It was 1:00 PM when Emi stepped out of her room, her face a mask of cold arrogance. "My driver, Haruki," she said, her voice laced with a sharp attitude. "It's time. We're going to my grandfather's village."
Haruki looked at her with a calm, steady gaze. "Miss Emi, I've made that trip before. It's a long drive. We wouldn't arrive until 4:00 PM, and Sir Kenzo said everyone would be returning by evening. Going now would be a wasted effort."
Emi paused, touching her chin thoughtfully. "You're right. And tomorrow is the School Festival. As Vice President, I can't afford to miss it. Fine, we aren't going."
Seeing the flicker of disappointment in her eyes, Haruki offered a small smile. "Is there somewhere closer you'd like to go? I'll take you wherever you wish."
"I don't visit 'low-status' places, Haruki," she snapped, turning her back on him. "I'm going back to my room."
But as she walked away, her heart began to race. Stop me, Haruki... she pleaded silently. Tell me to stay. I'll go anywhere with you. She reached the door, but Haruki remained silent.
Just as she reached for the handle, his voice finally broke the silence. "Very well, Miss Emi. The estate is under high security. I'll take my leave now. Take care of yourself."
The words hit Emi like a physical blow. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her face flushed a deep, painful red.
"Don't leave me!" she cried out.
The pain in her voice was raw and unmistakable. Haruki stopped in his tracks and turned. Emi was staring at him, her eyes shimmering with a mix of desperation and tears. Before he could utter a word, she bolted across the hallway and crashed into his chest, clinging to him as if he were her only anchor in a storm.
Haruki froze for a moment, then a gentle, sad smile touched his lips. "Miss Emi... what is this? Are you okay?"
"Shut up, you idiot!" she muffled into his chest, her 'Cute Attitude' returning even through her vulnerability. "You'll never understand the heart of a girl."
"Perhaps not," Haruki whispered. "But hugging me like this... it's not right."
"Stop talking! I was just... I was just scared, okay?"
They stood in silence for thirty seconds, the world outside forgotten. Then, Emi looked up, her eyes narrowing with a familiar spark of temper. "Idiot! Do that thing... the thing you did this morning before I fell asleep. Stroke my hair."
Haruki looked bewildered. "But... you were crying then."
Emi tightened her grip around his waist. "Just do what I told you!"
For the first time in his life, Haruki felt a genuine shiver of fear—the kind only a complicated woman can instill. He slowly raised his hand and began to stroke her silken hair.
"Uff... that feels so good," Emi whispered, leaning into his touch.
I don't know how much longer I can handle this pressure, Haruki thought, glancing at the ceiling in silent prayer.
After a few minutes, Emi pulled back, her 'Tsunami of Attitude' returning in full force. "Whatever I want, happens. Now come with me to the lounge. We need to discuss something."
Haruki stood there, looking like a ghost who had just seen a more terrifying ghost—his arms hanging limp, his face pale.
"Stop acting like an anime character and follow me!" Emi barked from down the hall.
In the lounge, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Emi sat with her legs crossed, one foot swinging rhythmically, while Haruki sat on the opposite sofa, his gaze fixed solemnly on the floor.
"So," Emi began, breaking the silence. "Your condition is that you won't leave your small house. But look at me, Haruki. I've been raised in palaces. How can a girl like me live in a tiny house like yours after marriage? Do you understand what I'm saying?"
Haruki looked her in the eye. "I understand perfectly. And honestly, I thought we had a chance. But given your conditions, this marriage seems impossible."
Emi's anger flared, but she suppressed it with a forced smile. "Why are you so stubborn? My condition benefits you! You'd live in a massive, beautiful mansion. You'd have everything! Just agree to marry me and move into the house I've designed for us."
Haruki took a long, steady breath. "I want to build my own life, Miss Emi. I respect Mr. Kenzo deeply, but I am not so pathetic that I would marry his granddaughter just to live off his wealth in a house I didn't earn. A wife is a husband's responsibility. I may offer a small house, but I would offer a home filled with every happiness in the world. I will protect my wife until my last breath. But I will not be a 'kept' man. If you want a rich boy who can give you a palace, there are many. But if you want me, you must accept my life."
Emi bit her lip so hard it nearly bled. He's a fool... but he's so incredibly cool. He's backed me into a corner where I can't even think straight.
She took a shaky breath and stood up. "Fine then. Consider this marriage over. I will never do what you're asking."
Haruki's expression didn't change. He simply watched her as she stormed off toward her room. The sound of her door slamming echoed through the mansion like a gunshot.
Haruki stood up and walked slowly toward her door. From inside, he heard the soul-crushing sound of Emi sobbing—and the sound of things being smashed against the walls.
His heart ached. He reached for the handle but pulled back. Forgive me, Miss Emi, he thought bitterly. But this is a bitter pill we both have to swallow. I hope you find someone richer who can make you happy.
He turned to leave, but he only made it three steps before her voice shattered his resolve.
"HARUKI! I'LL DIE WITHOUT YOU! I LOVE YOU, HARUKI! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"
Haruki stopped. A sad smile crossed his face. You really can't control your emotions when you cry, can you?
He couldn't leave her like that. He rushed back and threw the door open. "Miss Emi! Are you alright?"
In the next second, Haruki's world spun into darkness. A heavy vase flew through the air, striking him squarely in the forehead.
"Haruki! I'm sorry! Are you okay?!"
That was the last thing he heard before the world went black.
Three hours later. 4:50 PM.
Haruki's eyes fluttered open. A sharp, throbbing pain radiated from his head, and he felt a strange weight on his chest. He caught the scent of floral shampoo—Emi's scent.
He groaned and lifted his head slightly. Emi was fast asleep on his chest, her hair sprawled over his shirt, her face peaceful and stained with dried tears.
He touched his forehead where he had been struck. Someone had already treated the wound. A pristine white bandage was wrapped around his head, but Emi had added her own touch. In black marker, she had written:
"You are the one I've been waiting for... I don't know for how long."
Haruki didn't know what was written there, but he smiled. He reached out with one hand and gently stroked her hair.
"I may just be your driver, Miss Emi," he whispered to the sleeping girl. "But whenever you ask, I will always be here to stroke your hair."