That night, Arthur Leonhart sat alone in his penthouse, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the city lights flicker below. The amber liquid caught the glow of the chandelier as he swirled it slowly.
He was in a good mood.
The Kinatarou alliance was worth more than a dozen Uzushi marriages. And the boy—the Wolf—had been entertaining. Worth every yen of the deal.
He set down his glass and picked up his phone.
"Conrad. Bring your wives. Now."
---
Twenty minutes later, Conrad Leonhart strode into the penthouse like a prince returning to his throne.
His arms were wrapped around two of his wives—the third and the fifth, if Arthur remembered correctly. The others trailed behind, silent and stiff, their faces masks of practiced emptiness. None of them looked at Conrad the way a wife should look at a husband. None of them smiled.
I never noticed, Arthur thought. Or maybe I never cared to.
Sophia walked at the back of the group, her posture immaculate, her expression unreadable. But her hands were clasped so tightly in front of her that her knuckles had gone white.
She's terrified of tomorrow.
Arthur gestured to the long couch. "Sit."
Conrad dropped onto the cushions, pulling two wives down beside him. The others found seats on adjacent chairs. Sophia remained standing—until Arthur's gaze settled on her, and she slowly sat at the edge of the couch, as far from Conrad as possible.
Arthur didn't stand. He remained behind the bar, swirling his whiskey, not looking directly at any of them.
Like a CEO announcing layoffs.
"I've made a decision regarding the wedding," he said. His voice was flat. Calm. Almost bored.
Conrad leaned forward, smiling. "Father, I was just saying—"
"You'll speak when I finish."
Conrad's smile faltered. The wives stiffened.
Arthur took a slow sip.
"The wedding is cancelled."
Silence.
Then Conrad shot to his feet. "What?"
Arthur didn't flinch. "Sit down."
Conrad didn't sit. His face had gone red, veins bulging at his temples.
Arthur sighed and set down his glass. He didn't repeat himself.
"The Uzushi family has withdrawn from the arrangement," he continued. "I've agreed to their withdrawal. Additionally, effective immediately, you will divorce all your wives."
One of the wives—the first, the oldest—gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Another covered her face with trembling fingers.
Conrad's jaw dropped. "You can't do that! The contracts—"
"I wrote the contracts." Arthur's voice was ice. "I can burn them."
Finally, he looked at his son. Not with anger. With something worse.
Disappointment.
"You've been a useful fool, Conrad. But your usefulness has expired."
He gestured to the wives.
"Each of you will receive a settlement. Enough to live comfortably. You're free to go."
The first wife whispered, "Why?"
Arthur's gaze shifted to Sophia—who sat frozen, her golden eyes wide, her lips parted.
"Because a Kinatarou asked me to. And because I'd rather do business with wolves than with sheep."
He stood, signaling the conversation was over.
"The divorce papers will be delivered tomorrow. Sign them. Leave. You're no longer Leonhart wives."
Conrad exploded.
He grabbed a crystal glass from the side table and hurled it at the wall. It shattered, spraying shards across the marble floor.
"YOU CAN'T—!"
He lunged toward Arthur.
Two guards materialized from the shadows and caught him mid-stride, restraining his arms behind his back. Conrad thrashed, cursing, spittle flying from his lips.
Arthur didn't move.
"You're weak, Conrad," he said quietly. "You always have been. That's why I never gave you real power."
He turned his back on his son.
"Get him out of my sight."
The guards dragged Conrad toward the elevator, his screams echoing off the walls until the doors closed and swallowed them.
Silence settled over the penthouse like dust.
Arthur looked at the wives—still sitting, still frozen, still processing.
"You're free," he said simply. "Take the money. Start over. Don't look back."
He walked toward his bedroom, pausing by Sophia.
"Sophia."
She flinched.
"You should return home. Your parents are waiting."
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then the first wife—the woman who had been married to Conrad for ten years—let out a sound. Not a sob. Not a laugh.
Something between.
Arthur touched Sophia's shoulder gently.
"You're free, child."
Sophia looked up at him, tears already spilling down her cheeks.
"Who..." Sophia's voice cracked. "Who did this?"
Arthur smiled—small, weary, but genuine.
"The Wolf. The one they call the Phantom." He squeezed Sophia's shoulder. "He came alone and bargained for your freedom. Remember his name."
The first wife stood and walked toward the elevator, the other wives following one by one. Some were crying. Some were laughing with disbelieving relief.
One of them paused at the door and looked back at Sophia.
"Tell him... tell your friend that he saved more than just you tonight."
Her gaze swept over the departing wives.
"He saved all of us."
The elevator doors closed.
