Chisato stood at the entrance of the Murakami estate, her gaze lifted slightly to the towering black iron gates that separated the world of the elite from the ordinary.
A cool breeze played with the ends of her blonde hair as she adjusted the strap of the messenger bag slung over her shoulder.
Tucked safely inside was a certain notebook—slightly worn, filled with detailed sketches and complex formulas.
She hadn't meant to come here today. It just happened. Ryoma had left it behind at the café after the small celebration with Ayaka and the others.
And Mika, with his usual sharp eyes, noticed it resting beneath the seat Ryoma had been occupying.
When Chisato saw the familiar name written on the cover in neat, efficient handwriting—Ryoma Murakami—she knew she couldn't just leave it there.
The gates creaked slightly as one of the guards stationed nearby turned his attention toward her.
His brows lifted in recognition, and a grin tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Oh? Miss Chisato again," he said, voice light with amusement. "Coming to meet young master Ryoma as usual?"
Chisato gave a bright wave, her usual carefree grin lighting up her face. "Bingo! You catch on quick, huh?"
Without hesitation, the guard pressed a button on the small control panel, and the gates began to open with a smooth mechanical hum.
"I mean, I can't really think of any other reason you'd show up here, unless it's to see him," he said, stepping aside politely.
Chisato clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward slightly. "Well, maybe I just like the view here! Ever think of that?" she teased, her tone playful.
The guard chuckled, then leaned a little closer. "Oh? Do you two have that kind of relationship?"
Chisato didn't miss a beat—her eyes widened dramatically before she gasped in mock shock. "Ehh? You think so? Fufu~ maybe I should tell Ryoma you're spreading rumors about us!"
The guard froze, then quickly waved his hands in protest. "Ah—no, no, I was just joking!"
Chisato laughed, her voice bright and unrestrained. "Relax, I'm joking too!" She winked mischievously before striding past the gates, humming cheerfully to herself.
Chisato stepped lightly into the grand Murakami mansion, the polished marble floor beneath her shoes echoing faintly with each step.
Her blonde hair bounced rhythmically as she walked.
Behind her, the gate guard chuckled and raised his voice just loud enough to carry into the foyer.
"Be careful! His parents are still inside!"
Without breaking stride, Chisato threw a playful salute over her shoulder.
"Roger that! I'll tread carefully!" she replied with a wink, her tone full of good-natured cheer.
The Murakami estate was as pristine as ever—every surface spotless, every decorative vase perfectly aligned, every scent subtly fragrant with a hint of lavender.
As she stepped further inside, her eyes quickly landed on a familiar figure near the staircase.
"Ayaka~!" Chisato called out with a wave.
The girl in question, Ryoma's ever-reliable personal servant, looked up from the cloth in her hand.
She was dusting a picture frame with practiced ease, her expression warm and welcoming.
"Ah! Miss Chisato," Ayaka greeted with a smile that matched the brightness of the polished floors. "Is there anything I can help you with today?"
Chisato nodded, stepping closer. "Actually, yes! I was wondering if Ryoma's around."
"I need to give him something he forgot."
Ayaka tilted her head knowingly, her smile widening. "The notebook, right? Let me—"
Before she could finish, a calm yet commanding voice echoed from across the hall.
"Ayaka."
Both girls turned toward the source.
Standing near the far corridor, dressed in a refined slate-gray dress that matched her cool demeanor, was Saeko Murakami—Ryoma's mother.
Her presence was quiet but unignorable, her steps graceful and deliberate as she approached.
Her gaze, sharp and assessing, briefly shifted from her servant to the guest.
"I'd like to speak with you. Alone," Saeko said to Ayaka, before glancing at Chisato.
Her tone wasn't hostile, but it carried the weight of someone used to control. "Oh? And what brings you here?"
Chisato, unfazed, met her eyes with the same disarming brightness she offered everyone.
"Don't worry," she said, holding up the notebook casually, "I just came to return something Ryoma left behind. That's all."
Chisato tilted her head and squinted playfully at Saeko, a mischievous glint in her crimson eyes.
"Why so serious? You should totally hire someone to teach you facial exercises," she said with a cheeky smile.
Then, as if genuinely curious, she added, "I really wonder what your smile looks like... must be a rare species."
"A-Ah, Miss Chisato, you—" Ayaka started, clearly flustered and trying to wave her hands in mild panic, but before she could finish, another voice cut cleanly through the air.
Saeko arched an eyebrow, folding her arms with practiced grace.
"You're lucky Ryoma specifically told me not to hurt you," she said coolly.
"Otherwise, I would've personally tossed you out the front gate. Maybe even made sure your clothes were covered in mud first."
Chisato's grin froze just a little. "Yikes..."
Saeko didn't wait for a reply. She turned on her heels with elegance sharp enough to slice through paper.
"Hurry up, Ayaka."
"Yes, Ma'am!" Ayaka said quickly, then gave Chisato an apologetic look before scurrying off after her.
Chisato let out a small, nervous laugh. "Note to self: Don't joke with scary moms. Or at least, tone down the sarcasm to... survivable levels."
Ayaka suddenly paused mid-step and turned her head slightly. "By the way, Miss Chisato—the young master is in his room."
That snapped Chisato out of her muttering. Her expression instantly brightened.
"Oh? Thanks, Ayaka~ You're the best!" she chirped, giving a thumbs up before trotting toward the grand staircase.
Upstairs, everything was quiet. The long hallway echoed faintly with her steps as she stopped in front of Ryoma's door.
It was simple and neat—just like the boy who lived inside it.
