Chapter One: The Pact Behind Closed Doors
The private dining hall of the Tachibana estate was warm with candlelight and history. Tall portraits of ancestors lined the walls, their faces etched with pride and solemn dignity — reminders that every step taken in this house was watched by the past.
Seated at a long lacquered table, two families shared tea, laughter, and something far heavier.
At the head sat Mr. Tetsuro Tachibana, patriarch of the renowned hospitality empire, his suit crisp, his posture firm despite his age. Beside him, his wife, Mrs. Keiko Tachibana, poured tea with a serenity that masked years of wielded influence.
Opposite them, Mr. Masaki Hayama, head of the powerful Hayama Group, swirled his cup thoughtfully. His wife, Mrs. Eri Hayama, sat with a knowing smile, watching the two families exchange polite conversation — a prelude to the storm they were about to unleash.
Between them sat the siblings: Daiki, silent but alert. Hiroto, ever poised. Suzu, fingers tapping quietly beneath the table. And finally—Aika.
Graceful, attentive, unreadable.
Her eyes flicked between her father and Mr. Hayama, sensing something beneath the surface. She had been raised not to interrupt elder discussions. Yet tonight, the air felt... ceremonial.
Tetsuro cleared his throat.
"Before our children, we speak of the promise once made. Two generations ago, when our grandfathers — Isamu Tachibana and Genzo Hayama — forged their bond in vision and blood. They began as farmers and haulers… they built an empire. And they made a pact."
Aika straightened. Suzu blinked. Hiroto's hand paused above his cup.
Masaki continued, "A promise that when the time came, our bloodlines would join not just in commerce—but in life. In marriage."
Silence.
Tetsuro turned, his eyes soft on Aika. "We believe that time is now."
Her throat tightened. She said nothing. She never interrupted.
"And…" Masaki looked to the seat beside Hiroto — still empty. "We have chosen your second son, Renjiro, for this bond."
The silence fractured into shock.
Aika felt her heart drop. She hadn't seen Renjiro in nearly seven years. He'd changed in high school. He stopped replying to her messages, stopped looking her way. Cold. Distant. Like a stranger wearing the face of a boy she once adored.
Now… they wanted to marry her to him?
Suzu's brows drew together. Hiroto said nothing, but his eyes narrowed.
Then—right on cue—the grand double doors opened.
Renjiro Hayama, tall in a dark navy suit, entered with unhurried steps. His hair was slightly tousled from the night breeze, his expression neutral, unreadable. His eyes flicked to his parents… then to Aika.
The corner of his lip barely twitched upward.
"I was told there was a dinner," he said. "Didn't know it was a betrothal."
Masaki sighed. "Renjiro—"
"I don't agree." Renjiro's voice was firm, cool, deliberate. "Whatever promises were made by ghosts… I have my own life. My own plans."
Aika looked at him, stunned. But she said nothing.
Tetsuro's expression didn't waver. "And what of your family's legacy, Renjiro?"
"My legacy," he said evenly, "will not be bought with someone else's heart."
Then his eyes locked with Aika's for the first time in years.
Cold. Detached.
"She deserves more than a forced name beside hers."
And with that—
Renjiro bowed to the room, turned, and walked out.
Leaving silence behind him.
And a pact… now ignited.
As Renjiro's footsteps faded beyond the doors, the room settled into a strained silence.
It was Mrs. Eri Hayama who first exhaled, gently setting her teacup down with a muted clink.
"He will come around," she said with practiced calm. "He's never responded well to being cornered. Especially not when it involves… his future."
Tetsuro Tachibana leaned forward, fingers laced over the lacquered wood. "Is he in love with someone else?"
Masaki didn't answer immediately. Instead, he cast a glance at Hiroto, who remained composed but alert, then to his wife, whose silence seemed to carry weight.
"Perhaps. But if it were serious, we'd know." His voice sharpened. "And even if there is someone, affection has never secured an empire. Legacy has."
Keiko Tachibana, poised as ever, nodded. "Aika is ready. She always has been."
Everyone looked at the young woman now, her face serene, her hands gently folded in her lap. Inside, her thoughts spun like silk unraveling—but her voice was clear when she spoke:
"I will follow the will of our families."
No protest. No hesitation.
Mrs. Hayama's smile was tinged with something unreadable. "Your grace does you credit, Aika. You were always the ideal child."
Aika simply bowed her head, though her throat felt tight. A hundred memories of Renjiro flickered behind her eyes—the boy who used to tug on her braids at recess, who helped her cheat on that ridiculous algebra test, who disappeared from her life without a word.
Now… her husband?
