The invitation had arrived not with ceremony, but with weight. A simple embossed card slipped beneath his door late at night:
"Dinner. Tomorrow. 7 PM. Tōtsuki Elite Tower, East Wing. — Erina Nakiri."
Riku Kaizen turned the card over in his fingers under the soft lamplight. It carried no flourish, no pomp—only confidence, the kind that didn't need to shout.
Still, he knew what it meant.
He was being invited into her world.
The Ivory Tower.
The next evening, he dressed with the same care he gave to cooking: deliberate but without vanity. A pressed black mandarin-collared shirt, tailored dark slacks, and a soft leather wrist cuff—nothing overbearing, yet impossible to miss.
At precisely 7:00 PM, he arrived at the entrance of the East Wing.
Two suited guards stepped aside wordlessly.
The elevator ride was silent and swift. When the doors slid open, Riku found himself staring into a hallway lined with gold-accented panels and soft recessed lighting. The floor beneath him was marble, polished to a mirror's sheen.
He followed the subtle scent of saffron and wine to a door already slightly ajar.
And there she was.
Erina Nakiri, standing by the window in a plum-colored silk dress, the city lights painting golden halos in her hair. She turned when he entered, one brow lifting in assessment.
"You're punctual," she said.
"I respect the time of those who invite me," Riku replied.
"Good," she said "Because tonight, time is the one thing we have… and not much of it."
He stepped inside.
The room was elegant—long table set for two, candles burning low, and silver covers hiding the courses to come. A bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti lay on its side in a crystal cradle.
Riku glanced around "No chefs?"
"I cooked," Erina said.
He blinked.
"You seem surprised."
"Not at all. Just… honored."
She motioned for him to sit, and he did.
She revealed the appetizer: a minimalist but decadent plate of uni with chilled daikon ribbons and a quail egg yolk perched atop a tiny biscuit.
Riku studied it, then tasted.
The sea urchin was rich and briny, but the daikon balanced the intensity with crisp freshness. The yolk added a final, mellow depth.
He swallowed, set down his spoon, and looked at her.
"That was beautiful," he said simply.
Her shoulders relaxed slightly "You're not the first to compliment my cooking."
"No. But I mean it in a way most wouldn't understand."
Erina tilted her head "Explain."
Riku met her gaze evenly "You don't cook like someone trying to impress. You cook like someone trying to be understood."
Erina blinked—once. A flush of pink crept up her neck before she turned away to uncover the second course.
Riku grinned internally. He'd caught her off-guard.
Dinner continued with elegance and surprising ease. A poached seabass with saffron emulsion. Filet mignon over black truffle risotto. Then a finale of lavender panna cotta paired with caramelized orange segments.
Everything was exquisite.
But the true course of the night was their conversation.
"You've built walls," Riku said quietly "But you don't live behind them."
Erina was silent.
He continued, "You step out when you think no one's looking. Just like you did at the greenhouse. Like tonight."
She looked at him, eyes narrowed "You assume a lot."
"I observe a lot."
"And you think that gives you insight?"
"No," Riku said "I think it gives me the possibility of insight."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Erina leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms "Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?"
"Saying things that stay in my head long after you're gone."
Riku smiled faintly "Maybe I'm just selfish. Maybe I want to live there."
The silence that followed was electric.
For a heartbeat, the air between them thickened—not with tension, but something deeper. Something unnamed.
Erina rose abruptly, walking to the window "I've never had someone talk to me like you do."
Riku followed her gaze "I don't see you as 'God Tongue.' I see you as Erina. A girl who grew up with perfection shoved down her throat and still chooses to reach for more."
She turned sharply "You don't know me."
"I want to."
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
A sharp knock broke the moment.
Hisako stood at the door, her face flushed with concern.
"Erina-sama… forgive me, but there's something urgent. From your father."
Erina's entire posture changed. The softness vanished. The air turned cold.
"I see, Riku—" she hesitated, eyes flickering "Thank you for coming."
"I'm glad I did," he said "If nothing else, I learned something."
"What's that?"
"That the ivory tower has windows… and maybe even doors."
She looked away.
He left without another word.
That night, as he returned to his dorm, Riku's phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
"You're straying too close to something you don't understand. Stay away from her. Final warning. — A."
Riku stared at the message.
Then deleted it without a second thought.
He wasn't going anywhere.
Meanwhile, Erina sat alone in the darkened dining room, untouched wine glass in hand. Her heart was beating faster than it should've been.
Riku Kaizen.
He wasn't like the others.
And that made him dangerous.
But also…
Irresistibly real.