She knocked gently. "Ryoma~! You forgot something!"
Silence.
She waited a moment, then tried again. "Hellooo? It's me, your favorite café girl~?"
Still nothing.
Chisato blinked and reached for the handle. It turned without resistance.
"Huh? Unlocked?"
She slowly pushed the door open and peeked in, eyebrows furrowing in slight confusion.
"Weird... is he not here? Did I just break into his empty room?"
She stepped inside cautiously, eyes scanning the space. "Maybe he's outside? Or asleep under a pile of blueprints again..."
Chisato stepped into the room, the soft click of the door closing behind her echoing faintly.
She paused, letting her eyes sweep across the neat space.
"Hmm... weird. Maybe he's in the bathroom?" she murmured, taking a few cautious steps forward.
As if summoned by her words, a door to the side creaked open.
She turned her head—and immediately froze.
A tall figure stepped out, steam wafting behind him. His hair, damp and tousled, shimmered a soft sky-blue under the warm light.
A towel was loosely wrapped around his waist, water still clinging to his skin.
"Oh? Chisato?" Ryoma said casually, blinking as if her sudden appearance was the most natural thing in the world.
Chisato froze, then immediately grinned. "Whoa, hello! Guess I caught you fresh out of the shower, huh?"
Instead of flinching away, she leaned a little to the side, hands behind her back as if teasing him.
"Wow, Ryoma… you've been working out, huh? That's quite the six-pack you've got there!"
Ryoma blinked, clearly not expecting that reaction.
"Huh? Oh, uh—yeah, I guess…" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking oddly self-conscious
He stepped a little closer. "So, what brings you here?"
"Oh! Your notebook!" she said quickly, pulling it out and holding it up. "Mission accomplished. Delivery girl Chisato at your service!"
Then she tilted her head with a cheeky smile. "But, uh, you might wanna get dressed before you say thanks. I don't usually get greeted by half-naked geniuses, you know?"
Ryoma looked down at himself, then back at her. "Good point. But you should probably leave the room if I'm going to do that, right?"
Chisato snickered, giving him a mock salute. "Roger that! Don't worry, I won't peek. Promise!"
She spun on her heels and left, humming a cheerful tune as she shut the door behind her.
Once outside, she leaned back against the wall and exhaled sharply, her face now fully red.
"Note to self. Next time, knock longer and louder."
After a short pause, Ryoma's voice called from inside the room, calm and clear.
"You can come in now, Chisato."
She took a deep breath, collecting herself before nudging the door open with her usual lighthearted hum.
The moment she stepped in, her eyes blinked wide. Ryoma stood near his desk, fully dressed now—but not just in anything.
A sleek, perfectly tailored outfit hugged his frame, like he'd just stepped off the runway of a high-end fashion show.
His sky-blue hair, brushed neatly, caught the light in a way that made him look effortlessly cool.
Chisato froze for half a second—then her lips curled into a mischievous grin.
"Ohooo~ look at you, Mr. Cool Guy!" she sang, circling him dramatically like a fashion judge.
"Is this Ryoma Murakami, or did I just wander into a men's magazine photoshoot?"
Ryoma raised an eyebrow, deadpan as ever. "Thanks, I guess. You too. First time I've seen you in casual clothes, right? Not working today?"
Chisato twirled once in place, striking an exaggerated pose before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a grin.
"Ta-da! Chisato Nishikigi, off-duty version~." Rare sighting, right? Should've brought a camera."
She hopped closer and placed a slim black notebook in his hand. "Anyway! You left this at the café."
"Honestly, I thought geniuses weren't supposed to lose their stuff."
Ryoma gave a faint smirk. "I never said I was perfect."
Chisato leaned in, eyes gleaming playfully. "Oh? So the great Ryoma Murakami does have weaknesses! Notebook memory loss—tragic."
Ryoma didn't respond immediately. He was flipping through the notebook absentmindedly, but there was a pause in his movements when she spoke again.
"Is there a special occasion?" she said, eyeing him from head to toe once more.
He shut the notebook with a soft thunk. "Yeah, I've got a little business to take care of—" He hesitated for a second, then looked at her, "—Want to come along?"
Chisato blinked, surprised. "Eh? Me?"
"Yes," Ryoma said, his gaze calm but focused, "do you have anything else planned today?"
Chisato shook her head, a bright smile spreading across her face. "Nope. I'm free as a bird. So, count me in!"
"Good," Ryoma replied, giving her a quick once-over. "Your outfit today... it's stylish."
He paused, searching for the right word. "How do you say it... Oh. You look beautiful."
His delivery was blunt, without a hint of hesitation—pure Ryoma.
Chisato blinked, momentarily surprised. Then, instead of getting flustered, her lips curved into a teasing grin.
"Ehh? Straight to the point, huh? Ryoma, you're gonna make me think you've been practicing pick-up lines in the mirror." She gave him a playful wink.
Ryoma didn't even flinch. "I'm just telling the truth."
Chisato laughed, twirling once in mock fashion-show flair. "Well~ if the genius Murakami says I'm beautiful, I'll take it as an official certificate of approval!"
He tilted his head. "So, do you want to stay here or come with me?"
"Of course I'm coming with you," she replied brightly, pumping a fist in mock determination. "Can't let you hog all the spotlight alone, right?"
A few minutes later, as they reached the front door, it swung open—revealing a tall man in a suit, sharp-eyed and dignified. It was Ryoma's father, Masaru Murakami.
"Ryoma? And... Chisato?" he said, eyeing them both with mild surprise. "Where are you two headed?"
