Two weeks had passed since the night Ryūta woke up clutching a pendant he couldn’t explain and in that time, nothing extraordinary happened. No cryptic messages, no strangers lurking in the shadows, no dreams that blurred the line between sleep and reality. Just the quiet rhythm of ordinary days, one after the other, steady and unremarkable.

  He went to school and paid attention in class, or at least made a convincing effort.

  Lunch was spent with Shinji, who had taken to quizzing him on history dates between bites of rice, and with Sanae, who had taken to stealing food from both of them while pretending she hadn’t brought enough of her own.

  Afternoons usually found the three of them at the teahouse, where the strawberry cheesecake had become something of a ritual. Shinji would pull out his notebook and plan the next student council meeting, while Sanae would vanish into the bookstore next door and return with rosy cheeks and a new recommendation no one had asked for. Ryūta would sit between them, content to listen, occasionally offering a dry remark that earned a laugh or a playful shove.

  In the evenings, it was Ninel.

  She would be waiting when he returned, the apartment spotless, tea already brewing. They rarely spoke about anything heavy. Most of the time, he studied while she cleaned, or embroidered, or simply sat nearby reading one of the books she had borrowed from his shelf. The silence between them was comfortable, almost domestic in a way that neither of them acknowledged out loud.

  Sometimes, when her guard was down, the boy caught a glimpse of something soft in her expression. A faint smile while she arranged flowers in a small vase by the window, or a quiet hum he couldn’t place, possibly a melody from wherever she had grown up. In those moments, the maid looked less like someone fulfilling a duty and more like someone who had simply found a place where she could breathe.

  Ryūta noticed. He always did. But he never said anything, afraid that naming it might somehow break the spell.

  The pendant rested against his chest, hidden beneath his shirt. He had gotten used to its weight, the cool touch of metal against his skin every morning when he woke. Whether it truly held any power, he still wasn’t sure. His father’s words echoed in the back of his mind from time to time, but they felt distant, belonging to a world he wasn’t ready to confront just yet.

  For the first time in months, life was calm. And though a small, restless part of him kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, the rest simply wanted to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

  It was late afternoon when Ninel’s voice pulled him out of a particularly stubborn math problem.

  “Ryūta-sama, I will be stepping out for a while. We are running low on a few things.”

  The boy looked up from his notebook, rubbing his eyes. He had been staring at the same equation for the better part of twenty minutes, and the numbers had long since stopped making sense.

  “Hold on, I’ll come with you,” he said, already closing the book.

  The maid paused in the doorway, a canvas bag folded neatly over her arm.

  “That is not necessary. I will not be long.”

  “I know. But I’ve been stuck on the same page for an hour, and if I keep staring at it, my brain’s going to melt,” he replied, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulders popped. “Besides, I could use some fresh air.”

  A small smile crossed the girl’s face. She gave a short bow.

  “Then I would be glad for the company.”

  The streets around the tower were lively at that hour. Office workers streamed out of nearby buildings, filling the sidewalks with a steady current of dark suits and tired faces. The occasional vendor called out from a stall, advertising everything from roasted sweet potatoes to freshly made taiyaki.

  Ninel moved through the crowd with practiced efficiency, checking items off a mental list as they went from one shop to the next. Vegetables, seasoning, tea leaves, a bar of soap she had apparently been meaning to replace for days. Ryūta followed half a step behind. When he offered to carry the bags, she protested, insisting it was her job, but the boy wouldn’t hear it. After a brief back-and-forth that she was never going to win, she gave in with a quiet smile and handed them over.

  “You always buy the same brand,” he observed, glancing at the tea she had just picked up.

  “It is the one you prefer,” she replied matter-of-factly, placing it in the bag he was holding open for her.

  “Is it? I never really paid attention.”

  “I know. That is why I do.”

  The remark was so casual, so entirely without pretense, that Ryūta didn’t quite know how to respond. He settled for a quiet nod and shifted the bag to his other hand.

  By the time they had finished, the sun was already dipping toward the rooftops, painting the sky in shades of amber and pale rose. They walked side by side, their pace unhurried, neither of them in any rush to return.

  It was then that they noticed him.

  A tall, slender man was walking toward them from the opposite direction. Everything about him stood out. His light brown hair was swept back in loose waves, and a neatly trimmed beard framed a narrow jawline. He wore a fitted linen blazer over a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and carried a leather satchel slung across one shoulder. His gait was relaxed, almost theatrical, as if the crowded street were a stage built just for him.

  “A foreigner?” the boy thought, his attention caught before the man had even opened his mouth.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  “Oh my, Ninel-san! What a lovely surprise! Good evening to you!” the man called out in fluent but distinctly accented Japanese, his face lighting up the moment he spotted her.

  The maid stopped and offered a polite bow, a warm smile replacing her usual composure.

  “Good evening, Santoni-sama. It is good to see you as well.”

  “Please, I keep telling you, just Théodore is fine,” the man insisted with a dramatic sigh, though the humor never left his eyes. “I just came back from my publisher. They approved the new cover, and I must say, they were absolutely enchanted. I could not have done it without you.”

  A faint blush crept across Ninel’s cheeks, barely visible but unmistakable to anyone standing close enough.

  “You are too kind. I did not do much,” she replied, her tone a touch more reserved than before.

  The man reached into his satchel and produced a small bouquet of white and violet flowers, presenting them with a slight bow.

  “A humble token of my gratitude. And do not sell yourself short,” he continued as she accepted the bouquet with both hands.

  Behind her, Ryūta raised an eyebrow but kept quiet.

