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four days later
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The room was bathed in the soft, fading light of the setting sun, casting long shadows that stretched across the minimalist decor. The space was filled with a sense of detachment, a coldness that mirrored the emptiness in Rina's heart. She sat on the edge of the bed, her expression blank as she watched the man across from her slip on his shirt.
His movements were slow, deliberate, and exuded a confidence that bordered on arrogance. He was tall, with a muscular build that spoke of a man accustomed to battle. His jet-black hair, tousled and falling just above his piercing blue eyes, framed a face marked by sharp, chiseled features. A small scar traced a faint line along his left cheek, a testament to the dangerous life he led.
Despite his age of twenty-seven, there was a hardened, almost predatory quality to his gaze—one that spoke of countless battles and a past steeped in darkness.
This was Toji Fushiguro, a man who thrived in the shadows and embraced the thrill of danger. His presence was commanding, his very aura exuding a sense of dominance. The corners of his mouth curled into a smirk, a reflection of the amusement he felt as he watched Rina. There was something about her that intrigued him—a combination of strength and vulnerability that he found irresistible.
Rina, clad only in her lingerie, remained unfazed by his presence. Her body, though still, held an undercurrent of tension, a readiness to move at a moment's notice. Her eyes were distant, focused on something far beyond the confines of the room.
Toji's smirk deepened as he finished buttoning his shirt, the fabric rustling softly in the quiet. He took a step closer to her, his gaze never leaving her face. "You're always so detached, aren't you, bunny?" he murmured, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a familiar ease.
Rina's response was a slow blink, her face giving nothing away. She rose from the bed with the grace of a panther, fluid and purposeful, but made no move to acknowledge him further. Without sparing him another glance, she walked past him, her bare feet silent on the cool floor as she headed toward the closet.
She pulled out a simple, form-fitting black dress and slipped it on with practiced ease. The dress hugged her curves, the high neckline and long sleeves adding a touch of elegance that contrasted with the dark, dangerous aura she carried.