"I'm going to take care of the task you assigned me," Ryoma replied smoothly. "And I thought I'd bring Chisato along."
Masaru's brows lifted, his gaze shifting between them. "You do know this is company business, right?"
Ryoma didn't flinch. "She doesn't own a giant corporation like us. No threat there."
Masaru sighed through his nose, clearly unconvinced. "Fine. But make sure she doesn't cause any trouble."
Chisato gave a small, polite wave. "I'll behave. Promise!"
Masaru's eyes narrowed slightly before he finally turned and walked past them, mumbling something under his breath.
In another room of the mansion, Saeko sat with Ayaka in quiet conversation. Her voice was low, but firm.
"Have you turned off the CCTV?"
Ayaka gave a small nod. "Yes... Lady Murakami."
"Good." Saeko folded her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. "There's something I want to confirm with you, Ayaka."
"You still haven't told Ryoma about that, right?"
Ayaka's expression tightened, but she quickly shook her head. "No, Lady Murakami. I haven't said a word."
Meanwhile, out front, Ryoma adjusted the interface on his sleek glasses.
From the garage, a sports car hummed to life and rolled smoothly toward them, stopping precisely at the curb.
Chisato's eyes widened in surprise. "It's still kind of creepy how that car just drives itself"
"You'll have to get used to it," Ryoma said matter-of-factly as he slid into the driver's seat.
The car's systems synced with his glasses seamlessly.
Chisato climbed in beside him, buckling up. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," she said with a playful smirk.
Without much fanfare, the car pulled away from the mansion and rolled smoothly through the gates.
Chisato stared out the window for a while, letting the city blur by. But her curiosity started bubbling over.
"So... where are we going, exactly?" she asked, turning to Ryoma with a curious glance.
Ryoma didn't take his eyes off the road. "To chat with people who use MT products."
"Oh?" Chisato blinked, nodding slowly. "A little customer feedback mission?"
"Something like that," Ryoma replied.
Chisato leaned back in her seat, watching Ryoma for a moment. There was something intriguing about how serious he looked when he was working.
She smiled to herself. "Well, I guess I'll just enjoy the ride then."
The car came to a gentle stop in front of a quaint little café nestled between taller buildings.
"Let's get out," Ryoma said, stepping out first.
As Chisato followed, he casually tapped the side of his glasses, and with a soft beep, the car locked itself behind them.
The café was a curious blend of cozy and futuristic. Inside, drones buzzed quietly, delivering orders with precise efficiency, while a sleek cashier system and custom software powered by Murakami Tech kept everything running smoothly.
Chisato's eyes sparkled as she took it all in. "Impressive," she murmured under her breath, captivated by the seamless integration of technology and warmth.
Then a man appeared from behind the counter, his eyes widening in surprise the moment he spotted Ryoma.
"A-Ah! Mr. Murakami!" he stammered, clearly starstruck.
Ryoma smiled politely and took a seat. Without wasting a moment, he got straight to business.
"So, how has your experience been with our system?"
Chisato settled into the chair opposite him, tuning in to their conversation.
She found herself drawn to the ease with which Ryoma navigated the discussion—technical jargon flowed naturally from his lips, sprinkled with thoughtful questions and nods.
Listening to the café owner's feedback, she realized how much firsthand insight Ryoma had—pointing out gaps and issues that the official reports hadn't mentioned.
It was fascinating to hear the real voice of a customer, and Ryoma's sharp mind absorbing every detail made her quietly admire him even more.
When they finally stepped out of the café, Ryoma glanced at her and grinned. "So? Confused yet?"
Chisato laughed softly, shaking her head. "Not at all. Honestly, I find it pretty interesting hearing you talk about all this business stuff. You really know your stuff."
Curious, she asked, "Where to next?"
Ryoma paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Meeting with the District Council."
Chisato's eyes brightened with anticipation. "Sounds like a big deal. Lead the way!"
"Just wanted to chat about assessing the political risks of the MT project," Ryoma said as he slid into the driver's seat.
Chisato followed suit, buckling her seatbelt with a playful glance. "Political risks, huh? That sounds serious."
Ryoma shot her a quick look. "Well, after all the business is done, how about we have some fun?"
Chisato raised an eyebrow, her lips already curling into a playful grin. "Oho~ fun, you say? Better be careful how you phrase that, Ryoma. Sounds almost like a date invitation."
Ryoma didn't flinch. "Hm? What do you usually do for fun? Karaoke, arcade games, that sort of thing?" He started the engine smoothly.
Chisato tapped her chin theatrically. "Mmm, yeah, I love those. Takina and I also go shopping sometimes—though she usually complains I pick too many snacks."
"Shopping, huh? Sounds good. I'll follow your lead wherever you want to go," Ryoma said with a confident grin.
Chisato's eyes gleamed with mischief as she leaned toward him. "Anything I want? Oho~ dangerous words, Mr. Murakami. Don't cry if I bankrupt you."
Ryoma reached into his jacket and, with his usual blunt confidence, pulled out a sleek black card, letting it glint in the light. "Then just take it."
Chisato's jaw dropped theatrically. She clapped her hands together like a comedian landing a punchline.
"Huh?! Did you just straight-up throw me a black card? Who even does that?!"
Ryoma grinned confidently and shot back, "Me."
She burst out laughing, doubling over slightly in her seat. "Oh my god, you're actually serious! You're dangerous, Ryoma—you know that? If you keep this up, I might really take advantage of you!"
Ryoma smirked faintly, eyes still on the road. "Oh? I'm not so sure you're that kind of person."
