"They say she's not human."
The whisper isn't quiet enough.
Suki keeps her eyes on the test paper in front of her as the teacher's polished shoes stop beside her desk.
"Perfect score. Again," Mr. Takahashi announces, holding up her paper as if it were a trophy.
A few students clap politely. Others don't bother hiding their irritation.
From the back of the classroom, someone mutters, "Of course she did."
Suki accepts the paper without a word.
Red ink. 100/100.
Her reflection stares back at her from the classroom window — straight black hair, sharp eyes, expression unreadable. The top student of Grade 11, Class 3. Prestigious Tokyo Seiryo Academy's pride.
Or its ghost.
"Try smiling once in a while," the girl sitting in front of her whispers with a forced laugh. "You might scare people less."
Suki doesn't respond.
There's no point.
She flips open her notebook and begins reviewing formulas for next week's university prep exam while the rest of the class buzzes around her.
At lunch, the cafeteria is loud with over a thousand students filling long tables. Laughter, gossip, the clatter of trays.
Suki sits alone by the window, unpacking the simple bento her grandmother made.
Tamago. Rice. Pickled vegetables.
Across the room, a group of girls shriek over something on a phone screen.
She doesn't look.
She tells herself she doesn't care.
A shadow falls over her table.
"Hey, Suki."
She looks up slowly.
It's Haruto from her class. Friendly. Average grades. Always smiling.
"You're really amazing, you know that?" he says, scratching the back of his neck. "I was wondering if maybe you could help me study sometime?"
She considers him for exactly three seconds.
"I'm busy."
"Oh. Right. Of course."
His smile tightens.
"If you change your mind—"
"I won't."
There's no malice in her tone. Just finality.
He nods awkwardly and leaves.
Suki returns to her lunch.
Outside the window, cherry blossoms drift across the school courtyard. Couples walk beneath them, pink petals catching in their hair.
Her fingers pause mid-air for just a moment.
Then she resumes eating.
Emotions complicate things.
And complicated things break.
She learned that years ago.
By the time Suki reaches home, the sky has dimmed into evening gray.
Their apartment building stands in a quiet, older district of Tokyo — peeling paint, narrow balconies, thin walls.
She slides open the door.
"I'm home."
Silence answers her.
That's unusual.
She removes her shoes and steps into the living area.
Two strangers sit at the low wooden table.
Her grandmother kneels opposite them, her posture rigid.
The expensive porcelain tea set is out.
The one reserved for "important guests."
Suki's gaze sharpens immediately.
The man wears a tailored charcoal suit, cufflinks glinting beneath warm lighting. His wife's silk blouse probably costs more than three months of their rent.
They look out of place in this apartment.
They look powerful.
The woman's eyes move over Suki slowly, evaluating.
So does the man's.
Not friendly.
Appraising.
"Ah," the man says smoothly. "So this is Suki."
Her grandmother forces a smile. "Yes. She just returned from school."
Suki bows politely. "Good evening."
The man inclines his head slightly. "You've grown well."
Grown?
They speak as if they already know her.
The woman sets her teacup down with careful precision.
"You resemble your mother."
The words land like a stone.
Suki doesn't react.
She doesn't let herself.
The air feels too tight.
After a few more formalities, the couple stands.
"We look forward to seeing you again soon," the man says.
His tone makes it sound inevitable.
As they leave, Suki steps toward the balcony window.
Below, a sleek black luxury sedan waits at the curb.
A uniformed chauffeur opens the rear door.
The car disappears down the narrow street like it doesn't belong to this world.
Like they don't belong to hers.
Silence settles over the apartment.
Suki turns slowly.
"Who were they?"
Her grandmother doesn't answer immediately.
Instead, she begins collecting the teacups with trembling hands.
"Suki…"
Her voice sounds older tonight.
More fragile.
"Please sit."
Suki remains standing.
"Who were they?"
A pause.
Then—
"They are the Kanzaki family."
The name means nothing to Suki.
"They own Kanzaki Holdings. One of the largest corporations in Tokyo."
Suki's brows draw together slightly.
"And?"
Her grandmother's fingers tighten around the porcelain.
"Since your parents passed… I have struggled."
Suki's chest stiffens.
Not this.
"Medical bills. The car accident. The apartment. Tuition at Seiryo Academy…" Her grandmother's voice cracks softly. "I borrowed money."
"How much?"
Silence.
"How much?" Suki repeats, sharper now.
"…A great deal."
A cold understanding creeps up her spine.
"To whom?"
Her grandmother lifts her eyes.
"To Mr. Kanzaki."
The air leaves Suki's lungs slowly.
"And what," she asks carefully, "does he want?"
Her grandmother's eyes fill with something that looks dangerously like guilt.
"He has a son."
The words feel wrong before she even processes them.
"They wish to arrange a marriage."
Silence.
The clock on the wall ticks once.
Twice.
"You're joking."
"I am not."
Suki lets out a short, disbelieving laugh.
"You agreed?" Her voice drops.
Her grandmother shakes her head desperately. "I did not agree. I only listened—"
"You listened?" Suki's voice rises despite herself. "To selling me?"
"I would never sell you!"
"That's exactly what this is!"
Tears spill down her grandmother's face.
"I had no other way. If I refuse, they can demand immediate repayment. We would lose everything."
"Then we lose it!" Suki snaps. "I'll work. I'll quit school. I'll—"
"You will do no such thing!"
The words echo against the thin apartment walls.
Suki's hands tremble.
Her entire life — built on discipline, control, perfection — reduced to a transaction.
"I am not some business deal," she says quietly.
Her grandmother lowers her head.
"I know."
The silence stretches between them, heavy and suffocating.
After a moment, Suki turns toward her room.
"There's more," her grandmother whispers.
Suki stops.
"He already attends Seiryo Academy."
Her pulse stutters.
"What?"
"He is in your year."
A cold ripple runs through her.
"In fact…" her grandmother swallows, "he specifically requested you."
Requested.
As if she were a product on display.
Suki's nails dig into her palms.
"What's his name?"
The answer comes softly.
"Kanzaki Ren."
The name settles in her mind like a storm cloud.
Somewhere in Tokyo, in a mansion she's never seen, a boy she's never met has already decided her future.
Suki closes her eyes briefly.
Fine.
If they think she'll obediently accept this—
They don't know her at all.
Tomorrow, she will find Kanzaki Ren.
And she will end this.
Before it even begins.