Chapter 27

Yuki’s brow furrows, concern flickering across her face. “Isamu? What’s wrong?” she asks confused.

Isamu keeps his eyes averted, and his fingers fidget nervously. “You have a boyfriend,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t be feeling this, or holding your hand like that.. Sorry..”

Yuki blinks, taken aback. “No? I don’t have a boyfriend,” she says, genuinely puzzled. “Where did you get that from?”

Isamu frowns. “Huh?” he says, blinking. “Dori isn’t your boyfriend?”

Yuki pauses, her lips parting as if she’s about to speak, then closing again. “Oh.. that,” she says quietly, glancing away for a moment.

There’s a brief hesitation before she looks back at him, more certain now.

“It’s not like that. It’s complicated, but.. no, we’re not actually together.”

“Not actually together?” he repeats, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that.. we’re not an actual couple.” She avoids his eyes, her lips pressing together.

“Not an actual couple..” Isamu repeats slowly. “Then what? A fake couple? You’re just pretending? Or do you mean that it’s not serious? That you’re seeing him casually but it doesn’t mean anything?”

“Pretending.”

A pause.

“Why..?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“What? Why’s that?”

“Because..” She pauses and bites her lower lip. Then she shakes her head slowly. “I can’t tell you that either.”

Isamu frowns, thinking. “Did you do it.. to make me jealous?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then why? Please tell me, Yuki.”

“I can’t. Not yet, at least. I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Isamu doesn’t respond with words. He just watches her. And for the first time, he notices all the little things he usually overlooks.

His gaze moves to her hands―how her fingers twist the edge of her sleeve, the quick, tiny jerks as if she can’t keep them still―then slides up to her mouth, where her lips press together and the muscles at the corner twitch once before settling.

Finally, his eyes catch the subtle flicker in hers, the way they dart away and back again, and the small, almost imperceptible swallow that betrays just how tense she really is.

“You’re nervous,” he says at last, quiet but certain.

Yuki stiffens, her heart stuttering in her chest. She hadn’t expected him to notice.

He leans just a little closer, enough for her to feel the warmth of his presence without crowding her, studying her like he’s seeing her for the first time.

“Yuki..” he says softly, worry etched into his face. “Are you okay..?”

The question cracks something open.

Her lips part as if she might answer, then press together again, a tiny breath trembling out of her instead.

That’s when the world suddenly tilts, sound rushing out of her ears as memories slam into her all at once; the ai bot acting weird, the teddy bear in the package, the blackmail, the threats, the forced meetings, the nights she stayed awake, convinced he was outside her window, the suffocating fear of being watched constantly, the times she froze while he touched and kissed her, the helplessness of not being able to tell anyone―

Yuki doesn’t even notice the tears streaming down her face, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps, her nails digging into her palms, and a cold sweat forming along her hairline and neck.

Isamu moves quickly, getting off his chair, kneeling beside her, and placing a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Yuki, what’s wrong?” His voice is tight with shock and concern. “Are you being manipulated again? Who is it? Mei? Dori?”

Yuki can’t answer. She keeps crying, more tears sliding down her cheeks, shoulders shaking with every breath she can barely catch.

For a moment he hesitates, uncertainty flickering across his features as if he’s unsure whether to stay close or give her room. But the fear in her eyes―raw, and unfiltered―pulls him in.

Without another word, he closes the remaining distance, wrapping his arms around her in a tight, protective hug. His muscles are a little stiff though, a tension in his shoulders and back he can’t fully shake―after all, they’ve never had this kind of contact―bodies pressed together―and he isn’t entirely sure she’s comfortable with it.

His hands rest cautiously on her back, tentative, almost waiting for her to pull away.

But then he feels her face press against his chest, soft and trusting despite her trembling, and something in him eases.

He shifts his arms, curling them slightly around her, leaning just enough to match her posture, and lets her settle into him without pressure.

For a long moment they stay like that.

Yuki’s breaths gradually slow, though shaky, and the quiet sobs fade into soft, uneven exhalations.

He can feel the tension in her body slowly melting into his hold, the subtle rise and fall of her chest syncing with his own.

For a few moments, the room is silent except for their breathing, and it feels like the outside world has slipped away, leaving only the fragile stillness between them.

Then, barely audible at first, the soft creak of a door interrupts the stillness.

Isamu tenses reflexively, just before his eyes drift upward―and freeze.

The door is open halfway.

And there, in the frame, stands Dori.

His face is tight, and there’s a chilling intensity in his eyes as they lock onto Yuki clinging to Isamu. Then there’s a flash of disbelief, as if he can’t accept what he’s seeing, and it’s immediately followed by a surge of possessiveness and anger that darkens his expression even further.

His jaw clenches, muscles working as if he’s fighting to control himself. His gaze doesn’t waver from Yuki, and the slightest twitch of a muscle hints that whatever comes next could be violent and impulsive.

Isamu’s eyes stay fixed on him, and he tightens his grip on Yuki as he studies the maniacal intensity radiating off him.

His mind flashes back suddenly to the hospital room with Mei, to the moment he stood hidden behind the curtain while a nurse questioned her in a low, urgent voice.

“Mei.. you have to tell me,” the man had said. “Please. We really need you. Another girl.. didn’t make it because of Dori.”

“Huh..?”

“Yeah.. and if you don’t tell me, someone else could get hurt.. someone could die.”

The memory shatters as Dori lunges forward without warning, closing the distance in a few quick, aggressive steps.

Isamu reacts on instinct. He pushes himself up from the ground, his muscles coiling with tension as he steps between them, using his body as a shield, while one hand remains on Yuki’s shoulder behind him, keeping her close and safe.

He hasn’t even finished turning all the way before Dori is suddenly there, so close that Isamu can feel the heat off him, can see the wild intensity blazing in his eyes.

Dori’s face is literally right in his, inches away, eyes locked on Yuki through him like he’s a worthless barrier.

For a heartbeat, the world narrows to those two faces; Isamu’s controlled and tense, Dori’s unpredictable and burning.

Isamu doesn’t flinch, and slowly tilts his chin up. His voice comes out low and steady despite the storm inside him.

“Who the hell are you..?”

TO BE CONTINUED…