Chisato blinked at him, then broke into another giggle, lightly smacking his arm. "Geez, you're impossible. Fine, fine. But don't blame me when your account cries for mercy!"
After their meeting with the district council wrapped up, Ryoma and Chisato spent some time chatting casually with a few of the locals before moving on to the next item on their agenda.
Their next stop was the university, where Ryoma was invited to participate as the "next-generation representative" of the Murakami family.
The main event was a discussion session focused on the ethics of technology and the future of artificial intelligence—a topic Ryoma was deeply passionate about.
Chisato didn't just sit back and wait quietly. Instead, she took a seat beside Ryoma, occasionally whispering comments or questions to help him keep the conversation flowing.
It wasn't just about supporting him; this was part of a bigger plan.
One of their goals was to build Ryoma's reputation as a thoughtful and capable young leader—someone who genuinely cared about the future and the people around him.
They wanted to inspire students, recruit promising talents, and most importantly, learn from the sharp criticisms and insightful questions that only a curious student body could offer.
When the university event finished, Ryoma made a point to visit the MT (Murakami Tech) facilities in person.
He met face-to-face with the technicians, engineers, and production managers—people who kept the company running day and night.
His purpose was clear: to assess the efficiency, quality, and morale of the employees on the ground.
He wanted to understand the entire production chain, not just from the cold pages of reports and charts, but through firsthand experience.
After finishing up all his business, Ryoma and Chisato settled into the car for the ride back.
Chisato glanced at the digital clock displayed on the dashboard beside the steering wheel and raised an impressed eyebrow.
"You're efficient, I'll give you that," she said with a smirk, leaning back comfortably in her seat as the car glided smoothly through the city streets.
"I honestly didn't expect us to finish all your business so quickly."
Ryoma kept his eyes on the road, voice calm yet carrying a hint of something softer.
"I promised I'd take you out to have some fun," he said without looking at her.
Chisato smiled, her fingers lightly resting on her lap. "Everyone needs a break now and then, right?" she replied warmly.
"Even superheroes need time to recharge," Ryoma added quietly, as if sharing a secret.
A soft laugh escaped her lips, tinged with excitement. "So... where exactly are you taking me?"
He muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "Somewhere that women like..."
Chisato's eyes sparkled with amusement at the unexpected hesitation.
She leaned back against the seat, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
"Oh? The ever-so-calm and collected Ryoma Murakami, suddenly at a loss for words?"
Unbeknownst to her, Ryoma's glasses were quietly scanning the web, analyzing popular spots.
The AI flickered suggestions—shopping districts, luxury boutiques—places women often adored.
"Not at all. I know exactly where we're headed," he assured her, steering the car smoothly.
Chisato tilted her head, voice teasing and light. "Uh-huh, suuure you do."
"Are you secretly freaking out inside, trying to impress little old me?" she added with a playful grin.
Ryoma's lips twitched, but he said nothing as they drove through the bustling streets of Tokyo.
After a short drive through the vibrant heart of Tokyo, their car finally pulled up in front of Isetan Shinjuku.
Surrounded by glittering skyscrapers and glass—walled offices that kissed the sky, the department store stood proud—a landmark of elegance and prestige.
The kind of place where Tokyo's elite lost hours browsing luxury goods, and where the air itself seemed to shimmer with style and sophistication.
Chisato gazed out the window, her breath catching.
There was something different about today. It wasn't just another outing—it felt warmer. Closer. Like something was quietly changing between them.
Her amber eyes widened as she caught sight of the building's grand facade.
"Wow..." she whispered under her breath, her earlier teasing swept away by the sheer awe of the view.
Ryoma glanced at her from the driver's seat, catching the soft spark in her expression.
A smirk curved his lips. "Careful," he said. "Keep looking at me like that and you'll end up owing me a compliment."
Chisato turned to him with a playful flick of her hair. "Bold of you to assume you've impressed me already."
"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "I'll make you eat those words by the end of the day."
She gave a small laugh, the sound delicate but full of challenge. "We'll see."
He smoothly guided the car into the VIP parking area, the hush of wealth settling around them like invisible velvet.
The two stepped into the private elevator, alone in the soft glow of its polished interior.
Ryoma glanced sideways at her. "Sixth and seventh floors sound good? They've got Women's Fashion and Beauty there."
Chisato's eyes immediately lit up. "Ooh, yes! That sounds perfect!"
Ryoma pressed the button, and with a soft chime, the elevator doors slid open to reveal a scene straight out of a dream.
Warm, ambient lighting glowed from above, casting everything in a soft, golden hue.
Sparkling displays shimmered in the distance, and the faint but luxurious scent of high-end perfumes floated through the air.
Chisato gasped, practically bouncing on her feet. "Wow~! It's like walking into a fancy drama set!" she squealed, grabbing Ryoma's arm without thinking.
Rows upon rows of designer clothes lined the spacious floor, each one exuding elegance and screaming luxury.
Chisato immediately darted toward the nearest rack, her eyes sparkling like a kid in a candy store.
"Look at this one!" she beamed, holding up a flowing pastel dress. "This would make me look like a graceful princess! Or... at least a well-funded one."
Ryoma raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. "So, you're already picturing yourself ruling the fashion kingdom?"
"With style and snacks, absolutely." She gave him a confident wink.
She then peeked at the price tag—just a peek—and froze.
Her smile cracked.
"EH?! What kind of royal ransom is this?!" she shouted, waving the tag dramatically.
"Do they want me to sell a kidney or two? Wait—Ryoma, how many organs do you think I can live without?"
Ryoma couldn't stop himself from laughing. "That depends. How attached are you to your spleen?"
