Unexpectedly, he was still late.
By the time Rui Griffin landed, the news had already spread.
The York Group had collapsed.
And Old Madam Yukisan—the woman who once stood at the peak of the business world—was gone.
He had taken a private jet overnight from abroad.
But even that wasn't fast enough.
What greeted him was silence.
And a funeral hall far too empty for someone of her standing.
Rui Griffin stood at the entrance for a moment.
Then he saw her.
Reina Yuki.
Collapsed on the carpet before the portrait.
Small.
Trembling.
Breaking quietly under everything left behind.
His gaze darkened slightly.
So this was what they had reduced her to.
The old lady's most precious granddaughter—
left like something discarded.
A faint coldness passed through his eyes.
He stepped forward.
Unhurried.
And bowed deeply toward the portrait.
"Farewell, Teacher."
His voice was low.
Controlled.
But not empty.
There was grief in it—contained, disciplined, real.
Reina lifted her head slightly.
"…You knew my grandmother?"
Rui straightened.
"Yes."
Only that.
Reina studied him carefully.
She didn't recognize him.
Her grandmother never spoke of a man like this.
Young. Composed. Unnamed in her world.
Someone like him didn't belong in silence and tradition—
and yet he stood there as if he had always belonged.
Before she could speak again—
he bowed once more.
Not to the name.
But to the memory.
"Rest well, Teacher."
Reina's fingers tightened slightly.
He wasn't lying.
That much she could feel.
"…Why are you here alone?" he asked.
The question made her pause.
Her expression tightened.
"…Who are you?"
"Me?" He tilted his head slightly.
Almost faintly amused.
"Rui Griffin."
The name fell into the hall like a dropped blade.
Reina froze.
"…Rui Griffin?"
She had heard it.
Not often.
But enough.
A family that did not appear in the world unless it chose to.
The Griffin lineage.
Reina's eyes narrowed.
"That's impossible," she said quietly.
Rui met her gaze without change.
"Names don't matter much," he said. "Remember Rui if you must."
Something in his tone—
pressed against her memory.
Uncomfortably familiar.
"…Have we met before?"
A flicker passed through his eyes.
Gone almost instantly.
"Maybe."
That wasn't an answer.
It only deepened the tension.
Then—
it hit her.
A fragment of memory.
A voice.
That night.
Her body went still.
"You…" Her breath tightened. "It's you."
Rui didn't deny it.
He simply watched her.
As if this moment had already been accounted for.
Reina's expression shifted.
Slowly.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Then fury.
"You're that man."
Her voice sharpened.
"YOU WERE THERE THAT NIGHT!"
Before he could respond—
she moved.
Fast.
"Bastard!"
Her fist cut through the air.
Rui sighed softly.
And only then stepped aside.
"Little Rei—"
"Don't call me that!"
A second strike followed immediately.
He avoided it again.
Effortless.
Controlled.
"Listen to me," he said evenly.
But she wasn't listening.
Not anymore.
"Because of you—" her voice cracked, "—my reputation was destroyed!"
"Because of you, my grandmother died!"
"Because of you, my aunt is unconscious!"
Each sentence cut sharper than the last.
Rui's expression darkened slightly.
But he didn't interrupt.
He let her burn through it.
When her breathing turned uneven—
he spoke again.
Calm.
"I understand."
That was all.
No defense.
No denial.
No explanation.
Just acceptance.
And that was what stopped her—just for a fraction of a second.
Not comfort.
Control.
Rui stepped back slightly.
His tone lowered.
"I won't ask you to trust me," he said. "Not yet."
A pause.
"But if you want revenge…"
His gaze locked onto hers.
"…then I am not your enemy."
Silence settled again.
Reina stood there, breath uneven, anger still alive—but no longer absolute.
And for the first time—
certainty cracked.