The day of the celebration arrived quietly. Morning light filtered through the wide glass windows in soft sheets of pale gold, stretching across the tatami floors and polished wood like something gentle and fleeting. The house had already awakened long before sunrise, but there was no chaos, no raised voices. Instead, everything moved with quiet precision.
Servants stepped carefully through the halls, carrying trays of accessories, folded garments, and lacquered boxes. Every movement was deliberate. Every detail had already been decided and was now being executed without hesitation. Soft voices drifted in the background confirmations, reminders, small corrections.
Reina sat exactly where she had been told. She did not move. Her hands rested neatly in her lap, fingers lightly intertwined beneath the long sleeves of her kimono. Her posture was straight, obedient, and still, but her heart refused to follow that same discipline. It beat too quickly, too unevenly, as though it could not decide whether to run or remain.
Behind her, her mother-in-law stood with a comb in hand.
"Hold still," she said gently.
Reina nodded at once. The comb moved through her hair slowly, carefully, smoothing each strand with quiet attention. Reina had always worn her hair forward, letting it fall like a curtain that separated her from the world. It was habit. It was safety.
But today her mother-in-law did not allow it. The comb slipped through again, and then, gradually, her hair was drawn back. Light touched her face. It was subtle at first, just a shift in warmth against her skin, but to Reina it felt overwhelming, as though something private had been exposed too suddenly.
Behind her, the woman froze. Her lips parted slightly.
"…Oh."
The sound escaped before she could stop it. Reina tensed immediately.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
The apology came out instinctively, without thought. Her mother-in-law blinked, startled.
"…For what?"
But Reina had already lowered her gaze, her shoulders drawing inward as though bracing for something unseen. The woman said nothing more. Instead, she reached for a small brush. Soft powder touched Reina's cheeks, light and careful, barely there. A faint color followed, brushing gently across her lips, a pale pink, like the first hint of sakura blossoms before full bloom.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing excessive.
Just enough.
And it was enough.
Even the servants nearby slowed. One paused mid-step. Another lowered their hands slightly, their attention caught despite themselves. Because the girl seated before them was not ugly.
She was breathtaking.
Her features were soft, delicate, and refined in a way that did not demand attention but quietly held it. There was a fragile beauty to her, something unguarded beneath the years of hiding. Her mother-in-law gently turned a mirror toward her.
"Look."
Reina's breath stopped. For a moment, she could not move.
Then her eyes lifted.
And she saw.
Her reflection.
Her own face: clear, unobstructed, unfamiliar.
Her eyes widened.
Then they snapped shut. Her hands lifted immediately, trembling as they reached for her hair.
"No... please..."
Her voice shook.
"Please… cover it." Reina begged.
Her mother-in-law frowned slightly.
"Reina?"
"They'll call me ugly," Reina whispered.
The words came quickly now, fragile and uneven, as though they had been waiting beneath the surface.
"They'll stare," she continued, her voice dropping further. "And you'll feel embarrassed… to have me there."
Her fingers tightened inside her sleeves.
"I don't want to shame the family."
The room fell silent. Her mother-in-law's expression softened, something deeper than sympathy passing through her eyes, something closer to heartbreak.
"No one will say that," she said gently.
But Reina shook her head.
Quickly.
Desperately.
"Please."
Her voice broke into a whisper.
"Please let me hide."
The woman hesitated. For a long moment, she simply looked at her. Then she sighed softly.
"…Alright."
She reached forward and allowed the front strands of Reina's hair to fall again—but not fully. Instead, she adjusted them carefully, trimming them just slightly so they formed soft, natural bangs. They shadowed Reina's eyes but did not completely conceal them.
"There," she said quietly.
Reina bowed deeply.
"…Thank you."
Hiro looked up when they entered. And for a moment he forgot how to breathe. She looked different. Not simply because of the silk she wore, or the subtle color brushed onto her face, or the way her hair had been styled. But because he could see her.
Even through the soft curtain of bangs, her features were visible in a way they had never been before. The shape of her face, the quiet symmetry, the softness that had always been hidden beneath shadows. He stared.
Silent.
His mother nudged him lightly.
"Hiro."
He blinked once, unsure.
"Your arm." His mother suggested.
He understood. Slowly, he extended it.
Reina hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping closer. Her fingers wrapped gently around his sleeve, her touch light and careful, as though she expected him to pull away.
He did not.
And together they walked out.
The hall glittered with light. Lanterns glowed warmly overhead, casting soft illumination across silk banners and polished floors. Music drifted through the air, delicate and refined, weaving between the quiet hum of conversation.