Sophia sat alone in the vast penthouse, trembling, tears streaming down her face.
Yuki.
The Uzushi estate felt different when Sophia returned.
The gates opened without hesitation. The maids bowed lower than usual. There was a lightness in the air—a weight lifted.
Her mother was waiting at the entrance.
The moment Sophia stepped through the door, her mother's arms wrapped around her, crushing her in an embrace so tight it almost hurt.
"I'm sorry," her mother sobbed into her hair. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we tried to sell you off like that. I'm sorry I didn't fight harder. I'm sorry—"
Sophia stood still, frozen, her arms hanging at her sides.
Her father appeared behind her mother. His face was pale, his eyes red. He looked older than she remembered.
"We're sorry, Sophia," he said, his voice rough. "We failed you. As parents. As protectors."
Sophia said nothing.
She looked past them, into the empty hallway, and asked, "How are we going to cope now?"
Her mother pulled back, wiping her eyes. Her father stepped forward.
"The Kinatarou boy—Yuki—he came to us," he said. "He convinced us to call off the wedding. Then he went to Arthur Leonhart himself and bargained for your freedom."
"He formed an alliance with the Leonharts and us too," her mother added. "In exchange for calling off the wedding and freeing Conrad's wives."
Sophia's expression didn't change.
But tears rolled down her cheeks—uncontrollable, silent, endless.
He did all that.
For me.
And we're not even that close.
She looked down at her hands, trembling in her lap.
How far would he go?
How far would he go for someone he barely knows?
Kyorin Residence — Same Night
Seri Kyorin sat cross-legged on her bed, wearing an oversized hoodie that swallowed her frame. Her hair was a mess—no ribbons, no styling. Dark circles shadowed her eyes.
In her hands was a very large bucket of ice cream.
The TV played some romantic comedy she wasn't watching. She was just... eating. Staring. Existing.
She looked like a completely different person.
The girl who ruled Kyorin High with an iron smile had vanished. In her place sat someone broken, tired, and deeply in love with a boy she'd pushed away.
Knock, knock.
"Go away," Seri said automatically.
The door opened anyway.
Ren and Emi stepped inside.
They stopped dead at the sight of her.
Emi's jaw dropped. "Seri... you look terrible."
"Thanks," Seri muttered, shoveling another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. "Anything else?"
Ren crossed his arms, studying her. Dark eyes. Messy hair. An empty bucket already discarded on the floor, and another hidden behind her back.
She's been at this for hours.
Emi squatted in front of Seri and snatched the ice cream bucket away.
"Hey—!"
"How many of these do you have?" Emi demanded.
Seri glared at her. Then, slowly, she reached behind the couch and pulled out another bucket.
Emi's eye twitched. "HOW MANY?!"
"Enough."
Ren walked closer, looking down at his cousin—the cousin he had always admired, always envied, always tried to impress.
She looked pathetic.
"You're sulking," he said flatly. "Over a guy who isn't even your boyfriend. And the worst part is, you haven't even told him how you feel."
Seri stared at him.
For a moment, anger flickered across her face. Then it faded, replaced by exhaustion.
"I know," she whispered. "I know I'm pathetic. But..." She looked down at her hands. "It would take a miracle for Yuki to even speak with me again. After what I said..."
Emi sighed and sat on the bed beside her.
"Then why not focus on fixing things," Emi said, "instead of sulking?"
She reached out and patted Seri's head—gently, like a sister.
"You made a mistake. Now go fix it."
Seri's eyes widened.
Then, slowly, something ignited behind them.
"You're right."
She sprang to her feet, nearly knocking Emi off the bed.
"I need to make things right. I need to apologize. I need to—"
"You need to remember you were never dating," Ren interrupted.
Seri hit him on the head.
"OW—"
"Shut up." She was already moving, grabbing clothes from her wardrobe, her energy returning like a tide rushing back to shore. "I'll go tomorrow afternoon. Saturday. I'll find him and I'll make things right."
Emi smiled.
Ren rubbed his head and muttered, "At least she's back to hitting me."
The Next Morning — Kinatarou Machiya
Yuki woke up on the couch.
Sunlight streamed through the paper screens, casting warm golden rectangles across the tatami. He had given the bed to Yukari and Luna last night—not that they'd asked. He just... wanted them to be comfortable.
His phone buzzed.
He fumbled for it, still half-asleep, and answered.
"Kinatarou."
Lord Genji's voice was sharp, immediate, and utterly lacking in pleasantries.
"Come to the Kyorin residence immediately. We're leaving for your training."
Yuki sat up straight. "What? Today? But we scheduled it for Wednesday—"
"The earlier the better," Genji cut him off. "Don't be late."