"Moderately!" she huffed, putting the dress back like it had burned her.
"I came here to shop, not to file for bankruptcy."
"Relax," Ryoma said, amused. "I told you today was on me, didn't I?"
She blinked at him. "Wait. Are you saying... you'll buy me something here?"
"If you find something you like," he replied with a shrug, like it was no big deal.
There was a brief silence.
Then—
"YOUNG MASTER RYOMA!" she shouted, playfully grabbing both his hands.
"I was wrong about you! You're not just cool and mysterious—you're an angel in disguise!!"
He gave her a dry look. "You were wrong about me?"
"Well, maybe not wrong, more like... 95% right and now 5% impressed to tears."
He smirked. "You're unbelievable."
Ryoma reached into his pocket and smoothly pulled out a sleek black card, the kind that looked like it belonged to billionaires and movie villains.
He held it up casually, eyes calm. "Want to try it on right now?"
Still, her shock quickly melted into joy, and she practically bounced in place. "Okay, okay, yes! I'll try it! No way I'm passing this up!"
With stars in her eyes and her grin stretching wide, she disappeared into the changing room.
Meanwhile, Ryoma stood right outside, pulling out his phone like he was casually scrolling—but in reality, he was quietly searching, "how to give a good compliment without sounding like a weirdo."
Inside, Chisato slowly undressed, her heart fluttering with nervous excitement.
The dress felt cool and smooth against her skin, wrapping around her like silk spun from a dream.
She adjusted the fit, turned side to side, and tilted her head thoughtfully.
"Whoa," she whispered at her reflection, her grin spreading. "This… is dangerously pretty. Ten out of ten, Chisato Nishikigi."
The moment she stepped out, Ryoma's eyes widened.
For a second, he genuinely forgot to breathe.
"Wow…" he whispered. "You look absolutely gorgeous."
His voice was quiet, but it carried a rare kind of warmth—sincere, steady, and just vulnerable enough that it made Chisato's chest tighten.
She blinked, stunned, before breaking into a bright, playful smile. "Eh? Gorgeous? Careful, Ryoma… keep saying stuff like that and I might just fall for you~"
A small laugh bubbled from her lips, light and teasing, but the faint pink on her cheeks betrayed her own fluttering heart.
Ryoma's gaze lingered, unwavering. "I'm just telling the truth."
Chisato pressed a hand to her chest dramatically, pretending to swoon. "Ahh, what do I do?"
"The genius Murakami is actually smooth! My poor heart can't keep up!"
Ryoma chuckled softly, just a little too proud of himself. "What's wrong? Is your heart beating fast now?"
Chisato giggled—light and melodic—but as she looked at him, her smile softened into something gentler.
"No," she said lightly, almost as if sharing a secret. "Actually… my heart isn't beating at all."
Ryoma blinked. "Huh?"
She tapped a finger against her chest, smiling—not sad, not dramatic, just… honest.
"My real heart stopped a long time ago. Now I'm running on an artificial one. Cool, right?" She even added a playful little wink, as if daring him to be impressed.
The words hung in the air, simple yet heavy.
Ryoma's confident composure faltered. His eyes dropped, guilt flickering in his gaze before something steadier took root.
"…System, shutdown."
The sleek AI interface on his glasses flickered away, leaving only clear glass. No overlays. No distractions. Just her.
Slowly, Ryoma rose to his feet, his movements heavier now. "Chisato…"
"Ah—don't make that face," she said quickly, laughing softly as if to cut the tension. "I'm fine, really! This heart hasn't stopped me from doing anything I love. If anything, it makes me special, don't you think?"
But Ryoma's gaze didn't waver. Behind the calm, there was a quiet fire burning.
"If one day that artificial heart fails," he said, his voice steady and low, "I'll fix it myself. Or build you a new one. Stronger. Better. Something that'll keep you smiling."
Chisato blinked, a little caught off guard. Then her grin softened into a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes.
"…Then I'll be counting on you, Doctor Murakami," she said, her tone playful yet touched with sincerity—her heart, mechanical or not, fluttering all the same.
Ryoma gave a casual nod, then glanced sideways with a teasing smirk.
"So... aren't you buying something for Takina too? Don't worry, I'm still the one paying."
Chisato's eyes instantly lit up like fireworks.
"Eh?! Really?! Yes, yes, yes! We have to find something super fashionable for her!"
"Something cute—but also so Takina!" She was practically vibrating with joy, already dragging him toward the next section.
And just like that, they plunged into a chaotic whirlwind of clothing racks, color palettes, and the occasional.
Chisato was on a mission, doing her best to rein in Ryoma's over-the-top generosity—though she failed every time he casually tossed something into the bag like it was pocket change.
After picking out adorable outfits for Takina and little souvenirs for the café crew, their arms were loaded with shopping bags and their hearts light with laughter.
Chisato changed back into her usual outfit, carefully folding and packing the dress and new clothes away.
Then they strolled into the Gourmet & Food Hall.
The moment they entered, the warm, savory scent of grilled meats and sweet desserts hit them like a tidal wave.
Chisato froze for half a second—then her stomach growled loud enough to turn a few heads.
Without missing a beat, she beamed and patted her belly proudly. "Ah, you hear that? Even my stomach's hyped up!"
Ryoma blinked at her, lips twitching as if trying not to laugh. "Seriously... you're impossible."
Chisato only laughed, already tugging him toward the nearest stall.
"Come on! If we don't start eating now, I might actually pass out—and that's on you!"
Then her eyes sparkled as she spun in place, scanning the food stalls like a kid in a candy store.
