Hearing this, Shiratori Seiya took a sip of his tea, then looked up at Hojo Shione.
Although a gentle smile still graced her face—that same serene, composed expression she always wore—and her eyes were filled with calm, showing no signs of anything amiss, yet it was precisely this abnormal stillness that was most unsettling.
When a storm is coming, the sea becomes eerily calm.
Seeing that he remained silent, Hojo Shione seemed to realize something. A look of understanding flickered in her eyes, and she quickly waved her hand, saying:
"Ah, Seiya, don't misunderstand. I'm not questioning you or anything, I..."
The girl's cherry-pink lips parted twice, as if searching for the right words. Then she sighed, lowered her gaze, and let out a self-deprecating laugh.
"But it's normal that you don't believe me. After all, even if I wanted to help you now, I wouldn't have the right. I'm not your girlfriend or your fiancée. And I did that kind of thing before..."
Looking at her almost broken appearance—like a porcelain doll with a hairline crack running through it—Shiratori Seiya felt a tightness in his chest, a dull ache that spread through his ribs. He stood up, moved to sit beside her, and gently took her hand in his.
"Shione."
Seeing him suddenly sit beside her, Hojo Shione was momentarily stunned—like a character who just got hit with an unexpected dialogue choice. Then, catching a whiff of his familiar scent, her breathing unconsciously quickened. Realizing what was happening, she clasped his hand in hers, holding it as if it were her only anchor to reality, and whispered:
"What's wrong..."
Feeling her hand grip his tightly—too tightly, like she was afraid he'd disappear—Shiratori Seiya said earnestly:
"I don't know what you're thinking right now, but I want to tell you something. It was my fault, not yours. You don't need to humble yourself like this. You don't need to tear yourself apart for me."
Hojo Shione paused, then blinked—a slow, deliberate flutter of her lashes—and asked:
"Humble myself?"
As soon as she spoke, she suddenly started to laugh. Not a mocking laugh, not a bitter laugh, but something in between—like she genuinely found the idea absurd. The curve of her lips was wider than usual, almost too bright. She leaned her forehead toward Shiratori Seiya, her moist, glistening eyes fixed on him as she asked:
"What does it mean to humble myself? Is liking Seiya humbling myself?"
"If this is humbling myself, then Hasegawa is also humbling herself. Suzune is also humbling herself. Takahashi is also humbling herself. Has Seiya said these words to them? Have you told them they're humbling themselves just by loving you?"
She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper:
"Or is it that Seiya... you don't like the current me at all?"
She leaned her forehead even closer, pressing it gently against Shiratori Seiya's. Her red lips were barely two fingers away from his, close enough that Shiratori could smell the sweet fragrance of her lip gloss—like strawberries and something floral. His pulse quickened despite himself.
Immediately after, a look of genuine confusion appeared in Hojo Shione's eyes, like a child who had lost their way.
"Seiya, what kind of me do you really like?"
"Do you like my body? Or do you like that I can sing? Or do you like how I look on stage? Or... what exactly about me do you like? Shione is getting more and more confused..."
As she spoke, her voice gradually began to tremble, the cracks showing through her carefully constructed composure:
"Do you... really like me?"
Touching the fear in the girl's eyes—raw, naked, vulnerable—Shiratori Seiya felt a pang in his heart, sharp and aching. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. He rested his chin on her slender shoulder, inhaling the faint, comforting scent of her hair—jasmine and something uniquely her—and said earnestly:
"I like you."
"Actually, I've always liked you. But what I like most is the original Shione. I like your confidence, your beauty, your gentleness. I like the way you exude charm on stage, like you were born to be there..."
"Is that so?"
Hojo Shione rubbed her fair chin against his shoulder, her arms wrapping around him, holding him tighter and tighter as if she wanted to meld him into her very bones. She murmured to herself, her voice muffled against his shirt:
"But even the Shione of the past... didn't Seiya still break up with me? If we went back to the past, Seiya would still break up with me, right?"
"I..."