The line went dead.
Yuki stared at the phone.
"Kira," he said.
"Yes?"
"He moved the date."
"I noticed."
"Why?"
"Perhaps he's eager to break you. Or perhaps he simply changed his mind. Does it matter?"
Yuki sighed, ran a hand through his messy hair, and stood up.
He packed quickly—a few changes of clothes, toiletries, the black earpiece. The ice dagger sat on the shelf. He looked at it for a long moment, then tucked it into his bag.
Just in case.
He showered, dressed in comfortable travel clothes, and went to wake the girls.
"Yukari. Luna. Wake up."
Yukari stirred first, groaning, pulling the blanket over her head. "Five more minutes..."
"Can't. I'm leaving."
Yukari's eyes snapped open.
She sat up so fast she nearly headbutted him. Her eyes darted to the backpack slung over his shoulder, then back to his face.
"Leaving? For what? Where?"
Yuki scratched the back of his head. "Training. With Lord Genji. Remember? I told you about it."
"But that's not until—" Yukari's voice caught. "Wednesday. It's not Wednesday."
"He moved it up."
Yukari stared at him. Her lower lip trembled.
She was wearing only panties and a sleeveless shirt—her usual sleeping attire—and she didn't seem to care. She scrambled off the bed and stood in front of him.
"It's too soon," she said, her voice wavering. "Luna and I—we're not ready for you to leave yet."
Luna, who had woken during the commotion, clutched Yuki's sleeve.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her black eyes wide and glistening.
Yuki crouched down to her level.
"I'm going on a little trip," he said softly. "I might be gone for a while. But I'll come back. I promise."
Tears welled in Luna's eyes. "Can I go with you?"
Yuki rubbed her head gently. "You can't. You have to stay here and look after Yukari." He smiled. "Otherwise she might get herself into trouble. Can you do that for me? Can you take care of her?"
Luna bit her lower lip, fighting back tears. Then she nodded—fierce, determined.
"I'll protect her," she whispered.
Yuki stood and faced Yukari.
She was biting her lip, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears.
"Yuki..."
She hugged him.
Tight. Desperate. Like she was afraid he'd dissolve into mist if she let go.
"How long?" she asked, her voice muffled against his chest.
"A few months. Maybe."
She squeezed harder.
"If you don't let go," Yuki wheezed, "I'll be dead in a few seconds. You're choking me."
She immediately released him, stepping back, cheeks flushing.
"Sorry."
Yuki grinned, grabbed his bag, and waved.
"Be good, you two."
The door closed behind him.
Yukari stood in the middle of the room, staring at the door.
Luna slipped her hand into Yukari's.
"He'll come back," Luna said. "He promised."
Yukari squeezed her hand and forced a smile.
"Yeah. He always does."
Kyorin Residence — Morning
The jeep was already waiting in the courtyard.
Lord Genji stood beside it, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Tetsu sat in the driver's seat, his massive hands resting on the steering wheel, his stone-skin faintly shimmering in the morning light.
Yuki approached and bowed.
"Lord Genji. Tetsu-san."
Genji looked him over—the healed arm, the fresh scars, the dark circles under his eyes.
"Go say goodbye to Seri first," he said.
Yuki swallowed.
He walked inside.
The hallways of the Kyorin mansion were quiet. His footsteps echoed off the polished floors. He knew where Seri's room was—she had shown him during one of his visits.
He reached the door.
Knock, he should have knocked.
He didn't.
He opened it and stepped inside.
And froze.
Seri stood in the middle of the room.
She was wearing only white panties and a white bra.
Her body was a work of art—an ample chest that strained against the lace, a narrow waist that curved into gentle hips, legs that seemed to go on forever. Her flat stomach had the faintest trace of abs—muscle earned through years of training, hidden beneath soft curves.
Neither of them moved.
Yuki's nose began to bleed.
One word escaped his lips, breaking the silence like a stone through glass.
"Sexy."
Seri's face turned a shade of red that should have been impossible.
She crossed the room in three furious strides and slapped him.
The impact was magnificent.
Yuki's body twisted in the air. He landed on his back with a thud, cheek stinging, the imprint of her hand already blooming across his face.
"PERVERT!" she shrieked.
She sprinted to her wardrobe, threw herself inside, and slammed the door.
Yuki lay on the floor, rubbing his cheek.
Totally worth it.
He stood up slowly, walked to her bed, and sat down to wait.
A few minutes later, the wardrobe door cracked open.
Seri peeked out, saw him sitting on her bed, and scowled.
"You're still here."
"I'm waiting."
