Morning light was barely creeping through my window when my dream shattered — loud footsteps storming down the hall, then a harsh shove against the door. Before I could even lift my head, a heavy weight crashed onto the bed over me.
I gasped, caught between the blanket and a warm body.
"Maiko!" I yelled, trying to push her off, but her bright, infectious laugh drowned out any protest.
She lifted her head from the pillow, wet brown hair clinging to her face like morning dew, and that same childish smile I'd never forgotten.
"I wanted to surprise you. Looks like I nailed it."
"If this were a horror flick, you'd be the first to die."
She grinned, crawling closer to sit beside me, legs folded just like we did as kids.
Minutes slipped by, filled with laughter and quick stories that dusted off years of silence. I remembered us skipping school to buy ice cream by the river, returning soaked and giggling with silly excuses. I thought those moments were lost forever — but her laughter sparked them back to life.
Her eyes caught my travel bag on the floor. She tilted her head, studying it, then shot me a sharp, curious look.
"So… when are you finally going to tell me why you really came back?"
My smile wobbled. I looked away, pretending to search the pillow for an answer. But her quiet stare pressed down on my chest like a weight.
"It's… complicated."
"Complicated how?"
I took a slow breath, words slicing through me like blades.
"My dad told me I'm… engaged."
She burst out laughing. Then she saw my face and stopped cold.
"You're serious?"
"Completely. Some arranged marriage deal between my family and another — some ancient contract nobody mentioned until after I came back."
"And this groom… do you even know him?"
"No."
She stared like she was trying to read between my words, but I said nothing more.
Trying to lighten the mood, I said, "Let's go shopping."
Outside, Tokyo buzzed alive; the smell of grilled meat and soy sauce floated from food stalls, shop signs screamed neon, and raindrops tapped colorful umbrellas.
Maiko flitted between stores, lifting dresses like they were pieces of a story. I followed slowly, watching strangers, thinking about the night ahead — about the man I'd never met but who waited for me at the end of this path.
When our legs tired, we slipped into a tiny café smelling like fresh coffee. We sat by the window, raindrops racing each other down the glass. Miyako sipped quietly, eyes on me.
"Elin…" she whispered, "are you really okay?"
I smiled, trying to sound sure, but inside something twisted, begging to break free. I set my cup down. The soft clink felt like a countdown starting.
"There's something… I haven't told you."
She leaned in, eyes locking with mine.
"I have a boyfriend… in Italy."
Her smile froze. Despite the warm café, a cold shiver crept up my spine. I knew this was the spark before the storm.
Maiko kept staring, like my words still floated, refusing to settle. Outside, rain filled the silence, mingling with the drip of the coffee machine behind the barista.
"A boyfriend?" she breathed, testing the word.
"Yes."
"In Italy?"
I nodded. Her eyes flickered with shock, worry, or maybe both — I couldn't tell.
She set her cup down slowly, but didn't fully let go, like she needed something to hold onto.
"Elin… do you know what this means?"
"I do."
"No, I don't think you do. If your family arranged this marriage, that boyfriend is going to be the biggest problem in your life."
I smiled bitterly despite the weight in my chest.
"As if my life isn't already complicated enough."
Her expression shifted from worry to fierce determination. She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper—but every word was sharp and clear:
"Who is he? And what do you plan to do?"
I fidgeted with the edge of the paper napkin in front of me, tearing it apart with my fingers until it turned into thin threads. His name spun through my mind—his voice, his laugh, the promise I left hanging when I walked away.
"His name is… Lorenzo. We met three years ago. He was… everything to me."
I stopped, swallowing the rest of the sentence. "And he still is."
Maiko took a deep breath and leaned back.
"Does he know you're here?"
I nodded.
"And does he know about the marriage?"
I shook my head.
Another heavy silence fell, thick and tense, like we were sitting on a tightrope stretched over an abyss.
"Elin, you have to decide now: will you tell him… or will you bury it?"
Before I could answer, my phone rang on the table.
The screen lit up with my father's name.
Maiko looked at me, like she already knew this call would bring trouble.
I picked up, hearing his usual mocking tone—but beneath it, a rare thread of seriousness:
"Wear something suitable tonight. We have important guests."
"Who?"
"The Kurosawa family."
My blood ran cold.
He hung up without waiting for my reply, leaving me staring at the screen as the rain outside grew heavier—like the storm inside me was spilling over.
I looked up at Maiko.
She said softly,
"I think the storm came earlier than you expected."
I couldn't hide the trembling in my hand as I set the phone aside. The words twisted in my mind like flickering flames, scorching everything around me. The Kurosawa family, the name hung heavy in the room like a massive boulder.
I looked at her, seeing a mixture of worry and strength in her eyes — but it wasn't enough to make me feel safe. She knew I was facing something way beyond me, that I was trapped between forces I couldn't control.
