The hall was a sea of elegance—chandeliers glittering like constellations, classical music whispering through the air, and the finest elite of Japan's upper circles sipping champagne and exchanging hollow pleasantries. Every guest was dressed in perfection, but only two hearts were out of place.
Izumi Aoyama stood near the back of the ballroom, still stunned. His tie felt too tight, his shoes pinched, and the words Ashford Kamihara had spoken moments ago echoed in his head like thunder:
"Let us celebrate the engagement of my daughter—Marina Kamihara."
He had barely processed it when the crowd began clapping, turning toward Marina, who stood frozen at the center of the room in a shimmering sapphire gown. Her expression was unreadable.
Beside her stood a tall young man in a dark navy suit—Haruto Minazuki. The so-called fiancé. He had sharp features, clean posture, and a gentle smile that seemed utterly out of place in this cold arrangement.
Izumi's mind raced. What's going on? She never told me… was this why she was so nervous?
"Don't jump to conclusions," whispered a voice near him.
Izumi turned. One of the bodyguards, arms crossed, watched the scene like a hawk. "You still have a chance, Aoyama. Don't stand still."
Before Izumi could reply, the music changed. A slow, elegant waltz began. A spotlight landed on Marina and Haruto.
Ashford raised his glass again. "And now… let us begin with the first dance."
The crowd parted like the sea, revealing the polished marble floor. Marina hesitated, clearly tense. But Haruto gently offered his hand, his voice low and kind.
"This isn't what it looks like," he said without moving his lips.
Marina blinked. "Huh?"
"I'm just here to help," he continued, guiding her toward the center. "I have a girlfriend. A scary one, in fact. I have no interest in getting in your way."
Marina's eyes widened a little. "Then why—?"
"Your father asked me to play a role. So I'm playing it. But if you want out of this, you'd better figure out your next move. Quickly."
Marina managed a small, astonished laugh. "You're the weirdest fake fiancé I've ever had."
"You're the first and only one," he said with a grin, twirling her into the start of the dance.
The guests watched in awe as the two young heirs moved with grace and precision. But anyone paying attention would notice the tension in Marina's jaw, the way her fingers trembled, and how her eyes kept flickering—searching—for someone else.
Izumi.
And Izumi saw it too. From the shadows, he clenched his fists. His heart pounded. This is a show. But for who? Why would she—why would Ashford do this?
He turned to leave.
"Where are you going?" said a voice. Niko stood dramatically behind him, in a dress that sparkled with ridiculous flair, holding a glass of soda instead of wine.
"This whole thing's a stage," Izumi said, voice low. "I don't belong here."
"Wrong," Niko said, sipping loudly. "This stage was built for you, you lovable idiot. Didn't you hear the ominous bodyguards? This is your boss battle."
"I didn't come here to fight."
"Then you better start walking now. Or she'll think you gave up."
Izumi froze.
"You think she's dancing because she wants to?" Niko added. "She's looking for you, even if she won't say it."
The music slowed to a finish. A polite round of applause rang out. Marina and Haruto bowed.
Then she turned—and vanished through one of the side doors.
Ashford's eyes narrowed slightly from the head table.
Marina's heels echoed softly as she stepped out onto the second-floor balcony, cold air brushing her cheeks. She leaned on the railing, trying to calm her breath.
She hated this.
All of it.
Her father's manipulation. The pressure. The mask she was forced to wear in front of the world. And worst of all, the expression Izumi had when he heard the announcement. That shock. That doubt.
A voice behind her startled her.
"Hey."
She turned.
Izumi stood in the doorway, his tie slightly loosened, the wind tousling his hair. His eyes were sharp—not angry, but determined.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked quietly.
"I could ask you the same thing," he replied, stepping closer. "What's going on, Marina?"
She looked away. "You heard it. I'm engaged."
"Liar."
She blinked.
"You're a lot of things, Kamihara," he said, voice low, "but a liar isn't one of them."
Marina's breath caught. She turned to him slowly.
Izumi stepped forward. "You didn't want this. So why?"
She laughed bitterly. "Because my father thinks he can control everything. He thought this would be… amusing."
Izumi paused, then asked, "And what do you think?"
Marina stared at him. In that moment, the icy princess mask cracked just slightly.
"I think… I'm tired of playing pretend."
Silence.
They stood close now, the space between them charged. Izumi reached out—just barely—touching her hand.
"You could've told me," he said. "I would've come anyway."
"I know," she whispered. "But I was scared."
"Of what?"
"Of what I'd do… if you looked at me like you were hurt."
Izumi didn't answer. Instead, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
The world seemed to still. Marina's cheeks flushed. Her eyes darted to his, unguarded for a heartbeat too long.
Izumi leaned in, just slightly—
A sudden knock came from the doorframe.
"Well, this is cozy," said Haruto, smirking. "Don't let me interrupt. I just came to tell Marina her father's looking for her. He's getting twitchy."
Marina let go of Izumi's hand immediately, face burning.
Haruto turned to Izumi and whispered just loud enough, "Don't let him scare you. You've already gotten further than most."
Then he walked off, whistling.
Izumi and Marina stood in silence again.
But this time… it was different.
To be continued…