A Few Days Later.
Wednesday morning arrives far too quickly. Kaede sits stiffly in the eting room, hands folded on her lap.
Across from her, the division chief smiles proudly. Beside her sits Kotake Shiba, her supervisor, legs neatly crossed, posture relaxed, his smile just a little too soft.
Tomorrow is the flight to Malaysia. She spent the last three nights trying to accept Ryoma’s decision, telling herself she should respect it, honor it, move forward like he asked.
But her chest still aches, and Ryoma’s words keep circling in her head like a quiet storm she can’t escape.
The chief starts reviewing the schedule: arrival, onboarding, accommodations, the company apartnt already prepared under her na.
Kaede nods through it, thoughts drifting, trying to stay steady.
But then the chief adds casually, almost cheerfully:
"...and of course, Shiba-kun will join you as the new Marketing Manager. You’ll be working closely together once the branch transition begins."
And there, Kaede goes still.
Her head turns toward Shiba slowly, too slowly. And Shiba’s already smiling at her with a sweetness that makes her stomach twist.
She never knew he was being promoted too. She thought the opportunity was hers alone.
Now she understands. This wasn’t a reward. It was a move, a placent, a separation, a clean way to pull her away from Ryoma without making it look like anything more than corporate restructuring.
The realization hits her like a blade between the ribs.
"Kaede," the chief begins warmly, "you should be grateful to Shiba-kun. It was his strong recomndation that convinced us to give you this promotion."
But Kaede stands, bows deeply. "I’m sorry. I must decline the promotion."
And both n stare. A sharp silence hits the room.
Shiba freezes, his smile cracking at the edges, eyes widening just a fraction before he forces them still.
The chief blinks, stunned, his expression stumbling from confidence to confusion. His hands hover awkwardly above the docunts on the table, as if he isn’t sure whether to pick them up or put them down.
"Decline?" the chief repeats, his tone flattening. "Kaede, the company has already booked your flight for tomorrow. Your hotel and long-stay apartnt in Malaysia are under your na."
Kaede’s face drains of color. The consequences hit her all at once, hard enough to shake her knees. She opens her mouth, but no explanation cos. She can only cling to the safest lie she can manage.
"There... there are others more deserving than ," she whispers.
The chief’s expression darkens. "This is extrely unprofessional. If you were going to refuse, you should have done so much earlier. We could just choose soone else."
Shiba rises quickly, bowing halfway. "Sir, please... Kaede is under a lot of pressure. She’s always been hardworking. All the achievents our team had were her efforts. She’s just overwheld right now..."
But Kaede cuts him off. She bows again, lower this ti. "I’m sorry. But my decision is final. I cannot accept."
And before either man can react, she turns and strides toward the door, her heels echoing sharply on the floor.
"Kaede!" Shiba calls, voice sharp, almost panicked.
"Kaede, stop!" the chief snaps. "If you walk out that door, you’re fired!"
But she doesn’t stop, doesn’t even flinch.
All she can think of is Ryoma. All she wants is to go back to him, whatever the cost. Promotion, career, reputation, none of it matters now.
Since her family died, Ryoma and Fumiko have been her only warmth, her only belonging. She doesn’t need a better life. She only wants a family again.
She fumbles for her phone as she rushes through the exit, trying to make a call.
But sohow, for a reason, the call is disconnected.
She calls again, but it reaches voicemail.
With every failed attempt, dread coils tighter in her chest, cold and twisting.
Did he block my number?
Did he really choose to sever everything between us?
Her breath breaks as she reaches the elevator. She paces in place, waiting, tears staining her cheeks.
But the damn elevator is too slow. So she takes the stairs.
Kaede runs, down one flight, then another, her heartbeat thundering, breath ragged, vision blurring.
Outside, she waves down a taxi with trembling hands, and gets inside in a rush.
"Just drive," she gasps. "Please, hurry."
The ride stretches in a blur, each turn of the wheels pulling her tighter between dread and hope.
By the ti the taxi approaches the Y-junction leading to Takeda Barbershop, her heartbeat is thudding painfully in her chest.
She leans forward as she sees a familiar Lexus parked by the curb. And from the shop, Ryoma steps out, wearing neatly pressed clothes, hair styled, carrying himself with calm confidence.
And beside him... Reika, dressed just as neatly, her posture composed and elegant. The two of them walk together with an easy, unhurried synchronicity, looking as if they belong at each other’s side.
Before Kaede reaches the edge of the barbershop, they’re already getting into the Lexus, doors closing. It looks like a date, a real one.
And Kaede can only watch, frozen, as the world she sacrificed everything for slips further out of reach, and into soone else’s hands.
A tiny, broken sound slips from her throat. She presses a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking. She looks like a woman watching her entire world walk away without turning back.
***
The Lexus moves smoothly through the late-morning traffic, neither hurried nor slow, its interior quiet enough that Ryoma can hear his own breath.
Reika sits beside him, tablet in hand, reviewing docunts with a practiced calm. There’s nothing remotely romantic in the atmosphere, except for Reika stealing glances once for a while.
They approach NSN Headquarters, its glass façade rising like a polished blade against the sky. As they step out of the car, Reika straightens, and Ryoma adjusts his collar.
Both of them are dressed not for leisure, but for expectation, for the kind of eting that pulls entire futures into alignnt.
Inside, the staffers greet Reika with crisp nods, so stealing subtle looks at Ryoma that bounce between awe and wariness.
Reika leads the way through the corridors with the certainty of soone who has morized every layout and security checkpoint. Ryoma matches her pace, his expression steady and composed.
When the elevator opens onto the executive floor, the atmosphere shifts imdiately. In the President’s office, Logan Rhodes and Frank Donovan are already waiting, seated with the poised stillness of n who’ve been there longer than they’ll acknowledge.
Logan is the first to move. He rises from his chair with an ease that still carries weight, crossing the room with his hand already extended.
His smile is warm, but not casual. This is a man greeting soone he considers valuable, soone he intends to draw into his orbit.
"Welco, Ryoma," Logan says, voice carrying the smooth confidence of a seasoned leader. "We’ve been waiting for you."
His hand settles on Ryoma’s shoulder, firm, welcoming, like he’s greeting the arrival of an asset too important to lose.
"Allow to introduce Frank Donovan," Logan says.
He steps aside so Ryoma has a clear view. Frank rises from the sofa, smoothing a hand down his suit front with controlled precision.
"He’s the director of Titan Apex Managent," Logan continues, "a firm known for taking promising athletes and elevating them into global legends."
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