  “I have drawn plenty of women before, but none of them captured the essence I was looking for. There is something rare about you, Ninel-san. The way you carried yourself, your composure, your elegance, and yet beneath all of that...” He paused, choosing his words with a novelist’s care. “The glimpse you allowed me was more honest than anything I could have imagined on my own. My editor was speechless when she saw the final piece.”

  He trailed off. His eyes had finally wandered past the maid’s shoulder and landed on the boy.

  The silence that followed lasted roughly two seconds, but felt considerably longer.

  Théodore straightened his collar, a faint flush spreading across his cheeks.

  “A-Ah, forgive me, I did not notice you there. I am Théodore Santoni. A pleasure,” he said, extending his hand with a smile that was trying very hard to look natural.

  “Kagayaki Ryūta,” the boy replied, shaking it.

  The man held the handshake a beat longer than necessary, glancing between the two of them with a polite but unmistakably curious expression. Whatever conclusion he reached, he kept it to himself.

  “Well then,” Théodore said, clearing his throat as he adjusted his satchel strap. “I have taken up enough of your evening, and I still have an entire manuscript to wrestle with before midnight. If you would excuse me...”

  He gave another small bow, flashed a final smile at Ninel, and continued on his way, disappearing into the crowd with the same effortless stride that had announced his arrival.

  For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. Ryūta’s gaze lingered on the spot where the man had been, and curiosity gnawed at him. Who was he? How did they know each other? And what exactly had happened between them? The questions sat on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them. It wasn’t his place to pry.

  As they resumed walking, the boy kept his gaze forward. He had no intention of asking, but apparently his face had other plans.

  “You are wondering,” Ninel said quietly.

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “Only to me.” She went quiet for a moment, then continued. “He is a French novelist. We run into each other nearly every day, usually at the market or on the street. He is...” She paused, searching for the right word. “Very kind.”

  He nodded, expecting that to be the end of it, but after a few more steps, she spoke again, her voice slightly smaller than before.

  “He asked me to model for his book cover and I agreed.”

  Ryūta glanced at her. A faint pink had settled across her cheeks as she kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

  He didn’t push further. He simply nodded and shifted the shopping bag to his other hand.

  They walked on for a few more steps before the maid peeked at him from the corner of her eye. Whatever she found there made her lips curl into a faint, knowing smile.

  “He is also happily married. His wife is expecting their second child.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” the boy replied, a little too fast.

  “Of course not,” she said softly, letting out a quiet chuckle.

  But as he looked at the small bouquet resting in the crook of her arm, he couldn’t help but notice how carefully she held it, as if it were something precious and fragile, something she wasn’t entirely used to receiving.

  They were less than ten minutes from the tower when it happened.

  Two men in dark suits approached from ahead and walked past them. There was nothing remarkable about their appearance. Clean-shaven, well-dressed, moving at an unhurried pace. The kind of people one might pass a hundred times without ever noticing.

  Ninel didn’t even glance at them.

  Ryūta, however, stopped dead in his tracks.

  It came without warning. A wave of cold dread crashed over him, so sudden and so overwhelming that his legs buckled. His knees hit the pavement before he even realized he was falling. The shopping bag slipped from his fingers and toppled onto its side, scattering a few loose items across the sidewalk.

  His heart hammered against his ribs. Sweat broke out across his forehead, his neck and the palms of his hands. Every nerve in his body urged him to run, yet he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even breathe.

  “What... is happening to me...?”

  His trembling fingers pressed against the concrete as he forced himself to turn his head.

  The two men were already some distance away. One of them glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes meeting Ryūta’s for a fraction of a second. The stare was hollow, devoid of any warmth, like looking into the eyes of something that had long since stopped being human. Beside him, the other wore a thin, crooked grin that made the boy’s stomach twist.

  Then they turned the corner, and the feeling began to fade.

  It didn’t vanish entirely. A faint residue clung to his chest, heavy and suffocating, like smoke trapped in a sealed room. But at least he could breathe again.

  “Ryūta-sama!”

  Ninel was already kneeling beside him, one hand on his shoulder, the other reaching for his face. Her gray-blue eyes searched his with an urgency he had rarely seen from her.

  “What happened? Are you hurt? Let me see your face!”

  The boy swallowed hard. His throat felt like sandpaper.

  “Those men... I could feel it. They weren’t just dangerous. They were evil. The kind of people who have taken lives and felt nothing.”

  He couldn’t tell her that. Not there, not after the peaceful afternoon they had just shared.

  “I’m fine,” he managed, forcing a weak smile. “Just a stomach cramp hit me out of nowhere.”

  The maid studied his face for a long moment. Her hand remained on his shoulder, steady and warm.

  She probably didn’t believe him. He could see it in the way her brow tightened, in the way her lips pressed together just slightly before she chose not to speak. But she respected his silence, the same way he had respected hers all those times before.

  “Can you stand?” she asked instead.

  “Yeah. Give me a second.”

  She helped him to his feet, then crouched to gather the scattered groceries. By the time everything was back in the bag, the color had returned to his face, though his hands still trembled slightly when he took it from her.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence. Ninel stayed close, her shoulder nearly brushing his, as if ready to catch him should he falter again.

  Ryūta kept his gaze forward, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

  “That wasn’t a coincidence. Whatever I just felt... it was real. And it was coming from them.”

  The feeling didn’t go away overnight, leaving the boy barely able to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, the hollow stare of the suited man flashed behind his lids. By morning, the dread had dulled to a low hum at the base of his skull, but it was enough to keep him on edge.

  When Ninel arrived and began her usual routine, Ryūta made a decision. He wasn’t going to let her walk the streets alone. Not until he understood what had happened the day before.