Tetsuro nodded. "The marriage will proceed. The legal terms have been drawn. I suggest a six-month preparation period. Spring—new season, new bond."
Mrs. Keiko added softly, "Let the ceremony be in Kyoto. The ancestral home should witness this union."
Masaki agreed, though his eyes briefly wandered toward the doors Renjiro had exited through. "We will handle our son. He has pride, but he also has duty. He will not shame the Hayama name."
Eri glanced at Aika again. "And if he pushes you away?"
Aika met her gaze without flinching. "Then I will wait."
Later That Night — The Garden Balcony, Tachibana Estate
The dinner had ended with practiced farewells and veiled unease. Now the cool night air brushed against Aika's face as she stepped onto the marble balcony overlooking the moonlit garden.
She heard the light scuff of heels behind her.
Suzu Hayama, still in her college cardigan and pleated skirt, joined her quietly. Her presence was softer than the rest of her family—more genuine, less burdened by legacy.
"You're really okay with all this?" Suzu asked gently, leaning on the railing.
Aika smiled, faint but warm. "What choice do I have?"
Suzu frowned. "That's not a real answer."
Aika's gaze dropped to the sakura tree below, barren now but still beautiful under the moon.
"I used to think… we would always be close. Renjiro and I. When we were children. But after he started high school, he disappeared like I never existed."
Suzu hesitated, then said, "He's… complicated. Our family pushed him early. Expectations, pressure. When you grow up being told what you must become, you start to hate anyone who reminds you of it."
"Do I remind him of it?" Aika asked, more curious than hurt.
"You remind him of what he left behind."
There was a silence between them, filled only by the whisper of leaves and distant city sounds.
Suzu turned to her. "You're not weak, Aika. I know people think you're just this perfect little heir bride, but… you've got steel under all that lace."
Aika's lips twitched. "I don't need to prove that."
"No," Suzu agreed. "But I think he will need to learn it the hard way."
Aika looked at her then. "Do you think he'll ever accept me?"
Suzu sighed. "I think one day… he'll regret that he didn't sooner."
The Hayama estate's study was dimly lit, lined wall-to-wall with mahogany bookshelves and the faint scent of aged scotch and sandalwood. A fire crackled in the hearth, but it brought no warmth to Renjiro, who stood stiff by the window, staring out into the night.
Behind him, the door clicked shut.
Hiroto entered without a word, carrying two glasses of whiskey. He placed one on the edge of the desk beside Renjiro, then moved to the leather armchair with the quiet grace of someone used to authority.
Renjiro didn't turn.
"You knew about it," he said coldly.
Hiroto took a sip. "Father told me last week. I didn't expect them to announce it tonight."
Renjiro's jaw clenched. "Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I knew how you'd react."
Finally, Renjiro turned, eyes flashing.
"Then you should have stepped in. You should be the one marrying her, not me. You're the firstborn. You've always been the one bred for this—why me?"
Hiroto regarded him calmly over the rim of his glass. "Because the family trusts you more than you trust yourself."
Renjiro scoffed. "That's rich coming from the golden son."
"I already made my choice years ago," Hiroto said. "I'm with someone outside our circle. Father accepted that. But the legacy still needs a bridge between the families—and you're the only one left who fits."
Renjiro turned back to the window, fists clenched at his sides.
"She's not just some girl, Hiro. She's—she's Aika. She's..."
He stopped, the words catching.
Hiroto watched him carefully. "She's the girl you left behind."
Silence.
Then Renjiro laughed, but it was bitter. "You think I left? She was the one who smiled and looked at you like you hung the damn stars. You don't even realize, do you?"
Hiroto frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Renjiro's voice dropped. "She was always following you. I thought… I thought she—"
His voice cracked, and he turned away sharply.
"You were the one she looked up to. I was just the younger brother who carried her sketchbooks in middle school."
Hiroto stood slowly, setting his glass down.
"She was a child. She admired me the way little sisters admire big brothers. But you—Renji—you were the one she waited for. You were just too blind to see it."
Renjiro went still.
"Now," Hiroto continued, stepping closer, "she's still that same girl. Stronger. Smarter. And patient in ways I don't think you deserve. But our family chose her because she can hold what's ours without folding."
Renjiro turned, his voice low.
"And what if I refuse?"
Hiroto's expression didn't change.
"Then you'll lose everything, including the only person who's ever looked at you like you're more than just a name in a dynasty."
He paused.
"And by the time you realize it… she won't be looking at you anymore."
Then he walked past him, slow and silent, and left the study with the soft click of the door.
Renjiro stared at the closed door, the weight of his brother's words sinking like stone into the pit of his chest.
For the first time in years, he felt something old stirring beneath the walls he'd built — something like regret.