"This place is amazing! I want ramen, and takoyaki, and—oooh—is that a crêpe stand?!"
Ryoma chuckled softly. "At this rate, we might need another shopping bag just for your food."
Chisato gasped, grabbing his arm. "Don't tempt me, Ryoma!"
Ryoma was already scanning the menu with the intensity of a tactician preparing for battle.
"I'll go with the seafood paella. How about you, Chisato?"
She leaned in, her eyes gleaming as they darted across the menu like a hunter stalking her prey.
"Oh man... everything looks amazing..." she muttered, biting her lip in deep, dramatic indecision. "But... okay! I'm going with the Italian truffle pasta."
Ryoma flashed a knowing smile. "Buona scelta (good choice)," he said smoothly, his Italian flawless.
Chisato gasped, hands flying to her cheeks.
"Oh? Certo, signore! (Oh? of course sir!)" she replied with exaggerated flair, breaking into a playful giggle.
Their food arrived shortly after, and the moment Chisato took her first bite, she froze mid-chew.
"Oh my god..." she said reverently. "This is divine. Ryoma. Ryo. Ma. Try this. You'll cry actual tears of joy."
Ryoma chuckled, watching her practically melt into her seat with every bite.
"I'll let you keep the joy to yourself," he said softly, secretly pleased by the sight of her enjoying herself so openly.
Then, in between forkfuls, Chisato squinted at him. Something about him felt different—cooler, somehow.
Her eyes drifted up to his hair, catching the way the lights danced against the strands.
"I forgot to ask you something," said Chisato, leaning closer. "Did you dye your hair again?"
Ryoma glanced up from his paella, chewing with a completely straight face.
"Yeah. I went home and changed it right after leaving your café."
Chisato tilted her head, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Oooh~ why? Did you lose a bet? Or is this the 'my punk rock phase' moment?"
He set down his fork, tone calm but deliberate. "It means freedom. Rebellion."
"Blue like the open sky," Ryoma explained quietly, his gaze drifting upward as if seeing something only he could.
"And changing my hair from the brown I shared with my father... it's my way of saying I'm not like him."
He paused, his tone firming up. "I don't want to be like him."
Chisato froze, spoon hovering midair, before setting it down slowly. Her playful grin softened into something gentler, though her eyes still sparkled.
"So… your hair's basically a rebellion flag? Your declaration of independence?" she said, tone light but edged with understanding.
"Exactly," Ryoma replied, voice low. "I used to be just like him. Followed every rule. Did what I was told. But now… everything's different."
His eyes met hers—steady, unflinching, raw honesty.
For once, Chisato didn't crack a joke right away. She tilted her head, then let out a small laugh and smiled wide, warmth radiating from her expression.
"Y'know… I like this version of you," she said brightly. "Ryoma the Rebel has a nice ring to it."
He chuckled—a short, genuine sound that slipped out despite himself. "You think so?"
"Mmhmm~," Chisato hummed, immediately popping another spoonful into her mouth with a cheeky grin.
"Though I might be biased. I mean, who else gets to have dinner with a certified rebel? That's like… premium bragging rights."
They finished the meal in a peaceful lull, the kind of silence that doesn't need filling. Comfortable. Close.
Then, just as Ryoma reached for his glass, Chisato perked up.
"Oooh! Dessert!" she declared triumphantly, waving down the server like she was flagging a taxi.
Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "You already ate an entire plate of pasta."
Chisato grinned, eyes sparkling. "I burn calories with joy. Besides, sweets don't go to the stomach. They go to the soul."
Moments later, a slice of fluffy cake arrived—covered in strawberries and an amount of whipped cream.
"You've got quite the sweet tooth," Ryoma commented, watching her dig in with childlike enthusiasm.
"Oh, I can't resist desserts," she beamed between bites. "They call to me. Like destiny."
Just then, Ryoma's phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at it—an incoming call from one of his employees.
"Excuse me," he said quietly, picking it up and stepping aside.
Chisato nodded, still chewing. She watched him from her seat, head tilted, spoon resting gently against her cheek.
"Hello? Is something wrong?" Ryoma asked, already sensing that something was off.
But the voice that answered wasn't his employee's.
"Good afternoon, boss."
That voice. Cold. Familiar. Unmistakable.
Tatsuma.
Ryoma's jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed.
"I've beaten up your employees and taken their phones," Tatsuma said, his tone chillingly casual.
"There's something I need to tell you, Ryoma." Silence hung for a split second—thick, electric.
Ryoma's voice dropped to a whisper. "System, turn on."
A soft chime responded in his glasses, lines of code scrolling into the corner of his vision. But before he could say another word—
"Oh?" Tatsuma chuckled darkly. "Preparing already? Good. Then I won't waste your time."
"I'm going to attack you."
Ryoma's eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh? Coming after me again? You sure you're not tired of losing?"
"No. Not you, personally," Tatsuma replied, a cruel edge laced in his words. "I'm going to attack Murakami. Your company. Your people. Everything."
"And I'll start very soon."
Then—click.
The line went dead.
For a moment, the world around Ryoma muted—the buzz of the food court faded beneath a rising hum of adrenaline. His fingers clenched around the phone.
He turned sharply.
Chisato had just finished her dessert, a satisfied grin on her face as she set the spoon down. But the moment their eyes met, her smile faltered.
Ryoma drained his drink in one motion and stood. His voice was low and urgent.
"Chisato. There's an emergency."
She straightened instantly, alert. "Emergency?"
Chisato shot up from her seat the moment Ryoma moved.
