"You're insane," Yuki said, his voice shaking with anger and disbelief. "Completely out of your mind." He took a step back, the serene garden now feeling sinister. "What do you think I am? Some kind of toy?" he continued, his voice rising. "You want me to pretend to be someone else? Your younger brother? That's sick."
He turned and started to walk away, a desperate need to escape consuming him. Then he stopped. The garden stretched endlessly around him – tall trees, winding stone paths. The gated entrance was a distant, unreachable point. He didn't know this place at all.
"Where am I?" Yuki demanded, turning back to face Yoshiro. "Take me back."
"Please," Yoshiro said, his tone tightening, his plea tinged with desperation. "Just listen."
"No! Get me out of here!" Yuki shouted, his voice cracking with fear and frustration. "Who the hell even are you?"
Yoshiro inhaled slowly, his gaze unwavering. "This land belongs to the Monotagari estate. Our mansion is not far from here."
Yuki's stomach dropped. Mansion?
"I am Yoshiro Monotagari," he continued calmly. "CEO of Monotagari Group of Companies."
The name hit Yuki like a physical blow. That company. The one that owned the warehouse he worked in. So that's why something felt wrong. This man wasn't just strange; he was influential, powerful.
"And I know who you are, Yuki Ishida."
Yuki froze, every muscle tensing. "How…?"
"I know your home. Your school. Your job. Your family's situation," Yoshiro said quietly, his voice devoid of threat, yet utterly chilling. "I know you're struggling."
A cold dread ran down Yuki's spine. "You're insane," Yuki snapped, the accusation barely masking his terror. "You investigated me? That's illegal!"
"I am offering you a solution," Yoshiro replied, ignoring Yuki's outburst. "Money. Security. A house. Stability."
"Never," Yuki said firmly, planting his feet. "I won't sell myself for that."
Yoshiro's voice lowered, almost to a whisper. "If you walk away, your life remains the same." There was no explicit threat in his tone, only a calm, terrifying certainty that made Yuki's blood run cold.
Yuki clenched his fists, fighting the urge to lash out. "Take me back," he said, his voice strained.
"I promise I'll take you back," Yoshiro said, taking a step closer. "Just please think about my offer—for your sake, for your family."
After a tense, drawn-out pause, Yuki finally surrendered. "Fine. I'll think about it."
Yoshiro suddenly stepped closer, his face softening with gratitude. "Thank you," he said, and before Yuki could react, briefly embraced him.
Yuki immediately shoved him away, repulsion coursing through him. "Don't touch me," he said coldly, his voice laced with disgust.
***
The car stopped silently in front of Yuki's modest house, its engine still running. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence heavy and charged. Yuki reached for the door handle, eager to escape.
"Yuki."
He paused, his hand still on the cold metal. Yoshiro's voice was calm. Too calm.
"Please think about my offer," he said quietly. "For your safety… and as a solution to your problems."
Yuki's fingers tightened slightly on the handle. Safety? Solution? Was that concern—or a veiled threat? He didn't respond. Without looking back, he stepped out of the car. The door closed with a dull sound, sealing him once more into his own, familiar world. Yuki walked toward his house, feeling the weight of those words pressing against his back, like an invisible hand pushing him forward. He didn't turn around. But he could feel the car still there, watching. Only when he was safely inside his home did the engine finally fade into the distance.
***
Morning. Math class.
"To get the value of x…" the teacher explained, writing formulas across the board. Most of the students were listening intently. Yuki wasn't. He stared blankly at his textbook, the intricate equations blurring into meaningless squiggles.
The encounter from yesterday replayed in his mind. The beautiful, eerie garden. The shocking offer. The terrifying name, Monotagari.
"For your safety…"
"YUKI!"
He startled, shooting to his feet with a jolt. "Yes, ma'am?!"
The classroom erupted in laughter, the sound echoing painfully in his ears.
"Nice one, Yuki," the teacher said dryly, a hint of amusement in her voice. "We're looking for x, not why."
A few students giggled louder, finding the mistake hilarious.
"I think he's answering the question 'why,' not the letter Y," Naru said uncertainly from his seat, trying to defend his friend.
Fumiko, ever practical, smacked the back of Naru's head with a soft thud. The laughter grew even louder, unrestrained now.
"Silence!" the teacher snapped, her voice cutting through the noise. The class quieted, though stray chuckles still punctuated the air.
"I'm sorry, Miss," Yuki mumbled, his face burning, lowering his head before slumping back into his seat.
The lesson continued, but the numbers on the board remained a blur. His mind refused to focus, trapped in the unsettling loop of yesterday's events.
***
They were at the mall again, walking together, the familiar noise and bustle a stark contrast to Yuki's internal turmoil.
"You haven't been yourself lately, Yuki," Fumiko said, her voice filled with genuine concern, her eyes searching his.
Yuki glanced at her, forcing a casual shrug. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," she replied gently, unconvinced.
Naru nodded, his usual cheerful demeanor subdued. "Yeah. Is something bothering you? Something at home?"
Yuki shook his head, avoiding their gaze. "Nothing. I'm just tired."
