Akira Kobayashi smiled as he adjusted his school tie, the perfect picture of a golden boy. The halls of *Eikō Academy* buzzed around him—girls giggling in his wake, teachers nodding approvingly at the top student, even the school director giving him a respectful bow. He was everything the Kurodas weren't: charming, approachable, effortlessly brilliant.
And it was all a lie.
Yumi Kuroda strutted past him, her designer bag swinging like a weapon. "Move, Kobayashi," she snapped, not even glancing at him.
Akira's smile never wavered. "Of course, Yumi-chan. Wouldn't want to keep you from your *very important* schedule of terrorizing interns."
She flipped her hair and stormed off. He watched her go, amused.
*Pathetic.*
**After School: The Wolf's Den**
The moment classes ended, Akira's mask slipped. His driver—a burly man with a scar running down his cheek—took him not home, but to the *Kobayashi Group's* private office. His father, **Ryohei Kobayashi**, sat behind a mahogany desk, blueprints of the Kuroda Fashion Week venue spread out before him.
"You're late," Ryohei grunted.
Akira loosened his tie, dropping his schoolbag like discarded skin. "Had to play the honor student a little longer. Yumi's getting more insufferable by the day."
His father smirked. "Good. The more she unravels, the weaker Toji looks."
Akira leaned over the blueprints, tracing a finger along the backstage layout of the Kuroda show. "Security's tight, but not tight enough. We already have two models on payroll—they'll 'trip' at the right moment, spill wine on the signature gown. And the lighting rig?" He glanced at his father. "One *malfunction* at the climax, and the whole show goes dark."
Ryohei's grin was sharp. "You've been paying attention."
Akira's phone buzzed. A message from **Sakura Sato**: *"Will you be at the café today?"*
His thumb hovered. For a second, something flickered in his eyes—something almost human. Then it was gone.
*"Sorry. Busy tonight."*
He turned back to the blueprints.
---
**Fashion Week: Sabotage in Silk**
The Kuroda Fashion Show was supposed to be Toji's triumph—an unveiling of his new *"Midnight Dragon"* collection, a fusion of traditional kimono artistry and modern haute couture. The front row was packed with investors, celebrities, and rival designers (including a smirking Ryohei Kobayashi).
Backstage, Yumi barked orders at trembling staff. "If this show fails, I'm firing every single one of you!"
It failed.
First, a model "accidentally" tore the hem of the opening piece. Then, during the grand finale, the lights cut out—plunging the runway into chaos. By the time backup generators flickered on, the lead model was sprawled on the floor, the *Midnight Dragon* gown ripped beyond repair.
The audience gasped. Cameras flashed. Toji Kuroda's face was stone, but his knuckles were white around his whiskey glass.
Across the room, Akira clapped politely, his expression the picture of sympathy.
---
**Late Night: The Wolf Hunts**
Akira didn't go home after the show. Instead, he slipped into a dimly lit hostess bar in Kabukicho, where a Kuroda executive was drowning his shame in overpriced champagne.
"Rough night," Akira said, sliding into the seat beside him.
The man blinked. "K-Kobayashi? What are you—"
Akira signaled the hostess for two more drinks. "I hear Toji doesn't forgive failure. But *my* father? He rewards talent." He leaned in, voice a velvet threat. "Think about it."
By the time Akira left, the executive's loyalty was cracking.
His phone buzzed again. Sakura. *"Everything okay? You seem distant."*
This time, he didn't reply.
---
**The Next Morning: Two Faces**
At school, Akira was flawless again—helping a first-year pick up dropped books, laughing with the basketball team, even giving Yumi a polite nod when she glared at him.
But when the bell rang, his phone lit up with a new message from his father:
*"Phase two starts tonight."*
Akira smiled.
The wolf was just getting started.