  “I think I’ll tag along again today,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. “Sitting indoors all day makes me restless.”

  The maid looked up from the counter where she was folding a cloth.

  “Two days in a row? That is unlike you, Ryūta-sama.”

  “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.”

  She studied him for a moment, then smiled.

  “Very well. I only need to pick up a few things.”

  The morning passed without incident. The streets were quieter than the day before, the crowds thinner. She went about her errands with the same efficiency as always, while the boy stayed close, scanning every face that passed without making it obvious. Nothing felt off. No sudden chills, no invisible pressure bearing down on him. Just an ordinary day in an ordinary city.

  He was beginning to wonder if he had overreacted when a voice cut through the ambient noise.

  “Well, well, isn’t that Ninel?”

  No honorific. No warmth. Just her name, spoken the way someone might read a label off a shelf.

  Ryūta’s eyes snapped toward the source.

  A heavyset man stood a few meters ahead of them, blocking most of the sidewalk with his frame alone. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and thick around the middle, with a fleshy face and small, deep-set eyes that gleamed with an unsettling familiarity. His thinning hair was slicked back, an expensive-looking overcoat straining at the buttons. A gold watch peeked out from beneath one sleeve.

  The boy’s stomach tightened. There was no supernatural dread, not like the day before, but something about the man set every instinct he had on fire.

  “Who the hell is this guy...?”

  Ninel had stopped walking. The color drained from her face.

  “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” the man continued, his lips stretching into a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “Five years, give or take? My, how time flies.”

  The girl didn’t respond. She stood perfectly still, the shopping bag clutched tight against her chest.

  The man took a step closer, his gaze sliding down from her face, over her uniform, all the way to her feet, then back up again. Slowly. Deliberately.

  “You’ve certainly grown since then. In every respect.” His grin widened. “Let me get a proper look at you.”

  Without a shred of hesitation, he reached out and grabbed her rear.

  That was all Ryūta could take.

  His hand shot forward and seized the man’s wrist, wrenching it away with enough force to make the stranger’s smirk falter.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” the boy snarled, his grip tightening. “Touch her again and I’ll rip your arm off!”

  The man’s surprise lasted less than a second. His expression hardened, and he looked down at Ryūta with the lazy contempt of someone swatting at a fly.

  “Hey, kid. You sure you want to talk to me like that?”

  “Damn right I do! I can handle a rat like you just fine!”

  The stranger’s jaw clenched. His free hand curled into a fist, knuckles whitening, and for a moment it seemed certain he would swing.

  Then a trembling hand wrapped around the boy’s wrist.

  “Ryūta-sama, please stop... everything is fine...”

  Ninel’s voice was barely above a whisper, but the boy heard every syllable. He turned to her, and what he saw only made him angrier. She was pale, her lips pressed thin, her fingers shaking against his skin.

  “Like hell it’s fine! Look at yourself! You’re trembling, and he just put his hands on you like he owns you!”

  “Ryūta-sama!”

  He froze.

  In all the time he had known her, she had never once raised her voice at him. The sound of it, sharp and sudden, struck him harder than any punch could have.

  She seemed to realize it too. She softened, though her hand remained firm on his wrist.

  “Everything is fine,” she repeated, quieter. “Please. Let us speak alone for a moment.”

  Ryūta’s hands curled into fists. His whole body screamed at him to refuse. But the look in her eyes, steady despite the fear, left no room for argument.

  He released the man’s wrist. Slowly. His glare, however, didn’t waver.

  “I’m not going far,” he said, his voice low and controlled, though the fury behind it was anything but. “Try anything, and you’ll regret it.”

  The stranger said nothing. He simply straightened his sleeve and watched the boy walk away with the same lazy, infuriating grin.

  Ryūta stopped a good distance away, far enough to give them space, close enough to see everything. He leaned against a railing, arms crossed, his eyes locked on the pair.

  He couldn’t hear a word. The man was doing most of the talking, gesturing occasionally, his posture relaxed and confident. At one point, he reached into his coat and pulled out what appeared to be a photograph. He held it up for Ninel to see.

  The maid’s shoulders tensed. Even from that distance, the boy could see her flinch.

  The conversation went on for another minute, maybe two. Then the girl’s head dropped. Her arms fell to her sides. Whatever fight she might have had left, it was gone.

  She walked back to the boy with measured steps, her expression carefully blank.

  “Ryūta-sama, I have something I need to attend to. Please, go back without me,” she said, pressing the shopping bag into his hands.

  “You can’t be serious...”

  “I am.” A faint smile crossed her lips, hollow and rehearsed. “Please, trust me. Everything will be fine.”

  He wanted to argue. He wanted to grab her hand and drag her back to the tower, away from that man and whatever hold he had over her. But the look on her face told him she had already made up her mind, and that pushing further would only make things worse.

  “All right...” he sighed, taking the bag from her hands, the word heavy on his tongue.

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  Ninel gave a small bow and turned away. She walked back toward the man, who was waiting with his hands in his pockets. As she reached him, his arm slid around her shoulders and pulled her close, possessive and deliberate.

  Ryūta watched them until they rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

  Then he turned to the concrete wall beside him and drove his fist into it. Again. And again. And again.

  “Damn it... Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

  The skin on his knuckles split, smearing blood across the gray surface. He didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel anything except the suffocating helplessness that he knew all too well.

  He stood there, breathing hard, his forehead pressed against the wall, until his voice finally gave out and the street fell silent around him.

  When he made it back to the tower, his right hand was a mess. The knuckles were raw and swollen, the skin torn in several places, blood drying in dark streaks between his fingers. He hadn’t bothered to wipe it off or even look at it. He barely cared.

