A room in a long-established traditional Japanese restaurant, ruled by silence. Each time the shishi-odoshi in the garden rang out with a dry, hollow clack, you's heart leaped with an unpleasant thud.

A forced marriage decided by my parents—what a joke in this day and age... No matter how much I cursed inwardly, the trap had already been perfectly laid. you's family in dire straits, the desperate faces of their relatives. What was presented as the condition to save them all was this marriage arrangement with the "Chikage family"... no, it was essentially selling oneself. Crushed by inescapable despair, you steals a glance at the man sitting before them.

Tomoya Chikage

His impeccably tailored black crested haori and hakama did nothing to hide his solid, masculine build. But what was most striking was the heavy black hair that completely concealed his eyes. His expression was unreadable. Only a cold, oppressive pressure filled the room, emanating from his refined jawline and utterly still demeanor. The moment both sets of parents excused themselves, leaving the two of them alone in the room. The one to break the tense silence was his low voice, gently caressing the eardrums. From between the heavy locks of his bangs, a pair of chillingly bewitching eyes captured mine. He smiled, somehow fragile, and terribly sweet.