"How am I supposed to face them?" I whispered, my voice sinking low, heavy with despair.
"You're not alone," she said, her grip firm on my hand. "I'm here. No matter what."
Still, inside, I felt a sting of disappointment. Would she really understand? Could her words ever douse the fire of loneliness burning in my chest? No, it wasn't that simple.
Slowly, I rose from my seat, feeling the weight of every step press down on the wooden floor. I glanced out the window, where the rain tapped out a broken rhythm — like nature itself was warning me about what lay ahead.
In that moment, I realized what I'd been waiting for all my life wasn't just a reunion or a return home… but the beginning of a ruthless storm — one that would change everything.
And in the café's quiet, I made a promise to myself: to be ready. Whatever the cost.
We stepped out of the café under the small umbrella, Maiko teasing me so I wouldn't slip on the wet sidewalks. The streets gleamed with the reflection of neon lights, cars rushing past leaving streaks of color behind them. We reached the sleek black car my father had sent, and Maiko opened the door for me first before bidding me farewell with a small smile.
"Elin… if you ever feel like you're drowning, don't try to swim alone."
I managed a faint smile at her, then slid into the back seat. The moment the door shut, it felt as if the outside world had been cut off completely.
The whole ride home, I watched the rain racing down the glass, the city fading away behind a veil of mist. The driver didn't say a word, and the silence only made my thoughts louder.
When the car finally stopped in front of the massive iron gate, it swung open automatically, revealing the long road leading to the mansion. The cold white lights lining the path didn't feel welcoming — they felt like a reminder that I didn't belong here.
Inside, the Sayuka, greeted me with a short bow.
"Miss Elin, the master has requested that I help you prepare for this evening."
I raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Prepare…?"
"He said it's an important occasion."
She led me to my spacious room, filled with the scent of polished Japanese wood and fresh white flowers. On the bed lay an evening gown — black, with a faint shimmer like the night sky after rain.
While Sayuka spread the dress neatly across the bed, I sat in front of the mirror, and she began brushing my hair gently.
"Sayuka… how do the contract ceremonies usually work? And how many people attend?"
She hesitated for a moment, then said in a neutral tone,
"The master will explain it to you himself."
A faint smile tugged at my lips, but inside, a coldness seeped into my chest. Yuko continued her work, adjusting a strand here, pinning another there, as if she were trying to make me fit into a picture that had been prepared long before I arrived.
An hour later, the clock was nearing eight. She finished the last touches on my hair and left me alone.
That's when the silence of the mansion changed. The sound of car engines began to creep in from a distance, growing louder with each passing second, until I saw a line of black cars passing through the grand gates one after another. A heavy knot tightened in my chest.
Someone knocked softly on the door, and another maid stepped inside.
"Miss Elin, the master requests your presence downstairs."
"Alright… I'll be there."
I waited until she left, then approached the door. My hand rested on the handle, but my fingers froze. Suddenly, everything felt suffocating. I stepped back, turning toward the window.
I whispered, my heartbeat quickening,
"I'll run away… I can't do this to Lorenzo."
My voice was low, but it carried a sharpness I didn't recognize in myself — as if the decision was no longer a choice, but salvation itself. I looked outside at the rain weighing down the glass, and thought that leaping into the unknown would be easier than walking steadily into my cage.
Without giving myself another moment to hesitate, I gathered the hem of my black gown, pulled it up enough to move freely, and climbed onto the windowsill. The cold night air hit my skin like a warning, but I ignored it. One deep breath — then I jumped.
My feet hit the wet grass, and I ran. Through the gardens, past the marble fountains, and into the dense shadows of the estate's trees. My heels sank into the soft, rain-soaked earth, but I didn't slow down. The further I went, the louder my pulse became, until it was all I could hear.
I wasn't thinking — I was just escaping.
Branches clawed at my dress, the scent of wet leaves filled my lungs, and my hair clung to my face. Then, without warning, I crashed into something solid. My body jolted, and I stumbled backward, hitting the ground hard. Mud seeped into the fabric of my gown, cold and damp.
I looked up — and froze.
Towering over me was a tall man with an athletic build, the kind of sharp-edged beauty that demanded attention whether you wanted to give it or not. His skin was slightly pale, his jet-black hair falling messily over his forehead, as if chaos itself had claimed him. Strands of it partially shadowed his eyes — piercing, ice-blue eyes that seemed to cut through souls and strip away secrets. Cold in their calm, razor-sharp in their focus, they watched me with unsettling clarity, as though he understood far more than I had spoken.
He wore a black shirt with the top buttons undone, silver chain earrings dangling from his left ear, catching the faint moonlight. A cigarette rested lazily in his right hand, smoke curling upward into the damp night air. Black, intricate tattoos crawled up his arms and along part of his neck, adding an edge of danger to his already magnetic presence.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
The rain fell harder.
And I had no idea whether I had just escaped my prison…
or run straight into a new one.