  The hallway on his floor was quiet. He kept his head down and walked toward his door, hoping to slip inside unnoticed.

  “Ryūta! Welcome back!”

  Sanae’s voice rang out from behind him, bright and cheerful, the kind that would have lifted his spirits on any other day. Perhaps she had been waiting for him, hoping to do just that. But her timing couldn’t have been worse.

  The boy stopped but didn’t turn around. He could hear her footsteps approaching, quick and light.

  “Hey, I was thinking we could all have dinner toge...”

  The words died in her throat when she saw his hand.

  “Ryūta, your hand...! What happened?”

  He finally glanced at her over his shoulder. His eyes were hollow, emptied of everything. No anger, no sadness, just a flat, distant stare that made the girl take half a step back.

  “Nothing…” he said, his voice hardly audible.

  Before she could respond, he turned away, pushed open his door, and disappeared inside.

  The apartment was dark. He didn’t bother with the lights. He dropped the shopping bag on the table, then crossed the room in a few steps. He sank onto the edge of his bed, motionless, staring at the floor between his feet.

  The silence pressed in from every direction.

  “I’ve been here before. Sitting in the same spot, feeling the same thing. When they dropped Hime’s case, I was no different. I stared at nothing, unable to do a damn thing. I’m still useless. Nothing has changed.”

  He didn’t know how long he sat there. Minutes, maybe longer. Eventually, the door opened. It was so quiet he barely registered it, just the faintest click of the handle, followed by soft footsteps across the floor. He didn’t look up. He already knew it wasn’t Ninel.

  When he finally raised his gaze, he saw Sanae kneeling in front of him. In one hand she held a warm, damp cloth. In the other, she gently took his injured fist.

  “Come on, let me see...”

  She didn’t ask anything. She didn’t push. She simply unwrapped his fingers one by one, cleaned the torn skin with careful, practiced movements, and began winding a bandage around his knuckles. Her hands were steady, though her lips were pressed tight, and the boy could tell she was holding back far more than just questions.

  When she finished and tucked the end of the bandage in place, she looked up at him.

  “What happened?”

  Ryūta still couldn’t meet her eyes. His gaze drifted to the side, fixed on nothing in particular.

  “I’m sorry...” he murmured, on the verge of tears. “I’ll pull myself together in a moment... Just... could you stay with me until then?”

  Sanae didn’t press any further. She simply nodded.

  “Yes.”

  She sat down beside him on the bed and gently rested her head against his shoulder. Neither of them spoke. The room stayed dark, and the silence between them held a warmth that words would have only ruined.

  The next morning, Ninel didn’t come.

  Ryūta sat at his desk, textbook open, pen in hand, but his eyes kept drifting to the door. The usual time came and went. No knock, no quiet greeting, no sound of the handle turning. Just the faint hum of the city outside and the slow ticking of the clock on the wall.

  He told himself not to worry. She had said everything would be fine. He had chosen to trust her, and he intended to keep that promise, even if it gnawed at him from the inside.

  By midday, he picked up his phone. His fingers moved on their own, typing out a short message.

  “Is everything all right?”

  He stared at it for a long time. The cursor blinked at the end of the sentence, patient and indifferent.

  But in the end, he erased it, set the phone facedown on the desk, and went back to staring at a page he hadn’t turned in over an hour.

  The afternoon dragged into evening. Sanae stopped by with a pot of curry and offered to have dinner together. He accepted, because turning her down would have worried her more than his silence already had. After she left, he sat at the kitchen table for a long time, looking at the empty bowl in his hands.

  He tried studying again, but the numbers blurred. He eventually gave up.

  Somewhere past midnight, exhaustion finally won, pulling him under without warning or mercy.

  When the alarm dragged him back, gray light filled the room. He showered, dressed, and sat down at his desk out of habit more than purpose. The phone still lay facedown where he had left it. He didn’t touch it.

  The familiar knock came at the usual time. When Ryūta opened the door, Ninel stood on the threshold in her uniform, neat and composed. The tension in his chest loosened at the sight of her.

  “Ninel-san!”

  “Good morning, Ryūta-sama,” the maid replied with a small bow.

  “Are you all right? I was worried.”

  “Yes. I apologize for my absence yesterday. My duties elsewhere took longer than I expected.”

  Something about the way she delivered those last words made him pause. The line was too smooth, too measured. No hesitation, no stumble, just a clean, practiced answer that came a little too easily.

  “She’s lying.”

  He couldn’t explain how he knew. It wasn’t anything visible, not a twitch, not a tell. It was something deeper. A sense that had been sharpening inside him for weeks. He had been picking up on things he shouldn’t have been able to. Sanae’s little schemes, the half-truths people told in passing, the gap between what someone said and what they actually meant. It unsettled him, but he couldn’t deny it was there.

  Still, he chose not to press.

  “Don’t apologize,” he said, moving aside to let her in. He let out a slow breath before continuing. “Just... let me know next time. A message, a call, anything. I don’t need to know the details. I just want to know you’re safe.”

  Ninel paused in the doorway. For a brief moment, something flickered behind her eyes, too fast to name, gone before it could take shape.

  “I will. Thank you, Ryūta-sama.”

  She stepped inside and within minutes, the apartment filled with the quiet sounds of her routine.

  Everything was back to normal. Or at least, it was meant to look that way.

  The first thing he noticed was the way she moved.

  She had always been graceful. Everything she did carried a quiet precision that made even the simplest task look effortless.

  But that morning, something was different.

  When she bent down to pick up a cloth she had dropped, her body stiffened halfway through the motion. She paused, adjusted her stance, and completed it slowly, carefully, as if protecting something underneath.

