Late August.
The sun blazed directly overhead, and the small town was enveloped in a thick, stifling heat.
At the heart of the town stood an old, worn-out clinic.
On the second floor, beside a slightly chipped wooden door, a girl leaned lazily against the wall.
She wore a simple black-and-white checkered shirt. When she tilted her head downward, the collar slipped slightly, revealing a glimpse of her neck.
Both sleeves were carelessly rolled up to her elbows.
Below, she wore a pair of low-rise jeans — a little faded, clinging to her form just enough for her slim, toned waist to show whenever she moved.
Her beauty was the kind that could steal one's breath.
A nurse, noticing how a certain man had already walked past the girl three times, approached her with a stick of candy and gestured toward one of the rooms.
"Naoko-chan, did your parents come to see you?"
Naoko Akiyama tore open the candy wrapper without lifting her gaze. Her long lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks as she placed the candy in her mouth. Only then did she half-open her eyes and murmur,
"...Probably."
The nurse clicked her tongue softly.
"Hmm. Doesn't look like it."
Without saying more, she tucked the patient chart under her arm and hurried away.
Inside the hospital room sat Naoko's biological parents — Haru Miyamoto and Isamu Akiyama.
They had divorced more than a decade ago, and Naoko had since been living with her maternal grandmother. Half a month ago, when her grandmother's health worsened and she had to be transferred to another facility, both Haru and Isamu had returned to settle the matter.
Naoko leaned against the wall, one knee slightly bent, listening expressionlessly.
Even through the closed door, Haru Miyamoto's voice sounded cold and distant.
"Mr. Akiyama, my mother's condition is deteriorating. I'll be taking her to Chiba for treatment."
Isamu Akiyama turned to look at her, his eyes carrying a complicated mix of irony and emotion.
"Naoko's been expelled. There isn't a single school in Nagahama willing to take her in. Perfect timing — why don't you bring her back with you to the Morita household? They've got connections, right? I'm sure they can find her a decent school."
Haru's patience was wearing thin.
"I've already married into the Morita family and brought Kotoba with me. Now you want me to take another one? What do you think they'll say if I show up with her?"
A heavy sigh hung in the air.
Finding a school willing to take in someone like Naoko would be anything but easy.
Isamu's irritation grew more obvious as the conversation dragged on.
"I wanted to take Kotoba in at first, you know. You didn't want Naoko, so now you're dumping her on me?"
They had two daughters — Naoko Akiyama and Kotoba Akiyama — only a year apart, yet the difference between them was like heaven and earth.
During the divorce, the couple fought bitterly over Kotoba's custody.
In the end, it was Kotoba herself who said she wanted to live with her mother — and only then did the court battle finally come to an end.
Naoko, however, was not wanted by either side.
Each parent tried to push responsibility onto the other, and in the end, no one took her in.
Pitying the poor child, her maternal grandmother, Shizuka Tanaka, decided to raise Naoko alone.
For twelve long years, she cared for her granddaughter single-handedly.
Inside the hospital room, Haru Miyamoto glanced at Isamu Akiyama's mocking expression and clenched her fists, forcing down her anger.
Who in their right mind would want to take in a daughter who constantly caused trouble — especially when she would have to live among people of high status?
If she brought Naoko into the Morita family, they would surely become a laughingstock.
The thought filled Haru with a deep, bitter disgust.
Isamu Akiyama had come to this town long ago, a poor young man whom Shizuka Tanaka had taken pity on.
He had no ambition, no drive — content to carry bricks or work at construction sites.
Within a few years of marriage, Haru had grown weary of his aimless life and divorced him without hesitation.
After the divorce, Haru took Kotoba and married into a wealthy household in Chiba.
Isamu remarried soon after as well, had a son with his new wife, and now lived a stable life.
Isamu had little left to lose, but Haru feared the chaos that would come if he ever showed up at the Morita household uninvited.
If that happened, her reputation — her carefully-built new life — would be ruined.
So, swallowing her resentment, she reluctantly agreed to bring Naoko to Chiba.
When Isamu left the hospital room, he looked at Naoko standing by the door.
"Naoko… you should go too."
He paused for a moment, sighed, and continued,
"The Morita family is rich. If you go with your mother, they'll find you a good school — maybe even let you enter as a third-year. Who knows, you might even go to college someday."
He didn't believe his own words. With Naoko's grades, university was hardly within reach.
But he said it anyway, simply to fill the silence.
Isamu had his own burdens now — a son to raise, no house in the city yet, and a future to worry about.
Before he came, his current wife had already warned him sternly:
"Don't you dare bring that girl back home."
Naoko pressed her back harder against the wall.
The clinic's hallway was stifling — no air conditioning, only the heavy scent of disinfectant and humidity.
She lowered her gaze, idly toying with the second button of her blouse — a small, pearl-like thing that glimmered faintly under the light.
Her fingers were slender and pale, smooth as carved jade cooled by frost.
Her eyes — strikingly beautiful — were cold, edged with faint irritation.
She paid no attention to her father's words.
Unfastening the button, she narrowed her eyes and glanced toward the window at the end of the hall.