When they entered people noticed.
Heads turned.
Voices softened.
Whispers followed.
But not cruel ones.
Not mocking ones.
"She's beautiful…"
"Who is she?"
"The young master's wife?"
Reina did not hear it that way. To her, the whispers sounded the same as they always had.
They're staring.
Her fingers tightened slightly around Hiro's sleeve. Her chest began to tighten. Her breathing grew shallow.
Hiro leaned slightly toward her.
"…Stay here," he said quietly and pulling a seat at a reserved table. "I'll return shortly."
She nodded ans he stepped away.
And she was alone.
She sat carefully, her posture straight, her hands folded once more in her lap. The room felt too large.
Too bright.
Too full.
A tray passed by.
Without thinking, she reached for a glass. She took a sip. It burned.
Sharp.
Spiced.
Her brows drew together slightly, but she swallowed. Then she took another sip. And another.
"Are you… Sakura's sister?" A male's voice spoke behind her.
Reina looked up. Her breath caught immediately. He was familiar. A young man stood before her, dressed neatly in formal attire, his posture relaxed, his expression faintly curious. She recognized him at once.
It was Sakura's fiancé.
"…You're—" she began softly, surprised.
He smiled slightly, as though amused by her reaction.
"I didn't expect to see you here," he said. His gaze moved over her, slow and assessing. "You look… different."
Reina froze. His eyes lingered, studying her more carefully now.
"At home, you always kept your face hidden," he continued casually. "People said you were… well…"
He paused. Then said it anyway.
"…ugly."
The word landed quietly. But it struck deeply. Reina's fingers tightened in her sleeves. He tilted his head slightly, still looking at her.
"But now…" he added, almost thoughtfully, "you don't look the same."
Ugly.
Her breath grew shallow. Her heart began to pound.
"I almost didn't recognize you," he went on. "So it's true, then?"
He gestured lightly around the hall.
"You really married the young master of this family?"
Ugly.
Reina stared at him. But her vision was beginning to blur. The sounds of the room shifted. Voices blended together. Laughter sharpened. Footsteps echoed too loudly.
Ugly.
Ugly.
Ugly.
Her chest tightened painfully. The air felt too thin.
Too heavy.
Too much.
She pushed herself to her feet.
Too quickly.
The world tilted. The floor seemed to shift beneath her. Her vision spun and her foot caught against the leg of the chair she had been sitting on.
The chair scraped loudly across the floor then tipped.
Gasps rose around her.
The sudden noise cut through the music and conversation, drawing attention from nearby guests. Reina stumbled forward, barely catching herself. Her heart pounded harder.
Too loud.
Too fast.
Too much.
She could feel it— everyone looking.
Everyone staring.
Her breathing broke. She didn't stay.
She turned and ran.
Cold air hit her lungs as she stumbled into the garden. The night felt sharp against her skin. She moved without direction, without thought, until she found a bench and collapsed onto it.
Her head dropped forward. Her hands pressed over her ears.
"Don't look… don't look… don't look…"
Her breathing shook.
Inside, Hiro's mother caught his attention with a subtle tilt of her head. Something was wrong. Hiro excused himself and stepped away from the conversation, moving toward the garden doors.
The moment he stepped outside, the noise of the hall faded. And then he saw her. Reina sat curled on the bench, her shoulders trembling as though she were trying to disappear.
He stopped.
For a brief moment, he simply looked at her. Then he walked forward.
"Reina."
She flinched.
"What happened?" he asked.
His tone was controlled, but there was a sharp edge beneath it.
"There are important guests tonight," he added. "Running out like that created a scene."
Her head lowered immediately.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"You shouldn't have..."
"I'm sorry!"
Her voice broke. She bowed deeply.
"I'm sorry for ruining your party," she said, trembling. "Please don't punish me. I won't do it again."
Hiro froze.
She looked up slightly.
"Please don't punish me," she whispered. "I tried my best to… belong."
Something tightened in his chest. Without thinking, he reached down and pulled her to her feet.
"No one is going to hurt you," he said. "You did nothing wrong."
She swayed. Then leaned forward and fell asleep with her forehead against his chest. Hiro stiffened.
"…Reina?"
No response. He realized. She had been drinking.He sighed quietly. He held onto her shoulders, seating her first on the bench before sitting beside her, letting her rest against his shoulder.
The garden was still. Lantern light flickered softly. And for the first time
he looked at her.
Really looked.
Her face was relaxed now, free of fear.
Soft.
Unguarded.
And— beautiful.
He did not look away