𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓.

── .✦ 20

The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden rays over Magnolia Street. The scent of jasmine drifted faintly through the air, carried by a warm breeze that rustled the leaves of neatly trimmed hedges lining the road. Y/n stood at the edge of the sidewalk, her hands clasped in front of her and her shoes tapping a quiet rhythm against the cobblestone, betraying her nerves.

She had checked her reflection in the storefront glass more times than she cared to admit. Her hair had stayed in place, and her golf outfit—clean, proper, and chosen under Ayato's painfully logical eye—was presentable. Still, a low buzz of anxiety sat beneath her ribs like a timer ticking down.

Today wasn't just a casual get-together. It was the first time she'd ever been invited to something so personal—an intimate afternoon with a friend's family. Not just any friend, either. The Saikous were a household name, their wealth and influence spanning generations. Megamo, ever gentle and thoughtful, had extended the invitation with sincerity, but a part of her still couldn't shake the fear of not fitting in. Of being tolerated instead of welcomed. That was what she dreaded the most—being treated like an outsider.

The sound of tires crunching against the street pulled her from her thoughts.

A sleek white Rolls-Royce coasted to a graceful stop in front of her. Even parked, it exuded quiet authority. The chauffeur stepped out, opened the door with precision, and out stepped Megamo Saikou.

He looked effortlessly elegant. Dressed in a crisp white Ralph Lauren polo, cream tailored shorts, and white tennis shoes, he was the picture of clean refinement. His silver Rolex gleamed subtly on his wrist, and his signature pale-blue hair was tied back neatly in a low ponytail, accentuating the regal lines of his face.

When his eyes met hers, his posture lit up with delight, and he took a single step forward as if to greet her—

But then he paused.

Y/n instinctively shifted her weight, wrapping one arm around herself, the other adjusting her visor as she looked away. Her face flushed under the sun's glow.

"Am I... overdressed?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, half-hidden behind nervous laughter.

For a second, Megamo forgot how to breathe. The world slowed just enough for him to memorize every detail: the shy tilt of her head, the way the sunlight kissed her skin, and how effortlessly her outfit—simple as it was—made her look like she belonged in a painting.

"N-No!" he stammered, quickly clearing his throat. "You look—"

'Amazing. Beautiful. Radiant. More than I deserve to be seen with.'

"Splendid," he finally settled on, smiling warmly as he composed himself again. "Absolutely splendid, Y/n."

The way he said her name, gentle and laced with something quieter underneath, made her heart skip—not the overwhelming thud of infatuation, but the warm flutter of a comfort she hadn't realized she missed.

Y/n blinked at him, her lips tugging into a small smile. "You're saying that just to be nice."

"I would never lie to you," Megamo replied, his tone soft, almost reverent. "I promise."

He offered his hand to help her into the car—not because she needed help, but because it was second nature to him, treating others with care and courtesy. She hesitated only for a second before taking it.

The interior of the car smelled faintly of cedar and something floral. The seats were butter-soft leather, and the air conditioning whispered gently against the quiet hum of the engine.

As the chauffeur closed the door, Megamo adjusted the cuff of his sleeve and turned toward her. "My mother will be delighted to meet you, by the way. She's very fond of old-world etiquette, but she's quite gentle once you get to know her."