The Nakamura estate stood in eerie silence as Haruki stepped through the grand iron gates, the weight of his family’s expectations pressing down on him like an invisible force. The cool evening air did little to calm his nerves as he walked up the stone pathway, his footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestone. The mansion loomed ahead, its tall windows glowing faintly from within, casting long, distorted shadows against the well-manicured garden.
Haruki had been delaying his return for as long as possible, but the moment had finally come. As much as he wished he could avoid it, he knew there was no escaping the inevitable confrontation waiting for him inside.
He exhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of his bag before pushing open the heavy wooden doors. The familiar scent of polished wood and expensive cologne greeted him immediately, along with the suffocating stillness that always seemed to fill the house.
A butler in a black suit appeared in the hallway, bowing slightly as Haruki stepped inside. “Your father is waiting for you in his office, young master.”
Of course he was.
Haruki nodded wordlessly and made his way down the long hallway, the soft glow of chandeliers casting dim pools of light onto the dark wooden floors. The atmosphere was suffocating, as always. The Nakamura estate was massive, filled with endless rooms and halls that seemed to stretch on forever, yet Haruki had never once felt at home here.
Stopping in front of his father’s office, Haruki placed his hand on the doorknob, steeling himself. He had long since learned that entering this room meant stepping into a battlefield—one where words were just as sharp as knives.
With a quiet breath, he turned the handle and stepped inside.
The office was just as he remembered—lined with dark mahogany bookshelves, a grand oak desk at the center, and an air of authority that clung to the walls like a thick fog. Behind the desk, Kenta Nakamura sat, his sharp eyes locking onto Haruki the moment he entered.
The dim lighting did little to soften his father’s features. Kenta was a man who commanded respect without effort, his presence alone enough to silence a room. Dressed in a crisp black suit, he looked as immovable as ever, his expression unreadable.
“Haruki,” Kenta said, his voice low and steady. “You took your time getting home.”
Haruki closed the door behind him, keeping his expression neutral. “I had things to do.”
Kenta’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Things? Or were you simply avoiding your responsibilities?”
Haruki clenched his fists at his sides but forced himself to remain composed. “I haven’t neglected anything.”
Kenta leaned back in his chair, regarding him carefully. “Is that so? Because from what I hear, you’ve been making... interesting choices lately.”
Haruki’s stomach twisted. He knew exactly what this was about. Riku.
His father was never one for small talk. If he had summoned Haruki here, it was because something needed to be addressed—and not in a way Haruki would like.
“I assume Riku has already told you whatever he wanted to tell you,” Haruki said, keeping his voice steady.
Kenta didn’t deny it. Instead, he studied Haruki for a long moment before speaking again. “Riku tells me you’ve been associating with a girl from your school.”
Haruki felt his pulse quicken slightly, though he willed himself not to react. “What I do at school is my business.”
“Not when it affects the family,” Kenta said coldly. “Not when you let yourself become distracted.”
Haruki’s jaw tightened. “She’s not a distraction.”
Kenta’s expression remained unreadable, but something in his gaze darkened. “You say that now. But attachments make people weak, Haruki. They make you vulnerable. And in this world, vulnerability is unacceptable.”
Haruki felt something simmer beneath his skin, a quiet but growing anger. His father had always preached the same philosophy—loyalty above all else, power over sentiment, control over emotion.
“You think I don’t know that?” Haruki said, his voice quieter but no less sharp.
Kenta narrowed his eyes slightly. “Then why are you allowing this girl to get close to you?”
“She’s just a classmate,” Haruki said, though even he knew the words felt hollow.
Kenta studied him for a long moment before sighing. “You were always the sentimental one,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It’s a flaw you’ll have to overcome if you’re ever going to survive in this family.”
Haruki exhaled slowly, willing himself to stay calm. “I’m handling things.”
Kenta regarded him for a moment longer before reaching for a file on his desk. He flipped it open, revealing a series of documents, though Haruki couldn’t see what they contained from where he stood.
“Haruki,” Kenta said, his tone measured. “Do you know why I allow you to remain at that school?”
Haruki frowned slightly at the sudden shift in topic. “Because I asked to stay?”
Kenta smirked faintly, though it held no warmth. “Because I wanted to see if you would prove yourself.”
Haruki’s fingers curled slightly at his sides. “Prove what?”
Kenta closed the file and folded his hands on the desk. “That you could survive in both worlds. That you could be more than just an observer.”
Haruki’s stomach twisted. He didn’t like where this was going.
Kenta’s gaze sharpened. “But instead, you’ve been playing pretend. Hiding. Avoiding. Associating with people who have no place in your life.”
Haruki felt his pulse hammering in his ears, but he refused to let it show. “I told you—I’m handling it.”
Kenta leaned forward slightly, his gaze like ice. “Then start acting like it.”
Silence filled the office, thick with unspoken tension. Haruki held his father’s gaze, refusing to be the first to look away.
Finally, Kenta exhaled slowly. “You can go.”
Haruki didn’t need to be told twice. Without another word, he turned and walked out, closing the door behind him with a quiet click.
The hallway felt colder now, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on his shoulders. He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair as he made his way toward his room.
As he walked, a familiar figure leaned casually against the wall up ahead, arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips.
“Father gave you the speech, huh?” Riku said, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside Haruki.
Haruki didn’t respond, his footsteps steady.
Riku chuckled. “He’s not wrong, you know. You’ve been slipping. Getting too comfortable.”
Haruki clenched his jaw. “Stay out of it, Riku.”
Riku smirked. “Just giving you some brotherly advice.”
Haruki stopped walking, turning to face him. “If you really cared, you wouldn’t be running to Father every time you think I’m stepping out of line.”
Riku’s smirk didn’t waver, but there was something sharper in his eyes now. “Just making sure you remember your place.”
Haruki’s fists clenched, but he forced himself to take a slow breath. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he said coolly. “I know exactly where I stand.”
Riku’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he simply patted Haruki’s shoulder in mock affection before walking past him.
“Good,” Riku murmured as he disappeared down the hallway.
Haruki stood there for a long moment, his heartbeat loud in his ears.
His father’s warning, Riku’s presence, Aoi’s words—they all swirled together, a tangled mess of thoughts and emotions.
He exhaled slowly, then finally turned toward his room, closing the door behind him.
For now, all he could do was wait.