"Yeah—let's go."
Without hesitation, Ryoma grabbed her hand and bolted, weaving through the crowd with urgency that set Chisato's heart racing.
She didn't need to ask-she could feel it. Something was very, very wrong.
They burst into the car. As soon as the doors sealed, the seatbelts clicked into place on their own, and Ryoma floored the accelerator.
The car tore out of the parking structure, tires screeching against the concrete.
Ryoma's fingers flew over the console, trying to trace the phone.
Nothing.
Of course. Of course.
Tatsuma wasn't stupid—Ryoma's devices were built with untraceable encryption. Privacy above all else.
Even Ryoma couldn't bypass it without consent. And Tatsuma knew that.
"What's going on?" Chisato asked, gripping the edge of her seat.
"Saving my employees," Ryoma replied sharply, his eyes locked on the road.
A memory sparked—one of his junior staff. Always bought bread during break time. Same bakery. Same hour.
Ryoma had noticed that detail during their countless little chats, half-listening while he worked.
He spun the wheel hard.
Minutes later, they screeched to a halt outside a small, tucked—away bakery.
Ryoma barely waited for the car to stop-his seatbelt clicked off, the door flung open, and he was running.
Chisato followed without a word, sprinting after him into a narrow, dim alleyway.
"Flashlight, turn on," Ryoma commanded.
A thin beam of white light burst from the edge of his glasses, slicing through the darkness.
And there, at the far end of the alley-
A man lay crumpled against the wall. Blood smeared his shirt. His breaths were shallow.
"Damn it..." Ryoma hissed, his fists clenching.
Chisato gasped, her breath catching as her eyes fell on the man slumped against the wall-bloodied, bruised, and barely conscious.
"Who did this?" she whispered, her voice shaking with a mix of fury and disbelief.
Her usual cheer faded into raw concern, eyes narrowing.
Ryoma, already tapping the side of his glasses, spoke with cold urgency.
"Hello? We need an ambulance at the alley next to the bakery near the Murakami Tech building. Now."
"Someone's collapsed—serious injuries."
As the call ended, Ryoma knelt beside the man, his expression unreadable.
He checked for valuables, confirming nothing had been stolen..
Moments later, the ambulance pulled up, medics rushing in to lift the man onto a stretcher.
Chisato stood rooted to the ground, her fists tight at her sides. Her voice, usually light, carried a sharp edge now.
"Was this Tatsuma's doing?" she muttered, anger seeping through her tone. "That bastard…"
She turned to Ryoma, but the look on his face said everything—hard, cold, fury locked behind his eyes.
"Attacking my employee…" he growled. "That's a declaration of war."
His words hung heavy in the air. Then, with effort, he softened his voice, turning toward her.
"Chisato, I'm sorry. I'll take you home. There's something I need to deal with."
Chisato's gaze lingered on the empty stretcher being wheeled away, her chest tightening.
She drew a steadying breath, then met his eyes—hers steady, unwavering.
"No," she said firmly. "I'm not leaving."
Ryoma blinked at her, caught off guard.
Chisato stepped closer, her tone calm but resolute. "Someone attacked your people. That matters to you—so it matters to me too."
"If you're walking into something dangerous, then I'm staying close. That's not negotiable."
Her lips curved just slightly, but there was no mistaking the steel in her expression.
"Besides… if you're planning to do something reckless, someone's gotta be there to stop you."
For a long moment, Ryoma only studied her, silent. Then, at last, he gave a quiet nod.
"Alright," he said. His voice was low, steady. "Let's go."
The car purred to life and glided through the city streets, silence hanging between them—not awkward, just heavy with unspoken thoughts.
After a long drive, the towering Murakami estate finally came into view, its gates parting without a sound.
Once inside the garage, the car eased to a stop. Ryoma stepped out first, Chisato following, her eyes sweeping over the mansion's opulent architecture with quiet curiosity.
As they entered the main hall, a maid bowed politely. "Welcome back, young master. Miss Chisato."
Chisato gave a quick little wave, still not quite used to being addressed so formally. "Ah—yup, hello! Back again~"
Ryoma's voice was sharp but calm. "Where are my parents?"
"In the living room, young master."
"Thanks." He started walking, Chisato falling into step beside him.
They turned the corner and entered the spacious living room—modern elegance wrapped in warm hues.
There sat Masaru and Saeko Murakami, poised as ever.
Masaru's brow arched slightly. "Is your date over already?"
"Don't joke around. This is serious," Ryoma said, his tone dropping a few degrees colder as he took a seat across from them.
Chisato hesitated for a moment, then sat beside him, a bit more composed but still flustered.
Ayaka quietly joined them, standing behind the sofa.
"Serious?" Saeko leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp. "Explain."
Ryoma didn't hesitate. "One of our employees was attacked. Badly."
"Tatsuma was behind it... and he left a message—he's coming for Murakami."
A chill swept through the room as his words sank in.
He continued, explaining every detail he had observed, every clue he'd pieced together, his voice unwavering.
When he finished, silence hung heavy in the air. Masaru's face darkened.
"So... he's finally making his move."
Chisato listened closely as the air in the room grew heavier, tension pulsing beneath the surface.
Then, without warning, Saeko's gaze shifted.
"So... the red-eyed woman beside Ryoma," she said, her tone calm but laced with quiet intensity.
Chisato blinked, startled for a moment before straightening in her seat.
"Yes?" she answered, her voice polite, eyes meeting Saeko's directly.
"Do you have any idea how to defeat him?"
The question cut through the room like a blade. Chisato paused, caught off guard by the directness—but only for a moment.