"Is Seiya trying to say he wouldn't break up with Shione this time? In that case, wouldn't all the things I did—all the scheming, all the manipulation—be completely in vain? Then I would be too pathetic, wouldn't I..."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
"Actually, I know I've never been special. Without me, Seiya can still shine—you have your talent, your future, your whole life ahead of you. But without Seiya... I wouldn't have achieved anything I have today. I'd be nothing more than a girl with a pretty voice and no direction."
"Seiya, you just said you liked the past me the most. But... you still like me now, right? You're not just saying that to comfort me?"
Shiratori Seiya couldn't refute her. Life cannot be relived, and even if he looked back and replayed every choice, unless the first person he met was someone else—unless everything changed from the very beginning—the outcome would likely be the same. His only mistake, his only regret, was letting Shione fall completely, utterly, irreversibly in love with him.
Feeling the almost withered rose in the girl's heart—fragile, beautiful, desperate to bloom one more time—Shiratori Seiya patted her back softly, closed his eyes, and sighed:
"I like you..."
Hearing this, Hojo Shione smiled—a sweet, relieved smile that lit up her entire face, tears still clinging to her lashes like dew on petals:
"That's enough. Shione only needs Seiya to like her. As for whether it's the past me or the present me... it no longer matters. If Shione hadn't done such a shameless thing, she probably wouldn't have been able to keep Seiya at all, right?"
As she spoke, Hojo Shione released her arms and straightened up, putting a small distance between them. Her eyes were now brimming with unshed tears, making the whites of her eyes glisten like polished pearls. Her lips, flushed with fresh blood, became even more vibrant against her pale skin. Her voice was choked with emotion as she said:
"I'm sorry, Seiya. I used such a despicable method to tie you down. I'm sorry for taking advantage of your soft heart and your lingering affection for me..."
"I'm sorry, but besides that shameless, underhanded way, I couldn't think of any other method to keep you by my side."
"That's enough."
Shiratori Seiya reached out and gently wiped away her tears with his thumb, the gesture tender, almost instinctual:
"I said it's my fault. You don't need to apologize."
"Seiya's fault?"
Hojo Shione echoed, then shook her head—a small, dismissive motion—and smiled brightly through her tears:
"Is Seiya trying to say it was his fault for making me fall in love with him? How could that ever be wrong? Meeting Seiya, falling in love with Seiya... is the happiest thing that has ever happened in my life."
"So, Seiya, you don't need to be sad for me. You don't need to pity me. As long as I can occupy a place in Seiya's heart—even a small, hidden corner—Shione is already very happy. Seiya should be happy for Shione."
As she spoke, she raised her hand and affectionately pinched Shiratori Seiya's cheek—a playful, intimate gesture—before pulling back:
"Alright. Now Seiya can tell me how he solved the Takahashi family matter, right?"
Hearing this, Shiratori Seiya stared at her face—searching for any trace of hidden hurt, any buried pain—then thought for a moment and decided to be completely honest:
"Actually, it wasn't me. Takahashi solved it herself."
"She solved it herself?"
Shiratori Seiya nodded, his expression serious:
"Yes. She used a forged certificate—a fake marriage registration form."
Seeing the stunned expression on Shione's face—those wide, searching eyes—Shiratori Seiya then roughly recounted what had happened yesterday, from Mio's sudden return to Nagoya to the dramatic confrontation with her parents.
About ten minutes later, Hojo Shione lowered her gaze. Her fingers traced the rim of the teacup in slow, hypnotic circles, a strange, unreadable light flowing in her eyes like a hidden current beneath still water. Finally, she sighed softly:
"It seems Miss Takahashi is also very bold. I'm not as good as her... I only cause trouble for Seiya."
"Don't say things like 'not as good.'"
Shiratori Seiya saw that she still looked self-deprecating—that fragile, wilted posture that made his chest ache—and he felt a little helpless. He frowned and pressed:
"That day I asked you what method we should use, and you said you wanted to elope with me. How can you forget that now? Were you lying that day?"
"Of course not!"
Hearing his doubt, Hojo Shione's voice immediately rose by two octaves, her eyes flashing with fierce sincerity:
"If I could be with Seiya—truly, completely, forever—eloping is nothing. I'd run to the ends of the earth with you without a second thought."
