Chapter 47
The second floor of the massive Tokyo mall was abuzz with chatter, laughter, and the gentle clatter of trays being passed over food counters. Shoppers moved in currents across the brightly lit corridors, drawn by the aroma of warm pastries, fried delights, and chilled desserts. The "Sweet Treats" food court, nestled in the far corner of the floor, shimmered with pastel colors and decorative neon signs that blinked in soft, inviting rhythms.
Inside "Sweet Treats," a certain table near the window stood frozen in time. Katsuragi Kokoro sat stiffly, a small paper cup of vanilla ice cream untouched before him. Across the table, Watanabe Mika—his girlfriend—sat in regal silence. Her elegant white dress fell around her like snow, perfectly matched with her low-heeled shoes and long white socks. Her signature shoulder-length white hair, held partly back in a bun, framed her delicate face like porcelain. Her ashen gray eyes, however, were anything but soft. They were cold, emotionless, staring directly at Kokoro.
Mika had ordered a slice of cheesecake and a strawberry smoothie, both of which remained untouched as well. She didn’t speak. Neither did Kokoro. The silence between them wasn’t just awkward—it was suffocating. Kokoro’s throat was dry. His fingers fidgeted near the cup, unsure whether to reach for the spoon or just disappear under the table.
Inside, his mind was spiraling.
What do I say? If I tell the truth, that Sakura’s blackmailing me with a photo of me and Mika kissing... she might lose her mind. No—no, worse. She might ruin Sakura’s life. Mika isn’t just any girl. She’s the daughter of one of the wealthiest and most influential families in Japan. If she wants someone erased from the face of the school—hell, from the city—she probably could.
But... even though Sakura’s been threatening me with that photo, she didn’t really seem evil. She was weird, yeah. Brash. But she didn’t feel cruel. She just wanted help. Help for something a little insane, sure... but she’s not a bad person. She just... she needed someone.
He gripped the edge of the table.
Before his mind could spiral any further, Mika’s voice shattered the tension.
"I can’t believe you lied to me."
The softness in her voice only made the words sharper. Her tone wasn’t cold. It was wounded. Trembling. Like frost cracking under sunlight.
Kokoro froze.
"I heard from my subordinate," she continued, eyes never leaving his, "that you were in a maid café today. With a girl. A brown-haired girl. So unless Sayuri senpai dyed her pink hair this morning, I’m assuming that wasn’t a club meeting."