She emerged, now wearing a white sundress that made her look like she belonged on a magazine cover. Her hair was still messy, but somehow it worked.
"Have you forgotten how to knock?" she demanded.
Yuki shrugged. "I'm happy I didn't."
Her face reddened again. "Pervert."
She sat down beside him—close, but not touching.
The silence stretched.
Seri spoke first.
"I was going to visit you this afternoon. To apologize."
Yuki nodded. "I know. Your cousins told me."
Her eyes widened. "They... you saw them?"
"No, they texted."
She looked down at her hands.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Everything I said that night—about you being weak, about needing my protection—it was all lies. I didn't mean any of it. I was embarrassed and Emi was pushing me and I just... I panicked."
Yuki was quiet for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"There's no need to apologize."
He put an arm around her shoulder—casual, easy, like nothing had changed.
"Not even the universe can tear us apart," he said. "A petty squabble like that? Nothing."
Seri laughed—a wet, surprised sound.
"That's so corny."
"I know." Yuki grinned. "I've always wanted to say it."
The laughter faded.
Yuki stood up.
"Seri."
She looked up at him.
"I don't want you protecting me anymore."
Her heart sank. Her eyes dropped to the floor.
He's still angry. He's still—
Yuki's fingers caught her chin and lifted her face.
Their eyes met.
"I'll be the one protecting you from now on."
Seri's breath caught.
Her eyes watered. Her face flushed.
"When I come back," Yuki continued, "I'll be stronger. Strong enough to protect everyone. Including you."
"Promise?" she whispered.
"I promise." He held up his hand, fingers crossed over his heart. "Cross my heart and hope to die."
Seri laughed—a real laugh, bright and warm.
She was relieved.
But she still hadn't said it.
Say it. Say it now.
"Yuki."
"Yeah?"
"Kiss me."
He blinked. "What?"
She stood up, her heart hammering against her ribs.
"I want to be your first kiss."
Yuki's face went pink. "But... people only kiss people they love."
Seri nodded.
She cupped his face with both hands—gentle, trembling, terrified.
Then she leaned in.
Their lips were inches apart.
"Please," she whispered. "Let me be your first kiss."
She closed the distance.
Their lips met.
Soft. Warm. Trembling.
Seri kissed him gently, savoring every second. Her right hand slid into his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands. Her left hand rested on his abdomen, feeling the muscle beneath his shirt shift.
She guided his hand to her waist.
He didn't pull away.
She deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth, tasting him—winter and rain and something uniquely him.
When she finally pulled back, she was out of breath.
Her cheeks were flushed. Her lips were parted.
And Yuki...
Yuki's face was red.
Not pink. Not flushed.
Crimson.
His eyes were wide. His mouth was slightly open. He looked... flustered. Disarmed. Completely undone.
Seri stared at him.
I've never seen him like this.
Not once.
Not during battles. Not during tournaments. Not when he faced down killers.
I made him blush.
The realization sent a surge of warmth through her chest.
Then she said it.
"I love you, Yuki Kinatarou."
Yuki's eyes widened.
He looked away.
And Seri understood.
He doesn't feel the same way.
But she didn't cry. Didn't falter.
"I know you don't feel the same," she said softly. "You don't have to say anything. Just..." She smiled. "Think of it as me courting you. I'll make you fall in love with me. And then you'll be mine forever."
"I'm sorry—"
She kissed him again—quick, soft, cutting off the apology.
When she pulled back, he was even redder.
She pointed at his face and laughed.
"You're blushing so much! I've never seen you like this before, my darling."
She felt bold now. Liberated. The secret was out, and the world hadn't ended.
"Hurry up and come back," she said. "I need to make you fall in love with me fast."
Yuki rubbed the back of his neck, still flustered.
"I wish you luck," he said. "Maybe you'll take my heart."
Maybe.
That wasn't a no.
Seri's heart soared.
They walked out together—Seri glowing, Yuki still red—and found Lord Genji waiting by the jeep.
"Finally," Genji muttered.
Yuki climbed into the front passenger seat.
Genji grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the back.
"The front is mine," Genji said, settling into the seat with the air of a king claiming his throne.
Seri laughed.
"He's still an idiot."
The jeep rumbled to life and pulled away.
Seri watched until it disappeared through the gates.
The dark cloud that had hung over her for days had lifted.
She touched her lips.
I kissed him.
I told him I loved him.
And he didn't run away.
She covered her face with both hands, her cheeks burning.
If I hadn't held back... I might have pulled him into bed.
She laughed—a little hysterical, a little giddy.
Even though he hadn't said it back.
Even though he didn't love her.
She was happy.
The happiest she'd been in a long time.