Hearing this, Shiratori Seiya couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief—a long, slow exhale—then said with a serious, unwavering expression:
"Then that's that. I've never doubted your affection for me, Shione. Not for a single moment. So don't say those kinds of things anymore—I don't want to hear you put yourself down like that."
Seeing that he seemed genuinely upset—that rare flash of anger in his eyes—Hojo Shione quickly gripped his hand, her fingers intertwining with his:
"Then I won't say it anymore... Actually, I just wanted Seiya to care for me more. If you don't want to hear it, I'll stop."
As she spoke, she bit her lip—a small, vulnerable gesture—and a look of loneliness flickered across her face like a passing shadow:
"I'm not insecure, I just feel that Seiya... you are getting further and further away from me. Hasegawa has an engagement with you—a promise of three years. Takahashi is your current official girlfriend, the one everyone sees you with. But I... I am nothing. I'm not your girlfriend, not your fiancée, just... the ex who can't let go."
Her voice dropped to a whisper:
"I'm just... too scared. Too scared of losing you completely."
Touching the raw fear in her eyes—the kind that strips away all pretense—Shiratori Seiya opened his mouth. After a moment of thought, he raised a single finger, as if making a sacred vow:
"Shione, I don't know if you're still willing to believe me, but I can swear to you right now—I will never—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Hojo Shione raised her own index finger to his lips, silencing him with a gentle touch. She shook her head at him, her eyes soft but firm:
"I believe you. No need to swear. Swearing would just make it seem like I don't love you as much, or don't trust you as much."
A warm smile spread across her face.
"Alright, we've finished talking about Takahashi's matter. Thank you, Seiya—I can finally rest assured. However, I hope you can go see Hasegawa Saori today."
Hearing her suddenly suggest that he go see Saori—of all people—Shiratori Seiya was stunned. Was this something he would ever hear from Shione? His mind reeled, trying to process the unexpected turn.
Seeing his silence, Hojo Shione, her eyes still bloodshot from earlier tears, looked at him deeply and explained:
"When she came to see you yesterday, her emotions were clearly not right. She even questioned if I had hidden you away somewhere, and..."
As she spoke, Hojo Shione slightly pulled down the collar of her white knitted sweater, revealing a faint red mark on her fair neck—like a dark flower blooming on porcelain:
"Being stood up by Seiya, her emotions were clearly very volatile. It's just that yesterday I was worried about you, so I didn't tell you. But you need to see her, Seiya. She's not stable right now."
Shiratori Seiya's gaze swept over Shione's neck—that angry red welt—and his pupils involuntarily constricted. He was somewhat shocked that Saori would do such a thing. He couldn't help but recall the sword she had thrust at Mio back in the Kendo Club president's office—that cold, unwavering blade. A chill ran down his spine.
He looked at Shione, his voice urgent:
"Have you been to the hospital? Did you put on any anti-swelling medicine? That looks like it could bruise badly."
"Don't worry about me. I'm fine—just a scratch, really. But you really need to go see Hasegawa now, otherwise, something might go wrong."
Hojo Shione said, reaching out to pull Shiratori Seiya's arm—gently but insistently—leading him from the sofa towards the entrance:
"Seiya, you don't need to worry about our agreement either. Actually, what I wanted to say to you over dinner—I've already told Seiya tonight. It was just that I couldn't get over that matter in my heart, and I couldn't muster the courage, so I thought I'd save it for dinner. But the atmosphere was just right just now, so I blurted it all out..."
"Then you... then I'll be back tonight."
Hearing this, Hojo Shione narrowed her eyes and smiled—a soft, knowing smile that held no bitterness. Standing at the doorway, she reached out and straightened Shiratori Seiya's collar with practiced tenderness, her fingers lingering for just a moment:
"It's alright even if you don't come back. I'll look after the house for you. Go quickly."
"I'll be back. I promise."
"Mm. I believe you."
Hojo Shione didn't return to the house until she had watched Shiratori Seiya disappear into the elevator—that last glimpse of his silhouette before the doors slid shut.
She stood by the window overlooking the street below, watching Shiratori Seiya's car pull out of the parking lot and drive away into the fading afternoon light. A complex, unreadable look flickered in her tear-filled eyes—a storm of emotions too tangled to name, too deep to voice.