The morning after the "Ghost" appeared on Court 1, the Kodakawa apartment was unnervingly quiet. Usually, the penthouse was a battlefield of clashing egos—Karen’s grunts of exertion, Shino’s clinical lectures, and Marin’s dramatic monologues.
Today, there was only the low hum of the air purifier and the rhythmic tock-tock of Mikoto chopping vegetables in the kitchen.
Mikoto’s hands were steady, but his mind was a fractured mirror. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blurry faces of the crowd and felt the weight of the racket in his hand. His digital watch glowed a calm green, but he knew it was a lie. He was just numb.
"You’re cutting those carrots too thin," a voice whispered.
Mikoto jumped, the knife slipping and nicking the cutting board. Marin was leaning against the marble island. She wasn't wearing her "Starlet" silk or her "Indie Muse" linen. she was in a faded St. Jude’s hoodie with a coffee stain on the sleeve. Her hair was a bird's nest of blonde tangles.
"I didn't hear you come out," Mikoto said, exhaling slowly.
"I've been standing here for three minutes," Marin said, her voice sounding small and raspy. She climbed onto a barstool, pulling her knees to her chest. She looked... hollow. "I watched you. You look like you’re trying to chop the memories out of your head."
"Something like that," Mikoto muttered, returning to the carrots. "How are the others?"
"Karen is at the gym, trying to punch a heavy bag until she forgets she almost cried on national television. Shino is in the lab, probably trying to find a chemical cure for 'embarrassment,'" Marin sighed. She reached out and picked up a discarded carrot slice, turning it over in her fingers. "But me? I have a screen test in four hours. And I can’t move my face."
"Your face looks fine to me, Marin."
"That’s the problem," she snapped, her eyes suddenly wet. "It looks fine. It always looks fine. My director called me this morning. He said the footage of me protecting you on the court went viral. He said for the first time in my career, I didn't look like a 'Kodakawa.' I looked like a human being."
She leaned forward, her forehead resting on the cool marble. "And then he told me if I can’t bring that 'humanity' to the screen test today, he’s giving the lead role to someone else. But Mikoto... I don't know how to be human on command. I've been playing a character since I was six years old."
Mikoto set the knife down. He saw the genuine terror in her posture. This wasn't a nightmare roommate being "terrible" because she was messy; she was "terrible" because she was terrified of being empty.
"My backstory isn't like Karen's," Marin whispered, not looking up. "She was born to win. Shino was born to know. I was born to be watched. When I was seven, my father put me in a commercial for his hospital. I had to smile and hold a teddy bear while he talked about 'The Future of Excellence.' I realized then that as long as I smiled the right way, he was proud of me. So I kept smiling. For ten years, I haven't had a single feeling that wasn't written for me by a screenwriter."
She looked up at him, her eyes wide and searching. "Yesterday, when I saw you on that court... I felt something that wasn't in a script. It was sharp. It was scary. And now that it’s gone, I feel like a blank page again. I'm empty, Mikoto."
Mikoto reached across the counter. He didn't take her hand—he knew she was fragile—but he placed a small, warm piece of toast he’d just made in front of her.
"You’re not empty," Mikoto said firmly. "You’re just out of practice. You’ve spent so long being everyone else that you forgot how to be Marin. So, we're going to fix that."
"How?"
"We're going to go to your screen test," Mikoto said, untying his apron. "But not as an actress and her maid. You’re going to go as a girl who is tired of being perfect. And I’m going to be the person who reminds you that you don't have to be."
Marin looked at the toast, then at him. For the first time, a small, unpracticed smile touched her lips. It wasn't "Starlet" perfect. It was a little crooked.
"I'm going to look like a mess on camera, aren't I?"
"The best characters always do," Mikoto replied.
As they left the apartment, Mikoto didn't see the shadow by the elevator. A student with a camera phone was waiting. The "Ghost" and the "Starlet" were walking out together, and the first chapter of Marin’s real story was about to be leaked to the world.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡb1OwOCz5fH
and then Add to home screen.