  The boy said nothing. He turned his gaze back to his textbook and pretended to read.

  A while later, she brought him tea. As she set the cup on his desk, he got a closer look at her face, and the second irregularity became impossible to ignore.

  She was wearing makeup. Not much by most standards, but for her, it was glaring. A layer of foundation smoothed over her cheeks and jawline, and a touch of concealer sat beneath her eyes. The coverage was skillful, almost undetectable to anyone who didn’t know her well.

  But Ryūta did. He wrapped his fingers around the warm cup and stared at the steam rising from its surface.

  “Thank you, Ninel-san.”

  “Of course, Ryūta-sama.”

  She returned to her tasks. The boy watched her from the corner of his eye, cataloging every wince she tried to hide, every stiff motion she disguised with a longer pause. He waited for her to say something, anything. But she never did.

  The doorbell broke the silence roughly an hour later.

  “I’ll get it,” Ryūta said, rising from his chair before the maid could reach the door.

  Sanae stood in the hallway, beaming as usual, a small paper bag tucked under one arm.

  “Hey! I brought some of those cookies from the shop downstairs. The ones with the white chocolate? I figured we could all share!”

  “Thanks. Come in,” the boy replied, forcing a smile as he stepped aside. It took the girl less than a second to realize it wasn’t genuine.

  She set the bag on the table and glanced around the room. Ninel was in the kitchen, wiping down the counter with her back turned. Nothing seemed out of place, but she could feel it.

  “All right, spill it,” Sanae said quietly, pulling Ryūta aside. “Something’s off. I can tell.”

  The boy hesitated. He looked toward the kitchen, then back at the girl standing in front of him.

  “It’s Ninel-san,” he said, keeping his voice low. “She’s been acting strange since she came back.”

  “Strange how?”

  “She’s wearing makeup.”

  Sanae blinked.

  “So?”

  “She never wears makeup. Not once, the entire time I’ve known her.” He paused, weighing his next words. “And she can barely bend down without wincing. Every time she thinks I’m not looking, her whole body tenses up.”

  The girl’s expression shifted. The cheerfulness drained from her face, replaced by something sharper, harder. Her eyes darted toward the kitchen, then back to the boy.

  “How long has she been like this?” she asked.

  “Since she walked in.”

  “And you didn’t say anything?”

  “I was waiting for her to tell me herself.”

  Sanae stared at him for a long moment. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and marched straight into the kitchen.

  “Ninel-san, come with me for a second.”

  The maid looked up, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.

  “Is something the matter, Sanae-sama?”

  “Just come.”

  Before she could protest, Sanae had already taken her by the hand and was pulling her toward the bathroom. The door shut behind them with a firm click.

  Ryūta stood in the middle of the room, his arms hanging at his sides. The apartment fell quiet again, save for the muffled sound of voices behind the closed door.

  The only thing that came through clearly was Sanae’s scream.

  He was across the room before the echo faded. He threw open the door and stepped inside.

  “What happened?!”

  The scene before him stopped him cold.

  Ninel sat on the tiled floor, her uniform pulled down to her waist, clutching her arms over her chest, trying to shield what little dignity she had left. She didn’t look up. Her gaze was fixed on some invisible point on the ground, hollow and distant.

  Sanae knelt beside her, one hand still covering her mouth, tears streaming silently down her cheeks. When her eyes met Ryūta’s, they held no words, only a desperate, pleading look that begged him to do something, anything.

  The boy’s gaze fell to the maid’s exposed skin.

  Fresh cuts lined her torso. Some were shallow, barely more than scratches. Others were deeper, crusted with dried blood, their edges swollen and raw. They overlapped with the older scars he had heard about but never seen, layered on top of pale, faded marks that told a much longer story.

  His stomach turned. His jaw locked. For a moment, rage and horror fought for control of his face, twisting his expression into something unrecognizable.

  But then he caught himself. He couldn’t fall apart. Not there, not then. If he did, no one would be left to hold them together.

  He exhaled. Slowly. Deliberately. And with that single breath, he forced everything down.

  He covered the remaining distance, knelt beside the two girls, and wrapped his arms around both of them. He pulled them close without a word, cradling both their heads against his shoulders.

  Sanae buried her face in the hollow of his neck, holding back her sobs. She could feel the other girl trembling beside her, and she understood. Her own pain was small compared to what Ninel had to endure.

  None of them spoke. The only sounds were the maid’s shallow, unsteady breaths and the faint drip of the faucet behind them. They stayed like that, the three of them tangled together on the cold bathroom floor, until the trembling finally began to subside.

  Some time later, the bedroom door clicked shut, and Sanae emerged into the living room.

  She looked tired. Her eyes were red, her shoulders heavy, but her hands were steady. She had done what needed to be done.

  Ryūta was sitting at the table, waiting. He looked up as the girl pulled out the chair across from him and sank into it.

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “I treated the cuts she couldn’t reach on her own. She’s resting.” Sanae paused, then added quietly, “Sleeping, I think.”

  “I see.”

  Silence settled between them. Neither reached for words. The apartment felt too still, too empty, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

  Sanae was the first to break.

  “Who could do something like that?” Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “What kind of monster would hurt her that way?”

  Ryūta didn’t answer right away. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a long moment before lowering his gaze to meet hers.

  “Someone from her past.”

  The girl frowned, confusion clouding her features.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You saw the scars on her body, right? Some of them were years old. The new ones look the same. The same kind of cuts, the same places.” He gave her a moment to process. “Whoever did that to her before came back and did it again.”

  Suddenly, the door opened.

