believe you.
High cheekbones, sharp almond eyes with just the faintest hint of eyeliner, and lips tinted rose. Everything about her was meticulous—controlled perfection.
As she scanned the morning paper with unshaken calm, the quiet was broken by a knock, and then the soft steps of her assistant approaching from behind.
"Ma'am, you should see this, It's about the Young Master."
He spoke cautiously, as though disturbing the room might disturb her.
He offered her a sleek black tablet, unlocked and glowing with an open campus article from Sakura University. A still image on the cover—Hayato under a tree, with a girl bowing before him, under written: Hayato Arisaka, finally accepting a Confession.
Ayame took the tablet wordlessly, placed her paper aside, and began scrolling through the article. Her expression didn't change—but the air did. Cooler, quieter.
A long silence followed.
Then, finally, in a voice as refined as polished glass, she muttered,
"…This kid. What is he doing?"
Her assistant flinched slightly, unsure if she was amused or disappointed. Maybe both.
She didn't look up from the screen. But her free hand slowly set down the teacup.
A chill settled into the quiet air of the room—not because the breeze had changed, but because Ayame Arisaka had.