"So, this is the situation."
Ichigo Saitou , president of Ichigo Productions, wore an unusually solemn expression as he studied Hoshino Ai across the desk, searching for any flicker of reaction.
[Regarding Miss Hoshino Ai's Letter of Inquiry]
[To Mr. Ichigo Saitou ]
[Apologies for the abrupt contact. I am Tanaka from Houbunsha Weekly Entertainment Scoop editorial department.]
[An article concerning your agency's artist Hoshino Ai will be published in our 9/23 issue. Please review the content below. Should you have objections or comments, kindly inform us. We would also appreciate an official interview with either yourself or Miss Hoshino.]
This email had arrived that morning. After reading its contents, Saitou immediately contacted Ai to inform her:
"Your mother wants to see you."
He tested the waters carefully:
"Tanaka has drafted two versions with different slants. I prefer the first—where you meet her, even if just for show. He could spin it into a positive piece."
His fingers scrolled down, revealing the proposed headlines:
"Only You Can Call My Name with Love"—An Exclusive Interview with the Mother of Top Idol Hoshino Ai.
"Behind Her Blooming Path, a Mother's Silent Vigil"—First Media Interview with Hoshino Ai's Mother.
"Hardship Nurtures Growth, Happiness Lies in Details"—Revisiting Top Idol Hoshino Ai's Childhood with Her Mother Through a Familial Lens.
Though she hadn't eaten since breakfast, nausea surged violently through Ai. She gasped for air as if a nightmare had materialized from the shadows, grinning grotesquely before her.
Saitou gritted his teeth. In many ways, he'd watched Ai grow up.
"I'll negotiate with Tanaka. There must be alternatives. With the Tokyo Dome concert approaching, who knows if this woman is a plant from rivals?"
He stood to reassure her:
"Ichigo Pro stands with you. We'll handle PR."
As Saitou turned to leave, Ai rasped:
"If I refuse... what's the other version?"
Saitou hesitated.
"Your silence won't help. I can ask their editorial team myself."
"...Very well."
Taking a deep breath, Saitou pulled up his chat with Kitagawa Ryo, sending their location without explanation before displaying the email's second half:
"Showbiz Mother-Child Rifts Ranked: Kitagawa Ryo Only Takes Second Place?"
"Before Entering Tokyo Dome, Shouldn't Hoshino Ai Give Her Mother Closure?"
"From Resentful Daughter to Topp Idol: Have Modern Youth's Values Gone Astray?"
Beneath these headlines was the woman's photo.
Seeing it, Ai realized the faceless monster had always lived in her bones and blood, nested in her heart and brain. She'd never escaped.
She sat frozen, staring at the image—until familiar footsteps rushed in.
Before Ryo could react, Ai had already buried her face against his chest, clutching his waist as sobs wracked her body like a child finally allowed to cry.
She'd always remembered that face. She'd just forced herself to imagine it blank.
Because whether she was twelve or twenty, one glance from that woman could reduce Ai to a four-year-old stifling tears in the dark.
"If Tanaka dared send this, he's verified her identity. Faking this would be lawsuit territory."
After some maneuvering, Kindaichi Toshiro joined them in a private dining room to strategize.
"Tanaka wouldn't fabricate this. Exposing him would tank the entire magazine."
Saitou nodded toward Ryo on the couch:
"Your thoughts?"
"From Ichigo Pro's interests and Ai's image strategy, the first approach is optimal."
Ryo kept his voice low. Ai had fallen asleep across his lap—the same girl who days ago flaunted her maturity, desperate to proclaim her impending adulthood.
Yet her curled, uneasy form shattered that illusion.
"But Ai would never... no, she absolutely won't accept that PR move."
"Then what? Forget the article's damage—in this state, how will she perform at Tokyo Dome next week?"
Saitou understated the crisis. Everyone knew: if Weekly Entertainment Scoop ran the second version, it would devastate Ai and B-Komachi.
"First, we need the woman's true intentions. Her narrative will steer public opinion."
Ryo frowned.
In East Asian cultures, parent-child conflicts instinctively favor the parent—hence Director Gotanda's film Spider.
Ryo's victory against the Kitagawas relied on pre-gathered evidence of exploitation and their foster—not blood—relation.
Public perception differed drastically between rebelling against adoptive versus biological parents.
"Severing blood ties isn't like cutting an umbilical cord."
Ryo cradled Ai's hand, murmuring:
"Blood itself is another umbilical cord."
"So a meeting is necessary."
Kindaichi agreed:
"Everything we know comes filtered through Tanaka. They'll twist anything for clicks. Maybe—"
"See? Even you unconsciously hope blood matters."
Ryo interrupted with a smile:
"Everyone believes blood's thicker than water. That's why Tanaka offered version one—a fabricated but heartwarming reunion sells."
He rested his chin on a hand:
"If strangers claimed to be my birth parents, would you want me weeping in their arms?"
"Of course not."
"Exactly."
Ryo turned to Saitou:
"As I said, we'll meet her—not for reconciliation, but to find leverage or flaws in her story."
"Once Ai wakes, I'll discuss this with her."
"I trust Ai, meaning this woman's account must crumble. Exposing her lies prevents one-sided public opinion."
After a pause, Ryo added:
"When Ai left the orphanage, you became her legal guardian. That grants you standing to confront her mother."
"But you're not the best candidate."
"You mean...?"
Saitou's eyes widened.
"Your wife, Saitou Miyako."
Ryo stated plainly:
"She should conduct the preliminary meeting."
"After gauging this 'mother's' motives, then Ai meets her."
He brushed dust from Ai's hair gently.
"I believe in Ai."
"But if necessary, I'll go with her."
When Ai awoke, only Ryo remained.
The clock showed she'd slept across his lap for nearly two hours.
The old Ai would have scrambled up apologetically, fretting over his numb legs, teasingly offering to massage them until he declined.
That was their old dynamic—playful intimacy.
But now Ai only wanted to stay, greedily inhaling Ryo's presence.
She thought she'd learned patience these years. Yet hearing Ryo strategize for her had flipped a switch, flooding her senses awake.
Finally, she understood Ruby's protectiveness toward Ryo—and why the girl resented her.
This went beyond affection. This was dependence.
But who said the older couldn't lean on the younger?
Feeling Ai stir, Ryo stopped his musings:
"Awake?"
"Mm."
Ai's mind felt waterlogged, thoughts sluggish.
"You can't lie here forever."
"I wish..."
"You'll be twenty next month. An adult."
Ryo shook his head:
"Ruby would never let you live this down."
Though committed to helping, Ryo wanted Ai to conquer this demon herself.
Call it presumptuous, call it selfish—he longed to see an Ai unshackled from her past.
He wasn't oblivious to her feelings.
When a woman desires a man, no wall stands too high, no fortress too strong, no moral qualm too daunting. Not even God could restrain her.
Yet Ryo—through two lifetimes—had never properly loved.
Something felt unequal about reciprocating now. Though Ai was older chronologically, his compounded years made him the elder.
He'd died at thirty in his past life.
By that measure, guiding Ai from twelve to twenty mirrored the Tale of Genji's grooming trope.
So Ryo wanted Ai to grow—to become whole.
"I'm on your side."
He encouraged the hesitating Ai.
Rare vulnerability flickered across her face as tremors traveled from her fingers to clutch his sleeve.
Stripped of glamour and persona, here lay just a girl afraid of her mother.
"Then—will you grant me courage?"
Ai didn't wait for an answer.
She rose, encircling Ryo's neck.
His eyes widened at the proximity—close enough to see her lashes flutter like black butterfly wings.
Then her lips, cool and quiet, pressed against his.
She kissed him.
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