A sharp gleam flickered in her gaze.
Just a few meters beyond that window stood a small office.
Inside, a young man sat on a chair — tall, slender, dressed neatly in a white coat that gave off an air of restraint.
He had only recently been assigned to this clinic.
His name was Kazuha Edogawa, the newly appointed chief physician.
Kazuha's calm eyes shifted toward a luxurious sofa that clearly didn't belong in such an old building.
A man lounged there, a cigarette caught between his long, bony fingers.
Thin wisps of pale smoke rose slowly as his arm hung loosely off the
side, his gaze fixed somewhere in midair.
Kazuha Edogawa followed the man's gaze toward the window.
"What are you looking at?"
The man, dressed in a black silk shirt, leaned back deeper into the sofa and smiled faintly.
"...Quite the beautiful figure."
He tilted his head slightly. His nose was sharp and well-shaped, his skin pale to the point of translucence. Half-lidded eyes framed by long lashes concealed whatever emotion lay behind them, giving off an impression of cold detachment.
His voice, low and slightly hoarse as though he'd just woken up, carried an unexpectedly clear resonance that lingered in the air.
He exuded an aura that was both refined and distant — something pure, untouchable.
"Hm?"
Kazuha flipped through the patient file, unsure he had heard correctly.
When he finally lifted his head and caught sight of the man's sensual yet aloof demeanor, he couldn't help but understand why men and women alike in Tokyo were drawn to Shinichi Kanzaki, the third son of the powerful Kanzaki family.
"It's none of your concern,"
Shinichi said lazily, stretching his long legs as he leaned against the sofa's armrest. A faint, indifferent smile touched his lips.
"This assignment will be done in two or three days. You should head back to Tokyo."
"And you, Kanzaki-kun?" Kazuha asked, snapping out of his daze.
Shinichi's bony fingers pressed the cigarette into the ashtray, snuffing it out.
He rose to his feet — tall, straight, and impossibly composed.
A faint haze seemed to cloud his downcast eyes. Brushing invisible dust from his sleeve, he spoke in an almost careless tone:
"I've got another job to take care of."
The Miyamoto family car was parked in front of the small-town clinic.
A black BMW with Chiba license plates gleamed faintly under the afternoon sun.
After finishing her talk with the doctor, Haru Miyamoto took Naoko Akiyama and Shizuka Tanaka with her and headed straight toward Chiba.
"The Morita family has their traditions," Haru said, massaging her temples in irritation. "Don't bring your bad habits into their house. Do you understand?"
Naoko had only one black backpack, which she rested on her knees as she sat slouched in the seat, half-asleep, barely nodding in acknowledgment.
Her long legs were crossed casually, her entire posture radiating a kind of unpredictable wildness — the sort that made it hard to tell if she was listening or not.
"So sleepy, are you? What were you doing last night — robbing someone?"
After twelve years of living as a refined lady in the Morita household, Haru carried herself with perfect elegance.
What she hated most was the rough, uncivilized air Naoko had inherited from her father — Isamu Akiyama — down to the very way she breathed.
Naoko pulled a pair of black earphones from her pocket, slipping them on carelessly.
"Stayed up all night gaming at a net café," she said flatly.
As she lifted her head, one of the earphones slid down her collar, hanging loosely around her neck.
"Wha—!? From now on, you're forbidden from going to net cafés!"
Haru clenched her jaw, teeth grinding as she stared at her daughter's indifferent face.
"You'd better start listening. If you could be even one-tenth as good as Kotoba, I wouldn't have to nag you like this! The Morita family isn't like your grandmother's house. Every move you make reflects on your sister. You might not care what happens to you, but don't you dare drag Kotoba down with you!"
The thought of having to call in favors from Kinta Morita just to get Naoko transferred into a third-year class made Haru's frustration grow even sharper.
Even if she scoured all of Chiba, she doubted she'd find a single school willing to take Naoko Akiyama.
Years ago, Haru had used her beauty and charm to marry Kinta Morita, a wealthy real estate magnate who had lost his wife.
Their daughter Kotoba had always been the perfect child — intelligent, charming, and sweet-natured.
She excelled in her studies and talents, so much so that the Morita family had never once needed to worry about her.
Wherever they went, others would say:
"She's the kind of daughter you want your own to be."
The Moritas adored Kotoba without reservation.
When Haru brought her into the family, it was a moment of pride — something everyone celebrated.
But now, the thought of bringing Naoko into that same household…
Haru felt her appetite vanish completely.
**
At four in the afternoon, a black BMW rolled to a stop in front of the Morita family's villa in Chiba.
"Welcome home, madam…"
The door was opened by a middle-aged woman in a blue blouse. Her eyes widened the moment she saw the two people standing behind Haru Miyamoto — Shizuka Tanaka and Naoko Akiyama.
Haru's chest tightened. She spoke curtly, her irritation barely hidden.
"Suzuki-san, this is my mother, Shizuka, and my daughter, Naoko. Please show them inside. Kotoba will be home from school soon, so I'll go pick her up."
Normally, Kotoba was driven by the Morita family's chauffeur.
