The Monday morning air felt different. With the bonus cash from the audit tucked into her bag and a new, soft pillow waiting back at the apartment, Rika actually felt a glimmer of hope. Even the sight of Rentaro at his desk, staring out the window with his usual detached expression, didn't irritate her as much as usual.
But that feeling vanished the moment the school’s intercom crackled to life during second period.
"Would Rika Shinozaki of Class 3-A please report to the main office? You have a visitor."
The classroom went silent. Rika’s heart did a slow, painful somersault. Rentaro’s head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing. He knew she didn't get visitors.
Rika stood up, her legs feeling like they belonged to a marionette. She walked down the hallway, the linoleum floors reflecting the harsh overhead lights. When she pushed open the heavy oak doors of the office, she saw her.
Standing by the window was a girl who looked like a smaller, softer version of Rika. It was Mio, her younger sister. Behind her stood their mother, looking as elegant and cold as a marble statue.
"Rika," her mother said, her voice devoid of any warmth. "You look... disheveled. I see 'independence' hasn't quite suited you."
"Mother. Mio. Why are you here?" Rika asked, clutching the hem of her blazer.
"Mio has a piano recital at the conservatory nearby," her mother explained, checking her watch. "She insisted on seeing you. Apparently, she missed her 'big sister's' guidance. Though I told her you were busy learning the value of a yen."
Mio stepped forward, her eyes brimming with a mix of guilt and pity. "Rika-nee... are you really living in that place? Dad said it’s a slum. Please, just apologize. Tell him you’ll focus on the entrance exams and stop talking about 'finding your own path.' He’ll let you come back."
Rika looked at her sister—the "prodigy" who lived in a world of polished grand pianos and heated floors. For a second, the temptation to say yes was overwhelming. She was tired. She was hungry. She missed her old bed.
But then she remembered the smell of ginger pork in Rentaro’s room. She remembered the weight of the 7-Eleven bonus in her pocket—money she had earned.
"I'm not coming back to be a trophy, Mio," Rika said, her voice steadier than she expected. "And I'm not apologizing for wanting a life that belongs to me."
Her mother’s expression sharpened. "Fine. Continue your little tantrum. But don't expect another cent. Come, Mio. We’ll be late for your rehearsal."
As they swept out of the room, Rika stood frozen. The office staff were staring. She felt small, exposed, and utterly alone—until she turned to leave and saw a familiar figure leaning against the lockers just outside the door.
Rentaro was there, his hands in his pockets. He’d clearly followed her.
"The 'Ice Queen' has a family of blizzards, I see," he said quietly.
"Did you hear all of that?" Rika whispered, her eyes stinging.
"Enough," Rentaro replied. He stepped closer, blocking the view of the nosy students passing by. He didn't offer a hug or a platitude. Instead, he reached into his bag and pulled out a small, unopened carton of strawberry milk—the kind they sold at the 7-Eleven.
"You're shaking, Shinozaki. Blood sugar’s dropping. Drink it."
Rika took the carton, the cold plastic grounding her. "They think I'm failing, Rentaro. They think I'm going to crawl back."
Rentaro looked her straight in the eye, his gaze intense. "Then don't. Beat them the same way you beat the inventory audit. One step at a time, until they can't even see your shadow anymore."
He turned and started walking back toward the classroom. "And hurry up. We have a literature quiz in ten minutes, and I’m not letting you use 'family drama' as an excuse for getting a lower score than me."
Rika looked at the strawberry milk, then at his retreating back. The weight in her chest didn't disappear, but it became easier to carry. She took a sip, wiped her eyes, and followed him.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKThZ8u11je
and then Add to home screen.