The ceiling spun slowly, as if he were trapped on a carousel that never stopped. Even though it was early—too early… Jun couldn't fall back asleep.
His head throbbed, his whole body hurt, but it wasn't physical pain. It was worse. That invisible kind—the one that doesn't make a sound but destroys everything from the inside.
He ran a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh, as if trying to force it out of himself.
He slipped on one slipper, then the other. Sat on the edge of the bed, head down, elbows resting on his knees. He took a deep breath.
"How could I lose control like that…" he murmured, his voice hoarse.
He closed his eyes for a moment, irritated with himself.
"Feelings like this don't belong in my life… enough!"
He suddenly stood up, as if needing to get rid of that sensation as quickly as possible.
He went straight to the bathroom. Ice-cold water hit his skin, making him shiver instantly, but he didn't move.
He stayed there, motionless, letting the cold cut away anything that still lingered.
When he came out, his grandmother was still asleep, and outside, the sun hadn't risen yet.
Not knowing what to do with his body… or his mind… Jun went to the kitchen and made himself a strong coffee. Soon, the smell filled the house.
"So cold…" he whispered, rubbing his hands together. "I think it's going to rain today."
"Good morning, dear… you're up early. Is everything okay?"
His grandmother's voice made him turn. She stood there, still sleepy, but with her usual warmth.
"Good morning, grandma…" he replied more calmly. "I couldn't sleep, so I made coffee… it's fresh."
She smiled, slowly walking closer.
"How wonderful…" she said, pouring herself a cup. "Are you going out today?"
Jun shrugged, leaning against the counter.
"I don't know yet… I have to think."
He pulled out a chair and sat down.
"But come on… let's have coffee together."
"Grandma… did you ever like someone? I mean… love someone?"
"I've had many loves in my life," she replied, taking a sip of coffee.
"And did you ever try to forget someone?"
"Forget? In what sense?"
"Someone you love, but should forget."
She understood immediately, and answered gently:
"Why would anyone want to forget someone they love?"
He lowered his head.
"I thought I knew the answer to that question…"
His grandmother took his hand.
"You never forget who you truly love…"
Silence followed—calm, almost comforting. For a few minutes, the world felt bearable.
Outside, the morning was forming. Jun kept his eyes down, lost in thought and in his grandmother's words.
He wanted to believe he could pull himself together. Losing control was the one thing he never allowed himself. He hated vulnerability. Always had.
Since his mother left, he had closed himself off to love. Living with his father, he grew used to a life without warmth. His home was filled with constant criticism, daily demands, cruel words that, over time, stopped hurting on the surface and instead began destroying him from within.
His father knew exactly where to strike. He took advantage of a boy's pain and turned it into guilt.
He made Jun believe his mother didn't want him—that she left because of him. And for a long time, he believed it.
That was when, still a child, Jun made a silent promise: he would never love anyone the way he loved his mother, because love made people weak.
And maybe that was exactly why what he felt for Sayuri was so unacceptable to him.
Outside, the first drops of rain fell heavily, sliding down the garden leaves.
He went upstairs to organize a few things while his grandmother started baking the day's cookies.
She opened a window, and the smell of wet asphalt filled the house, mixing with the sweet aroma of Mrs. Midori's cookies.
"Jun? Jun? Could you come downstairs for a minute?" his grandmother called from the bottom of the stairs.
"Yes, grandma… I'm coming."
"What do you need, grandma?"
She turned, holding a small carefully wrapped box.
"Could you take these vanilla cookies to our neighbor again?"
Jun looked away.
"Grandma… I'm a bit busy right now…"
Mrs. Midori smiled gently.
"Oh dear… I'm sorry. Don't worry, I'll go. You get back to your tasks."
Jun looked out the window. The rain was heavy and relentless, the wind shaking the trees.
He sighed.
He wasn't going to let her go out in that weather.
"Grandma… I'll take it."
She tried to stop him.
"It's fine, it'll be quick. Just keep an eye on the oven for me."
But Jun was already grabbing the box.
"I'll be right back, grandma."
Without giving room for discussion, he left.
His grandmother watched him go.
"Oh… that boy…"
Knock. Knock. Knock.
No answer.
Jun knocked again, louder this time.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Silence. The house seemed empty.
Without thinking much, he left the cookies on a chair by the porch, beside other deliveries.
But as he was about to step down the stairs, a delivery man appeared, holding a bouquet of flowers.
"Good afternoon… does Miss Sayuri live here?"
Jun looked at him.
"Good afternoon… yes. Can I help you? Are those flowers for her?"
"Yes, they are. Do you live here?"
Jun lied.
"Yes. You can leave them with me."
He quickly signed a random name and took the bouquet. He waited until the man left, then looked at the card.
"Flowers for the most beautiful and intelligent girl in the city."
His expression darkened instantly.
"Kenji…? So he's really taking this seriously."
On impulse, his fingers tightened around the card, almost crushing it—but he stopped.
He took a deep breath and carefully placed it back, leaving the bouquet near the door.
Back home, he tried to act normal, but his mind didn't obey. A part of him wanted to run back and take those flowers away before she saw them. The other part—cold and rational—whispered:
"Let it go. You have no right."
Jun ran a hand through his hair, restless.
Leaning by the window, he saw Sayuri arriving home with her mother. When she saw the bouquet, she stopped, read the card, and smiled.
That smile—so beautiful—was worse than torture.
And then, a few minutes later, Kenji arrived. Natural. Comfortable. Walking into her house like he already belonged there.
Jun clenched his fist and closed the curtains.
"I loved the flowers, thank you so much, Kenji…"
"I'm glad you liked them…" Kenji replied with a smile. "Yume told me you ranked first in your class. I couldn't let that go unnoticed."
"You're so thoughtful…"
Then her mother's voice came:
"Would you like to have dinner with us?"
Kenji answered politely:
"Actually… I'd like to take Sayuri out for a special dinner tonight… if that's okay."
"Of course it is," her mother replied happily. "I'd love for her to go out with someone like you."
"Mom…"
"What are you still doing here? Go get ready, girl!"
Kenji laughed.
"Thank you, ma'am. I promise I'll bring her back early and safely."
Later, in a refined, softly lit Italian restaurant, Sayuri smiled while Kenji watched her.
And that's when something changed.
For the first time, he realized he wasn't playing anymore.
What had started as a game became real.
Her smile. Her laughter. The way she spoke. Even the light in her eyes fascinated him.
Everything in him reacted. His body leaned toward hers naturally. His hands wanted to touch her. His eyes couldn't look away anymore.
And the urge to kiss her became harder and harder to resist.
He knew it now.
He had played with fire…
And in the end, he had been consumed by it.
There was no turning back.
The player had lost the game.