The fact that Haru was going herself today said everything — she simply didn't want to face Naoko yet. She needed the air, the distance.
After seeing Haru off, Mrs. Suzuki finally turned toward the two newcomers, eyeing them with barely concealed suspicion.
"Madam Tanaka, Miss Akiyama,"
she said, her gaze sliding over them from head to toe, measuring, judging, before adding with practiced politeness,
"Please, come in."
Then she turned away, leading the way down the corridor — the corners of her lips twisting subtly where they couldn't see.
As they walked, Shizuka's eyes moved across the lavish European-style décor — ornate carvings, imported chandeliers, marble floors polished to a mirror sheen.
Without realizing it, her fingers tightened around the hem of her dress.
At the entrance hall, Mrs. Suzuki reached for a pair of guest slippers.
But when she saw Shizuka step into the foyer without removing her shoes, she froze.
Shizuka noticed the startled look directed her way only after she'd taken a few steps inside.
She might have been from the countryside, but she was neat and clean; neither her shoes nor her clothes were dirty.
Even so, Mrs. Suzuki's stare pricked at her back like needles.
Her granddaughter was watching, so Shizuka straightened her spine and ignored the woman's disapproval.
When she finally stepped back, meaning to take off her shoes, she caught sight of Mrs. Suzuki quietly returning the slippers to their place — as if to say, Don't bother.
The Morita residence had more than enough guest rooms.
Uncertain how Haru intended to handle things, Mrs. Suzuki led the two up to a room on the third floor.
As they turned a corner on the second floor, Naoko caught a glimpse through a half-open door — the gleaming edge of an expensive violin.
Mrs. Suzuki noticed her glance.
"That is Miss Kotoba's room," she said flatly.
Naoko arched an eyebrow, following behind with her usual languid gait. So, she thought dully, Kotoba is clearly the darling of this house.
The guest room upstairs was impeccably clean, but almost painfully bare.
"This is the restroom. Are you familiar with how to use the water heater?"
Mrs. Suzuki asked as she opened the door, her tone implying she was explaining modern tools to cave-dwellers.
Naoko sat on the low table, one knee bent, idly playing with the fresh flowers arranged in a vase.
Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing slim, pale wrists that caught the light.
"Please, take your time. If you need anything, just call for me. I'll be downstairs helping in the kitchen."
After a few more perfunctory instructions, Mrs. Suzuki left the room.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Naoko locked it.
Shizuka looked around the spotless room, thoughtful for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"That Mrs. Suzuki seems… rather friendly, doesn't she? Naoko, from now on, your mother will probably— ah…"
Before she could finish, Naoko upended her backpack onto the table, spilling everything across it.
Shizuka blinked at the gesture, raised an eyebrow — but said nothing.
Shizuka quietly watched as Naoko sorted through her belongings, careful not to interfere.
Her granddaughter had always possessed strange things — odd little objects that no one could quite understand.
She still remembered the last time they'd traveled together: Naoko had placed something on the table that shimmered coldly under the light — a gun.
Shizuka had nearly fainted from shock.
Later, Naoko had explained in her usual flat tone that it was "just a replica toy."
Now, Naoko sat cross-legged on the low table, knees drawn up, idly rummaging through her backpack.
She pulled out a laptop — plain black, without any logo or brand name. It looked brand new, yet somehow anonymous.
She set it on the table without a second thought.
Next came a heavy cell phone.
She tossed it down beside the laptop with a dull thud.
Naoko's belongings were always a mess — scattered and disordered, like her thoughts.
From among the heap, she picked out a white plastic bottle.
When she lifted it, liquid sloshed faintly inside — water, perhaps.
On the outside, a large, messy "Q" had been drawn in black marker. A small sticky note was attached to the side.
Naoko peeled the note off.
It was covered in a jumble of random letters and numbers — meaningless scribbles to anyone else.
But she stared at them for a while, her expression unreadable, before tossing the note aside.
Only the white bottle remained in her hand.
She glanced briefly toward Shizuka, hesitated for a moment, then quietly slipped it into her pocket.
A knock came at the door.
"Madam, Young Master — the master and young sir have returned. They're downstairs and would like to see you both."
Downstairs, Kinta Morita and his son Kinya Morita were speaking in low tones.
After all, Haru was bringing home another daughter — something she'd never have dared to do without warning.
Kinta had received her call from the clinic earlier that day.
"She took a year off from school," Kinta murmured, recalling Haru's words, his brow furrowed with concern. "Apparently, she caused quite a bit of trouble at her previous one — a notorious delinquent, they said. Getting her into Daiichi High won't be easy."
He had always assumed that since Kotoba was so well-behaved, her older sister would be the same.
He'd never thought to ask for details.
Now, it seemed he'd been terribly mistaken.
Never in the history of the Morita family had there been anyone with such a bad reputation.
Kinya sat on the sofa beside him, expression blank, idly scrolling through his phone with one hand, chatting with someone online.
Even as Kinta spoke, his son didn't look up once — clearly uninterested in the topic of Naoko.
But when a faint sound came from the staircase — the quiet rhythm of approaching footsteps — he looked up without thinking.
And then, he drew a sharp breath.