"Well, I can't just come up with a brilliant plan the second you toss me a question like that," she said lightly, flashing a small smile in an effort to ease the tension. "But..."
Her eyes glinted with renewed energy.
"I do think we should start by tracking him down immediately. No waiting."
She turned to Ryoma, bright as ever.
"You can deploy your drones around the city to search for him, right?"
Ryoma's lips curved into a smile, genuine and approving. "Good idea, Chisato."
Chisato beamed back, proud of the recognition. "I know, I'm full of good ideas."
But before the warm moment could linger, Saeko—Ryoma's mother—cut in sharply, her voice cool and biting.
"Everyone with a brain would've thought of that."
The words hung in the air like an insult dressed as logic.
Ryoma didn't even flinch. His smile faded, his gaze cold as steel.
"Shut up," he said flatly. "At least Chisato can fight unlike you."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Even Masaru raised an eyebrow at his son's bluntness, while Ayaka looked away.
"Geez, Ryoma... you didn't have to go that hard," she whispered, trying not to grin.
He didn't answer, but his expression said it all—he meant every word.
Chisato shifted in her seat, watching the awkward family tension unfold like a low—budget soap opera.
"Uhhh... hey, hey!" she chimed in with an overly bright smile, waving her hands like she was breaking up a playground fight.
"Let's not argue, okay? Team spirit, people! Let's focus on saving the day first, drama later!"
Ryoma let out a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, you're right."
Chisato gave him a thumbs-up like a cheerful coach on the sidelines. "There we go! Progress!"
Ayaka crossed her arms, her tone sharp and steady. "We can't just stand by while Murakami's employees keep getting attacked. We need a plan—and fast."
Ryoma gave a nod, more serious this time.
Just then, Masaru—silent like he was waiting for his cue in a stage play—finally spoke up, his eyes landing on Ryoma and Chisato.
"You two seem pretty close," he said, voice as dry as burnt toast.
Chisato blinked, then tilted her head with a grin. "Close? Well, sure—we've been spending time together, haven't we?"
She shot Ryoma a sidelong glance, her tone light but steady. "I mean, I wouldn't be hanging around if he was boring."
Masaru didn't reply. He just stood up, his presence suddenly going full action-hero mode.
"Tatsuma will attack soon. Be ready."
He gave them a stern look. "Got it?"
Chisato practically bounced in her seat, hands clasped like a fangirl. "Ooooh, dramatic exit lines! I love this part!"
Ryoma groaned. "Why are you acting cool all of a sudden, old man?"
She leaned over to Ryoma, eyes sparkling. "Come on, let him have his big moment."
Meanwhile, Ayaka, who had been quietly watching the scene unfold, muttered under her breath, her expression unreadable.
"Even if it kills me... I can't tell him..."
She sighed, barely above a whisper. "Some secrets go with you to the grave."
Unfortunately for her, Chisato had a sixth sense for suspicious mumbling-and excellent hearing when it came to potential gossip.
"Huh? Ayakaaa, what was that just now?" Chisato asked, leaning in with the curiosity of a cat spotting a laser pointer.
Ayaka jumped slightly, flustered. "A-Ah! No! Nothing at all! Just... thinking about Tatsuma. Yeah! That guy. Schemes and stuff."
Chisato nodded with a mock-serious look, tapping her chin thoughtfully.
"Mmm, tactical scheming. Very shady. Totally a valid thing to mutter darkly about."
She gave Ayaka a playful wink. "But seriously, I get it. We're all trying to figure out what that guy's really up to."
Ayaka let out a relieved breath. "Right..."
Across the room, Saeko was watching Ayaka closely—like she knew there was more to that mutter than just enemy plans.
Ayaka caught the stare and nearly slipped, the truth threatening to spill from her lips like an overloaded water balloon. She quickly looked away.
Unbeknownst to her, another set of eyes had been watching from the side.
Ryoma.
After their chat with Ryoma's parents, the two of them walked down the silent corridor.
Ryoma was going to take her home—but the silence between them had stretched just a little too long.
It wasn't awkward for Ryoma, of course. But Chisato? She was practically itching to fill the quiet.
"So," she blurted out, glancing up at him, "those rings your parents wore—they look super fancy."
Ryoma glanced at her. "They're heirlooms. Passed down from generation to generation."
"Ohhh, I see. Very noble clan vibes," she said dramatically, clasping her hands like she was in a historical drama.
"Let me guess—only the family head gets to wear one?"
Ryoma nodded. "And their partner."
Chisato paused, blinking. Then she grinned slyly, elbowing him playfully.
"Oho? Sooo... does that mean you're destined to wear it someday?"
"Eventually," Ryoma replied simply.
Chisato leaned in closer, smirking. "And~ have you found anyone to wear the other ring with you?"
Ryoma raised an eyebrow. "Does that really matter now?"
She laughed, hands behind her back as she leaned away again.
"Maybe not now, young master. But someday, it'll matter a lot. You can't exactly marry your AI assistant."
"I could," Ryoma said deadpan. "At least she listens."
"That sounds pathetic, to be honest," she said, lips twitching with amusement.
"Yes, you're right," Ryoma nodded.
She giggled, then looked up at him again—eyes soft this time.
"But when that time comes... I hope you choose someone who makes you smile more like this."
Ryoma didn't answer. But the corners of his mouth lifted just a little.
Still, even amid stolen glances and subtle smiles, one truth remained: Tatsuma's next move was looming. Everyone could feel it in the air.
But for now, just for today... Chisato and Ryoma walked a little closer than before.