The night rain in Tokyo had just stopped.
Emily sat quietly on the hotel balcony, her fingertips grazing the damp railing. Droplets left from the rain slid down slowly, refracting fragmented light under the dim yellow glow. The air smelled of moisture mixed with lingering electricity—like a nameless premonition, drifting in her chest.
Lucas's last words before leaving still echoed in her mind—"You've underestimated my determination to protect him."
His tone had been as sharp and cold as a blade, leaving no room for negotiation.
She had always believed she could face everything calmly: the fake marriage, the contractual life, the plan to leave Malaysia for the UK. From the beginning, she knew Ryan wasn't her savior—just a convenient partner in her life blueprint.
So why did her heart sting when Lucas questioned her like that?
She closed her eyes and let her thoughts rewind, questioning herself:Was this really just about going abroad? Was it really just to escape the debt-ridden family that treated her like a bargaining chip?
She couldn't be sure anymore.
Behind her, the glass doors connecting the balcony to the room reflected the dim lights. Inside, Ryan sat on the sofa, quiet like a shadow.
They were staying in the same suite, yet it felt as though a river separated them.
The curtains were half drawn, casting slanted shadows on the floor. Ryan stared at the black leather notebook on the coffee table—notes for the wedding plan, already filled with meticulous details and rehearsal schedules.
He didn't open it. Just sat there in silence, as if questioning whether any of it still meant something.
Until Emily slowly pushed the door open and stepped in.
Her voice was soft, almost afraid to disturb the night.
"Do you think... there's any point in continuing this?"
Ryan didn't respond immediately. He looked up at her, calm but with a trace of sadness in his eyes.
After a long pause, he finally said,"We both wanted to change our fates, didn't we?"
Emily stood still, nervously twisting the hem of her dress."If we stop now... is it still possible?"
There was no blame in her tone, only a quiet exhaustion.
Ryan let out a dry chuckle, his voice hoarse."You want to stop because of what Lucas said? Or... because you're regretting this?"
Emily shook her head. Her eyes were conflicted, but firm.
"I just... don't know anymore," she said, barely audible."I don't know if this is really what we want."
For a moment, time stood still.
Ryan didn't say anything else. And Emily didn't wait for a response.
She turned and walked back to her room, leaving only the silence of the suite behind—heavier than ever.
Late at night, as the air grew colder, Ryan quietly put on his coat and left the hotel.
Shibuya's night market was still glowing, vibrant and crowded. Neon lights flickered, stretching into wavy reflections on the wet pavement. He walked alone through the crowd, drifting like a ghost.
Outside a convenience store, a young couple laughed as they shared steaming oden. Ryan stood nearby, watching them. For a moment, he felt completely out of place in this world.
Emily's words echoed again in his ears—"I don't know if this is really what we want."
His phone rang.
Instinctively, he answered. The caller ID displayed: Tan Group – Japan Division, CEO.
"Ryan, we've received the design revision you submitted," the voice said, distant and cold."But headquarters has decided to proceed with the original plan. You're temporarily removed from the upcoming implementation."
A quiet verdict. He had been sidelined.
Ryan paused, then said softly,"Understood."
He hung up. His fingers clutched the notebook he'd brought with him. Its pages curled from dampness—filled with wedding details, time slots, and sticky notes of Emily's favorite scents and flowers.
A raindrop hit his hand.
Then another.
Rain started falling again—like another silent whisper from the city.
He stood by the roadside, letting the rain soak into his hair, his shoulders, and the notebook. Ink began to bleed across the pages, like the lines between their roles and desires—blurring slowly.
He closed the notebook, looked up into the night, and turned back toward the hotel.
When he stepped into the lobby, Emily was already waiting for him.
She held a small paper bag decorated with traditional Japanese patterns. When she saw him, there was hesitation in her eyes, but she still walked forward.
"I… I'm sorry," she said quietly but firmly."I went to the ramen shop where my mom used to work back when she lived in Tokyo."
She took a deep breath, like she needed to gather courage.
"The owner still remembered her. Said she always smiled when serving customers."
She looked up at him, her eyes clearer than ever.
"I realized... I don't belong in your world. I never did."
Ryan looked at her—and suddenly interrupted her self-denial.
"You're part of my life," he said, voice low but resolute."This isn't about whether you fit or not."
He slowly pulled out the now-wet notebook and handed it to her.
"We said from the start—we'd finish this performance together."He looked straight into her eyes."Do you still want to?"
Emily stared at him, her eyes glistening, as if something inside her had finally melted.
She didn't hesitate.
She nodded.
In that moment, there was no more pretending, no more fleeing, no more cold agreements.
Only something real—something shared.
The elevator doors slid shut behind them. As the numbers climbed, Emily suddenly whispered:
"I brought oden… The owner said it was my mom's favorite."
Ryan turned to look at her, a faint smile at his lips."Perfect. I didn't eat anything tonight."
Their shadows reflected in the mirrored elevator doors, slowly drawing closer—like two lives finally aligning again.
Meanwhile, in a suite upstairs, Lucas returned to his room.
A newly delivered envelope labeled Confidential lay waiting on the table. He took off his jacket, opened the file, and found a familiar name on the first page:
Kai Lin.
Flipping through the pages, Lucas found an old internship report—three informal complaints involving female patients, two departmental transfers. None of the cases were formally recorded, but the discomfort they left behind was undeniable.
A photo slipped out—Kai standing at a university podium, confident and composed. In the blurred background: a banner that read "Mental Health Research Society."
Lucas narrowed his eyes, fingers brushing the edge of the page. A cold smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
"So… the one who really needs to be investigated—is him."
He slid the photo back into the folder. His eyes turned sharp, like the ocean before a storm—calm on the surface, but full of hidden currents.
The real story was just beginning.