Wake up, switch off the alarm, dress for work—boring.
Lunch—boring.
Early to bed—boring.
What are they talking about?
Boring, boring, boring.
A boring World.
'So, Miss Minagawa, do you have a favorite musical?'
The woman with pale-pink hair came back to her senses; across the table the man sat with fingers steepled beneath his chin, thin brows framing eyes full of affection.
Minagawa Akane set down her fork. 'I rather like La traviata.'
'Miss Marguerite?' No matter the answer, the man's enthusiasm never dimmed. 'A twisting, poignant romance.'
A spark danced in Minagawa Akane's clear eyes. 'I just find the courtesan angle interesting.'
'Hmm?' The man blinked.
'Kidding.' Minagawa Akane narrowed her eyes and confessed, 'It's one of the few musicals I've actually seen. You won't laugh at me, Mr. Miyamoto?'
The man called Miyamoto gave an indulgent smile; his navy suit was immaculate, the hands of his watch ticking with precision. Every gesture proclaimed success.
'Of course not. The book is honored that you've read it.'
'Oh dear, now you're making me shy!' Minagawa Akane gave a silly laugh and touched her hair, turning her face away as though she couldn't meet those burning eyes.
In this hunt, a confident, robust man locked what he believed to be his prey in a hunter's gaze.
'Miss Minagawa, I'm serious!'
Miyamoto's eyes blazed as he pulled a ring box from his pocket and opened it; the silver setting and ruby blazed.
'Please go out with me!'
Minagawa Akane nearly steamed; her cheeks turned visibly red.
'Wh-what am I supposed to say when you spring this on me…' She stared at the ruby, unsure whether to push it away or not.
'A girl as pure and kind as you, who can share her heart with me—there's no way I can let you slip by!' Miyamoto slid the box closer. 'Please, be mine!'
'But we've only known each other six months…' Minagawa Akane twirled a strand of hair and muttered.
'Yet after just six months, I can't live without you!' Miyamoto lifted the box. 'Give me a chance to take care of you!'
The girl hesitated, her slender fingers restlessly brushing the table, betraying her inner turmoil.
Miyamoto read her silence and swiftly caught her hand.
'Akane, give me a chance.'
A sincere man and a beautiful woman—their dialogue and courtship drew the attention of everyone in the restaurant, who watched with smiling blessings.
"O-okay… let go!" Minagawa Akane lowered her head, unable to look at him. "And we're only dating… why buy a ring? Such a waste."
"Hahaha! Already managing my money?" The man was elated; he loosened his collar to free his neck, glanced around, nodded to the onlookers, then slipped the ring onto the girl's finger.
She was clearly delighted, with a shy little-woman charm.
"Not bad… barely acceptable." Akane flexed her fingers; her gaze flicked to the sparkling gem, then snapped away as though afraid he'd notice.
"I'm not— I mean, I only agreed to try because of your sincerity!"
The man laughed softly, nodded with doting affection, and began painting a beautiful future for the woman opposite—now his girlfriend.
Miyamoto had met Minagawa Akane by chance at a concert.
One look and he was doomed to fall for this sometimes timid, sometimes endearingly dazed woman.
He was in his prime, with a stable job and a salary more than enough for two. After a few years, once he climbed another rung, they could even think about children.
The man's thoughts wandered.
Noticing his distraction, Akane pouted. "Hey! You just got me and already you're thinking of another woman?"
Since agreeing to be his girlfriend she had grown even more adorably coy.
"Haha! I was imagining our future, Akane…"
"Future?" Akane blinked, utterly puzzled.
What strange nonsense.
We have no future.
Soft music played as the man hurried out.
A phone call had summoned him back to the office.
Minagawa Akane wiped her fingers unhurriedly.
Then she pulled off the ring and flicked it onto the table—
Plop.
The gem sank into the bubbling soup.
Chin in hand, she gazed through the glass: the evening street was bright, tiny droplets sliding down the pane.
"How will I explain simply throwing it away?"
Suddenly a man's voice spoke behind her.
Akane pressed her lips and turned.
The man was about thirty, as sharply suited as Mr. Miyamoto, with short hair and a silver stud in his left ear—an odd stud shaped like a half-face mask.
"Explain?" Akane studied him gently. "If it's lost, he'll just buy another."
"Isn't that so? The conquered must offer their life to the conqueror."
She turned her back to him, her face twisting into something strange. "I didn't take his life—only his adoration and love.
Chairs scraped.
The man rose, walked to her table, pulled out the opposite chair.
"Interesting. Do you enjoy being adored, or the thrill of control?"
Akane's lovely eyes slid sideways. "Starting with philosophy? A bit old-fashioned, sir."
She checked her phone. "Hurry, I have a date tonight. Or would you rather skip straight to undressing?"
He was unfazed; such teasing couldn't touch him. And indeed, he was far handsomer than Mr. Miyamoto.
He leaned in, closing the distance.
In his eyes, the black pupils shimmered with a white mist.
"If you like that feeling, why not choose something more interesting?"
His voice turned hazy; the restaurant quieted, time beyond the glass seeming to freeze.
White mist poured from his pupils, pooling on the floor, rising into the air.
In those pupils Akane saw her true self.
Desire. Power.
Trampling. Toying.
Seizing. Dominating. Controlling.
A thunderous roar echoed through the mist, and the creature spoke: Thus, you are right.
"Interesting… so this is the truth of the World?"
Everything carried on as usual.
Outside, the lights still blazed; inside, couples chatted intimately.
Waiters huddled, sneaking a break while planning where to go after work.
Stars dotted the sky; after the Sun set, the Moon quietly watched the earth.
All seemed as it had always been.
"Yes, this is the truth," the man said. "My name is Hannya."
He tapped his ear-stud.
The woman's soft tongue brushed her lips. "Minagawa Akane."
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