Fumiko frowned slightly, a knowing look on her face. "You can talk to us, you know."
"I know. I'm sorry." Yuki forced a small, brittle smile. It didn't reach his eyes. "I just need rest."
Naru exchanged a worried look with Fumiko. They were clearly concerned. Yuki could see it, the unspoken questions in their eyes. But he didn't know how to explain. How do you tell your friends that a powerful, unsettling stranger offered you a life of pretense, demanding you embody a dead boy? How do you explain that your life suddenly felt smaller, trapped between impossible choices? That every word from yesterday still echoed in his head, twisting his thoughts? So he stayed quiet, the heavy burden his alone to bear.
"I'll be okay," Yuki said, the words a hollow promise more to himself than to them.
"Oh, I have an idea!" Naru exclaimed, suddenly brightening, shaking off the somber mood. "Let's have some fun today. It might help you relax."
Fumiko shook her head, a soft smile touching her lips. "No way. Yuki has work."
"I took the day off," Yuki replied, surprising even himself. The thought of another day in the warehouse, with his mind so preoccupied, had been unbearable. "I can go with you."
Naru's face lit up, a joyous "Yey!" escaping his lips.
Fumiko sighed, a theatrical gesture, but smiled slightly. "Fine. But don't overdo it."
They started walking deeper into the mall, leaving the heavy thoughts behind. Shops surrounded them—bright displays, quiet music, people moving in and out of stores. A normal afternoon. No pressure. No heavy thoughts. Just friends spending time together.
Yuki tried to relax. It wasn't easy. The memories still lingered. The offer still echoed. But for now, he focused on the moment. Naru was already talking excitedly about where to eat. Fumiko was teasing her about choosing dessert first. Yuki smiled, a genuine, if fleeting, smile. Small moments like this mattered, he realized. Even if life was complicated, impossibly heavy, he still had people beside him. That was enough for today.
***
Night had passed, swift and unforgiving. Yuki had just returned home from his brief respite with his friends.
"Mother!"
The sudden, panicked shout from inside the house made him freeze, every muscle tensing. He dropped his bag and rushed toward the bedroom. The sight hit him hard, stealing the air from his lungs. His mother was on the floor, pale and still. Nagano was kneeling beside her, his face etched with terror, trying to help. "Quick! Call an ambulance!" Nagano shouted, his voice strained.
Yuki didn't waste a second. He fumbled for his phone, his fingers trembling, and dialed the emergency number. Within minutes, the ambulance arrived, its sirens wailing, a stark intrusion into the quiet night. They took her to the hospital. Now they waited, a small, terrified huddle outside the emergency room.
Yuki's hands trembled slightly, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. "What happened, Nagano-niisan?" he finally managed to ask, his voice hoarse.
Nagano exhaled slowly, a heavy, defeated sound. "I found her on the floor. She must have tried to stand and collapsed."
Yuki swallowed, his chest tightening with a crushing pain. He wanted to cry, to scream, to shatter. But he held it in. He needed to be strong for them.
Mayumi arrived a little later, her face blotchy with tears, panic in her voice. "Where is Mom?"
They waited, an agonizing eternity. Minutes stretched into hours. Finally, the ER door opened. The doctor stepped out, his expression grim, serious.
"Leukemia has progressed," he said, his words falling like stones. "It's worse than before. She will need surgery."
Yuki's heart sank, crashing into the pit of his stomach. The words echoed in his head, a death knell to his fragile hope.
***
Yuki stumbled outside the hospital, needing to breathe. And to cry. He didn't want his brother and sister to see it, to see him break. He needed to be strong for them.
The night air was cool, biting at his exposed skin. He leaned against the rough brick wall and closed his eyes, just for a moment. To let it out. The sheer weight of it all—his mother's illness, the crushing debt, the impossible offer—felt ready to consume him.
Then he remembered something. The business card. Yoshiro's card.
He reached into his bag, his fingers fumbling, and found it tucked inside his notebook, a stark white rectangle promising an unbearable choice. His fingers trembled as he stared at the number, glowing faintly in the dim hospital light. Should he make the call or not? His heart screamed yes, a desperate cry for salvation. But his mind whispered no, a warning that this was a bad idea, a dangerous idea, a step into an unknown abyss.
But his mother needed help. The surgery cost money. Money he didn't have, money he couldn't earn quickly enough. He swallowed his pride, the bitter taste of defeat filling his mouth. Guilt and necessity fought a brutal battle inside him, tearing him apart.
Finally, with a hand that shook violently, he dialed the number. The line connected, each ring a hammer blow against his sanity.
"Hello," Yoshiro's voice said calmly, evenly, as if he had been waiting.
"Good evening…" Yuki replied, stuttering slightly, his voice barely a whisper. "Can I… speak to Mr. Yoshiro?"
"Yuki…" Yoshiro said, his voice dropping to a low, knowing tone. "Do you have a decision now?"
Yuki froze, his throat tightening, the weight of his choice suffocating him.
"Yes," he said, the word a small, broken sound. His voice was quiet, nervous, defeated. "I… want to talk to you… about the offer."