  Ninel stood in the frame, one hand gripping the edge for support. She had pulled her uniform back on, though it hung unevenly on her shoulders, hastily fastened. Every step she took into the room was slow, deliberate, and visibly painful.

  She spoke before either of them could tell her to go back to bed.

  “It is as you said.” Her voice was steady, though stripped of its usual warmth. “Another master of mine did it.”

  The boy turned in his chair.

  “Another master? What do you mean?”

  The maid lowered her gaze.

  “Ryūta-sama, do you remember when I told you that I cannot choose who I serve?”

  “Y-yeah.”

  “The same applies to how many.” A brief silence followed. “I serve multiple masters at once. You are but one of them.”

  Ryūta and Sanae exclaimed at once.

  “Multiple masters?!”

  Ninel gave a small nod.

  “Yes. The first of them was also the worst of all. And he has returned.”

  Sanae leaned forward, her voice cracking.

  “Can’t anything be done? There has to be something!”

  Ryūta said nothing. His jaw tightened, but he kept still. He already had a feeling where the answer was headed.

  “No. I must fulfill every wish of every master I am assigned to. That includes his,” the maid replied, then glanced at the boy. “Just as it includes yours, Ryūta-sama.”

  Sanae jumped from her chair, tears spilling over.

  “But Ryūta would never do anything like that to you!”

  Ninel didn’t flinch. She held the girl’s gaze with a calm that bordered on resignation.

  “He would have every right to. And if he did, I would not be allowed to say a word against it.” Her voice dropped. “Not until I am free.”

  The words hung in the air. Sanae sank back into her chair, her mouth open but soundless. She understood the meaning, but her mind refused to accept it.

  Then it was Ryūta who rose to his feet. His eyes burned with something fierce and unshakable as he looked into the maid’s.

  “Just tell me what I need to do and I swear I’ll do it. I’ll set you free. I won’t let anyone lay a hand on you ever again!”

  Ninel’s composure wavered. For a fleeting moment, gratitude broke through her mask, raw and unguarded. But it faded just as quickly.

  “Thank you. Truly,” she whispered. “But there is nothing you can do until I have repaid my debt.”

  “What debt?” the boy pressed.

  “Please, Ninel-san, tell us what’s going on,” Sanae added, her voice still shaking.

  The maid looked at them both for a long moment. Then, with a slow, resigned breath, she answered.

  “Very well. As my master and my friend, you have the right to know.”

  They moved to the bed. Ninel sat against the headboard, a pillow propped behind her back. Sanae settled beside her, close but careful not to touch. Ryūta took the edge of the mattress across from them, his elbows resting on his knees.

  The maid folded her hands in her lap, and after a long, quiet breath, she began.

  “For as long as I can remember, I lived with my grandfather. I have no memory of my parents. But that never bothered me. My grandfather was an incredibly kind man, and he loved me more than anything in the world.”

  Her voice was calm, measured, as if she were reading aloud from a book about someone else’s life.

  “However, his life had a darker side. He was the head of a small organization. Not powerful, not feared. They mostly provided personal protection and lived off the income it brought in. They never forced their services on anyone. They did not deal in weapons or drugs, and they never harmed anyone without reason.”

  “What happened to them?” Sanae asked softly.

  Ninel paused. Her fingers tightened around each other.

  “One of their assignments went terribly wrong. They were supposed to guard a valuable shipment, but they lost it. The client blamed my grandfather and demanded full compensation. When he could not pay, the client turned to a rival organization. They killed everyone who refused to switch sides.”

  The boy’s voice was low.

  “And your grandfather?”

  Her gaze dropped to her hands.

  “After they violated me in front of him, they killed him too.”

  The room went cold. Sanae’s breath caught in her throat. Ryūta’s fingers dug into his knees, but he didn’t speak. He let her continue.

  “I was fourteen when they sold me into service and I ended up here.” She closed her eyes briefly. “That was five years ago. Since then, I have spent every day serving the needs of men and women, doing whatever was asked of me, while fighting to stay alive.”

  Silence followed. The boy stared at the floor between his feet, piecing together what he had seen with what he had just heard. The old scars, the fresh cuts, the way she had surrendered to that man on the street without a fight. It all added up to one conclusion.

  “That fat bastard from yesterday...”

  Ninel lowered her eyes and nodded.

  Ryūta’s fists clenched so tight his bandaged knuckles throbbed. His face twisted with a fury that was aimed in two directions. At the man who had done it, and at himself for letting it happen.

  “That son of a... I should have killed him right then and there!”

  “Please,” she said quickly, alarm breaking through her composure for the first time, “do not try to stand in his way! He is extremely dangerous!”

  “Then what do you expect me to do?!” He shot to his feet, his voice raw and desperate. “Sit back and watch while he hurts you?!”

  “I made a deal with him!” The maid’s voice hardened. “As long as I do what he says, he will not harm you!”

  The boy went still. The words hit him like a wall, and for a second he just stood there, processing. Then his expression shattered.

  “What...? You’re telling me he’s using me to blackmail you?” His voice cracked. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “I have no choice regardless! And at least this way...”

  “The hell you don’t!”

  Ninel flinched. Sanae sat frozen beside her, pale and trembling, drowning in everything.

  The maid tried once more, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “You do not have to understand. I only ask that you accept it.”

  But Ryūta’s whole body was already shaking, and eventually, he snapped, yelling at her.

  “I won’t understand it, and I won’t accept it either! Nobody asked you to make that sacrifice!”

  Ninel didn’t answer. She pressed her back against the headboard, her gaze cast down, hands and lips trembling.

  The silence that followed was unbearable. Ryūta stood there, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides, until the fire in him burned low enough for him to speak without shouting.

