The faint glow of his phone screen was the only source of light in Haruki’s otherwise dark room. The ceiling above him blurred in and out of focus as he lay on his back, staring blankly at the unread messages still sitting in his inbox.
Aoi’s last text was still there.
Aoi: Okay. Then I’ll just stay up, too.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to reply.
He hadn’t expected her to say that. He had expected her to give up, to go to sleep, to do anything other than wait for him.
And yet, she hadn’t.
Haruki let out a slow breath, locking his phone and tossing it onto the bed beside him.
He should sleep.
His body was exhausted, his mind drained, but sleep felt impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw his father’s face, heard Riku’s voice, felt the pressure of a decision he wasn’t ready to make.
He turned onto his side, staring at the piece of paper still sitting on his nightstand. The contact Hideo had given him. The name on it was unfamiliar, but it didn’t need to be. The meaning was the same.
It was a door.
A door leading deeper into the life he had spent years trying to escape.
And the worst part?
He wasn’t sure if he had any other choice but to walk through it.
The first sign that the morning was going to be unbearable was the knock on his door.
Haruki groaned, dragging himself upright as the soft raps echoed through his room. He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the clock—6:02 AM.
Who the hell was waking him up at this hour?
“Haruki,” a voice called from the other side. It was deep, calm, and unmistakable.
Hideo.
Haruki sighed, rubbing his eyes before standing. He crossed the room and opened the door, barely suppressing a yawn as he leaned against the frame. “You’re up early.”
Hideo raised an eyebrow. “You should be, too.”
Haruki gave him a dry look. “What, did my father send you to babysit me?”
“Not quite.” Hideo’s gaze flicked briefly to the inside of the room before settling back on Haruki. “Get dressed. Breakfast is in fifteen minutes.”
Haruki frowned. “Since when do I have to show up for breakfast?”
“Since your father decided he wanted to see you this morning.”
That woke him up fast.
Haruki straightened, the haze of exhaustion vanishing. “Did he say why?”
Hideo shook his head. “No. But I think you can guess.”
Haruki’s stomach twisted.
So it was happening.
His father had made his decision.
And now, Haruki was going to find out exactly what it was.
Fifteen minutes later, Haruki stepped into the dining hall, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and grilled fish filling the air. The long mahogany table was already set, a perfect display of traditional Japanese breakfast dishes—miso soup, steamed rice, tamagoyaki, and a variety of side dishes that looked as pristine as the rest of the estate.
His father sat at the head of the table, dressed in a dark gray suit, his presence as commanding as ever. Riku sat a few seats away, his usual smirk firmly in place.
Haruki took a seat across from his brother, keeping his expression neutral.
Kenta Nakamura didn’t look up as he spoke. “You’re late.”
Haruki picked up his chopsticks. “I was told breakfast was in fifteen minutes.”
“You should have come earlier,” his father replied smoothly, taking a sip of his tea. “Punctuality is a habit, Haruki. One that you’ve never quite mastered.”
Haruki said nothing, focusing instead on his food. He knew better than to take the bait this early in the conversation.
The silence stretched for a few moments before Kenta finally set his teacup down. “I have something for you.”
Haruki stilled.
Here it was.
The test.
Kenta reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a small black envelope, placing it on the table between them. The movement was slow, deliberate, as if he was offering something far more dangerous than a piece of paper.
Haruki eyed it warily. “What is it?”
“An assignment,” Kenta said. “A simple one.”
Haruki exhaled quietly, setting his chopsticks down before reaching for the envelope. He turned it over in his hands before opening it, pulling out a single folded sheet of paper.
The contents were brief, but his stomach tightened as he read them.
A name.
An address.
And a time.
That was all.
Haruki’s grip on the paper tightened. “You want me to meet someone?”
“Yes,” Kenta said, watching him carefully. “This will be your first step in proving yourself.”
Haruki clenched his jaw. “And if I don’t?”
His father’s expression didn’t change. “Then Riku will take your place.”
The words were spoken so simply, so coldly, as if Haruki’s entire future was nothing more than a business transaction.
Haruki let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “So that’s it? I either go along with this, or I’m done?”
His father took another sip of his tea, his gaze unwavering. “Yes.”
Haruki looked down at the paper again, his mind racing.
It was such a small thing. A meeting. A name. An address.
But he knew better than to believe it was that simple.
Nothing in the Nakamura family was ever just a meeting.
Riku chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You should be grateful, little brother. Father is giving you a chance most people would kill for.”
Haruki didn’t look at him. “Funny. I don’t feel grateful.”
Riku smirked. “Then maybe you’re not cut out for this after all.”
Haruki exhaled slowly, then folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket.
He knew what was happening here. His father was giving him a choice—but it wasn’t a real one.
If he refused, he lost everything. If he accepted, he stepped onto a path he might never be able to leave.
There was no winning.
Only surviving.
Kenta stood, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. “You leave at six tonight.”
Haruki didn’t respond.
His father turned, walking toward the door without another word.
Riku stood as well, smirking down at Haruki. “Try not to embarrass yourself.”
Haruki clenched his fists under the table, resisting the urge to respond.
The door shut behind them, leaving Haruki alone in the dining hall, the untouched food in front of him suddenly unappetizing.
He reached into his pocket, fingers brushing against the paper once more.
Six o’clock.
A name.
An address.
A meeting.
Haruki exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment before standing.
One way or another, tonight would change everything.