  “Sanae,” he said quietly, not looking at either of them, “could you stay with her? I need to clear my head.”

  The girl blinked, pulled herself out of the haze, then nodded.

  “Yes.”

  Without another word, the boy walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him.

  He crossed the hallway as fast as he could and jabbed the doorbell to Nao’s apartment. Over and over again. After the fifth time, he lost count.

  Finally, the door swung open.

  “All right, all right, I’m here!” the president snapped, one hand still holding a half-eaten rice cracker. “What happened that’s so urg—“

  She trailed off. Ryūta stood before her, his expression stripped of everything but grim resolve. He didn’t greet her. He just looked her in the eye and spoke.

  “I’m sorry. It’s about Ninel-san. She’s in serious trouble.”

  The irritation vanished from Nao’s face. She swallowed the bite still in her mouth, studied him for a beat, then stepped aside.

  “Come in.”

  It was the first time Ryūta had set foot in her apartment. Under normal circumstances, he might have taken a moment to look around, but the space barely registered. He caught a vague impression of bookshelves, a modest kitchen, a desk cluttered with papers, but none of it mattered.

  They sat across from each other at a small table. Nao folded her hands and listened without interrupting as the boy laid it all out. The suited men, the Russian man, what he had done to Ninel, and everything that followed.

  When he finished, the girl said nothing for a while. Her face betrayed no shock, no disbelief. If anything, she looked as if she had been expecting something like that for a long time.

  Then she gave an answer he wasn’t prepared for.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do.”

  Ryūta’s jaw went slack.

  “What? How can you say that?! We’re talking about Ninel-san! Our friend!”

  “Hear me out.”

  The boy clenched his teeth and forced himself to sit still.

  “Ninel doesn’t officially belong to us,” Nao began, her tone careful and measured. “She’s employed by an organization that operates independently from the tower. Besides you, she’s assigned to several other people, and she’s obligated to fulfill their every request.”

  “You knew about that the whole time? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

  “It wasn’t relevant.”

  “Not relevant?! She’s being abused!”

  The president held his gaze, unflinching.

  “As long as the abuse doesn’t prevent Ninel from serving her other clients or threaten her life, they are within their rights. I warned you once before, Ryūta-kun. The underworld plays by a completely different set of rules.”

  The boy’s fists tightened on the table. He wanted to scream, to flip the table, to do anything other than sit there and accept what she was telling him. But somewhere beneath the fury, he understood. And that was the worst part.

  “If Ninel is still able to carry out her duties,” Nao continued, “then the situation isn’t considered severe enough for us to intervene without permission. The only options we have are to wait and gather evidence, or try to negotiate with the person responsible. Either way, it would cost a great deal.”

  Ryūta shot to his feet.

  “If it’s about money, I’ll pay it back! I’ll find a way, whatever it takes, you have my word!”

  “Money is the least of our concerns. If we’re not careful, we’ll make enemies, and that puts you and Sanae at risk.”

  “I’ll take that risk!”

  “I won’t!”

  “But—!”

  “No buts!” The president’s voice cut through the room. “If you want to do something about it, you’re on your own! I can’t give you my approval.”

  Ryūta fell silent. He slowly sank back into his chair, his eyes dropping to the table. Several seconds passed before he spoke again, quieter, but no less determined.

  “Fine. But at least give me a hint.”

  Nao’s posture relaxed slightly. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

  “The first and most important thing is to get Ninel to cooperate. As long as she accepts her situation, there’s no point in even trying.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “Trust clearly isn’t the issue. She wouldn’t put herself in danger for your sake if she didn’t trust you. The problem is that Ninel has grown so used to not being treated as a person that it doesn’t bother her anymore. No matter how much you care about her, she no longer minds when others don’t, and until that changes, she won’t ask for help either.”

  “So I just need to make her value herself more?”

  “It takes more than that. You need to break her.”

  The boy blinked.

  “Break her? What do you mean?”

  “You’ve already proven to Ninel that you’re a good person. She prefers serving you over anyone else. But she still doesn’t know what she means to you.”

  “I don’t follow. She’s obviously my friend.”

  “You may think so, but is that really the case? Have you ever asked her a single personal question?” The president paused, letting the silence do its work. “Do you even know her favorite color?”

  It took only those two questions for everything to click into place. Ryūta stared at Nao, his lips slightly parted, his mind racing.

  “She’s right. What an idiot I’ve been... I always tried to treat her with respect, so I never asked about her past. But if I think about it, I barely know anything about her. From her perspective, it probably looks like I don’t care at all. No wonder she won’t ask me for help.”

  A knowing smile spread across the president’s face.

  “It seems you’ve figured it out.”

  “I think so. But I still don’t know what to do.”

  “Get her to open up. To pour out everything she’s been keeping inside, her past, her pain, the real person she’s been trying so hard to hide. And when she does, accept her for who she is.”

  “But how?”

  “Nothing could be simpler. You’re one of her masters, and she trusts you. All you have to do is ask.”

  Ryūta’s eyes lit up. He sprang to his feet and headed for the door.

  “Thank you, Prez!”

  “Ryūta-kun!” Nao called after him. The boy stopped and looked back. “What I said earlier, about not being willing to take the risk, wasn’t true. I just wanted you to think things through calmly and understand what we’re up against.”

  “I know.”

  “And one more thing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re not at school. Are you sure you still want to call me Prez?”

  A grin flashed across Ryūta’s face.

  “Then thanks, Naonon!”

  “Nao—“ The girl flinched, a rush of color flooding her cheeks.

  “Just kidding, Nao-san.”

  The door clicked shut behind him. She sat alone at the table, her blush still lingering, and let out a quiet laugh.

  “Someone’s gotten cheeky...” she murmured to herself, then added with a smile, “You’re welcome anytime.”

  When the boy stepped back into his apartment, Sanae was already on her feet, waiting.

  “So? Did you figure something out?” she asked.

  “A lot, actually,” Ryūta replied, his voice steadier than it had been all day. “I need to talk to Ninel-san alone. Would you mind giving us some time?”

  The girl searched his face for a moment, then nodded.

  “Okay. I’ll be at my place if you need me.”

  She gave his arm a brief squeeze before slipping out. The door clicked shut behind her, and silence reclaimed the room.

  The maid was still sitting on the bed, exactly where he had left her, her hands clasped together in her lap. She didn’t look up when he entered.

  He stopped in front of her. For a while, neither of them spoke. Then, with a quiet sigh, he began.

  “Ninel-san... I really can’t just leave you to your fate. So please, don’t do this foolishness. Not for us.”

  “It is not foolish, Ryūta-sama,” she replied, her gaze still lowered. “If I do what he asks, he will leave you alone.”

  “We can figure out another way. Trust me. We’ll catch that bastard somehow, and you won’t have to suffer anymore.”

  Something shifted behind the girl’s eyes. She wanted to believe him. He could see it in the way her fingers tightened around each other, in the faint tremor that passed through her shoulders. But wanting and believing were not the same thing.

  “Would you truly go that far for me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” the boy said without hesitation.

  “Even if you knew what I really am?”

  “Even then.”

  The maid rose from the bed. She walked to the window and touched the glass panel, dimming it until the room settled into a soft, muted light.

  “Ninel-san...?”

  “Then let me show you.”

  She turned to face him. Slowly, deliberately, her fingers moved to the top button of her uniform and undid it. Then the next. And the next. The fabric parted and slid from her shoulders, pooling at her feet.

  She stood before him in nothing but black lace lingerie. Surprise flickered across Ryūta’s face, but he didn’t look away.

  The girl began to close the distance between them. One step, then another. The boy instinctively backed up, but she kept coming, steady and unhurried, until the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed and he dropped onto it. Her chest was level with his eyes. He didn’t retreat any further.

  Ninel gently took his hand and placed it against her waist.

  His fingers brushed her skin. He could feel the ridges beneath them, raised lines of scar tissue running across her side.

  “A kitchen knife,” she said quietly. “They did it for fun, shortly after I was sold.”

  Before he could respond, she guided his hand lower, toward her navel. Another scar, wider, rougher.

  “I accidentally broke one of my master’s prized trophies. As punishment, they stripped me and beat me with a whip.”

  She lifted his other hand and pressed it gently against her sternum, just between her breasts. Parallel lines carved into the skin, unmistakable even by touch.

  “These were left by a woman’s nails. She blamed me for her husband’s perversions.”

  Then she raised one leg onto the bed beside him, bringing the inside of her thigh close to his face. Mottled patches of skin marked the surface, scattered among bruises and bite marks in varying stages of healing.

  “Burns. Hot wax, heated metal and lighters.” A faint, broken smile crossed her lips. “I eventually learned to enjoy some of it. I had to make peace with the pain so I wouldn’t fall apart. Sometimes I even asked for it, because it was the only time I didn’t feel empty.”

  She leaned closer, planting her knee on the mattress between his legs, her body curving over his. Ryūta leaned back, but she followed, narrowing the gap until her face hovered just above his own.

  “I have been violated more times than I can count, and I have done shameful things of my own free will as well. All to give my life some kind of meaning.” Her breath was warm against his skin. “That is what I am, Ryūta-sama.” She drew closer still, her lips nearly grazing his. “So tell me... do you still want to save me?”

  The boy’s heart was pounding. His back was pressed flat against the mattress, and every nerve in his body screamed at him to do something. But his eyes never left hers.

  “Please, answer me, Ryūta-sama...” she whispered, her voice trembling between a plea and a sigh.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were clear, focused, and unwavering.

  “Yes,” he said. “Because that’s not who you are.”

  Ninel froze.

  “Maybe that’s who you were once. But the person I know isn’t any of that, and I don’t care about what came before.” He began to sit up, slowly, gently pushing her back. “The Ninel-san I know cures my hangovers, writes kind messages inside my sandwiches, embroiders handkerchiefs for me, and is one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

  The girl’s mask shattered. Tears spilled from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks faster than her hands could catch them.

  Ryūta straightened fully, his voice growing firmer with every word.

  “I know you’ve been through hell. I thought that if I never asked about your past, it would be easier for you. But I was wrong. I want to know you better, and I want to help carry your burdens. So it’s your turn. Tell me what you want. Don’t hide your feelings from me. Let me be the friend you deserve.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice softened. “Please, help me Ninel, no... Ninushka!”

  The name broke through every wall she had left, and what little remained of her composure collapsed at once. She burst into bitter, heaving sobs.

  “I want to be with you, Ryūta-sama!” she cried, her voice cracking wide open. “I don’t want to serve anyone else! I don’t want to be hurt anymore! I don’t want it to hurt anymore! I want to watch your face in the mornings while you sleep! I want to bake for you with Sanae-sama! I want to talk about girly things with Nao-sama! I want to study with you, go to school and make friends! I want to be valued! I want to be loved!” Her voice rose to a scream, raw and desperate. “Please... please, Ryūta-sama! PLEASE SAVE ME!”

  Ryūta smiled. Gently, he pulled her into his arms and held her close again. Then, he whispered:

  “Finally. You said it.”