The gentle breeze whispers through the city, a soft hush against the glass towers. Today, Yuzuha has a photoshoot at her company, Hoshikazi Atelier. A sleek black car pulls up in front of her, its presence an unspoken command. She steps in, the door closing with a muffled click.
"Morning, Yuzuha-san," the driver greets her.
"Good morning,"she replies, her voice steady. "How is your day?"
"The same as usual." His tone is neutral, detached. Then, after a pause, he adds, "But today is a special day for the company."
Yuzuha arches a brow. "Special?"
"Yes. For the first time, the CEO will be here."
She nearly jolts forward. "What? The CEO is coming?"
The driver nods. Yuzuha leans back, staring at the passing skyline. "I've been working at Hoshikazi Atelier since its inception. I was the first model. And yet... I have never seen his face."
"No one has,"the driver murmurs. "They say he's an introvert. A ghost. A billionaire whose presence is only a rumor. People whisper that even his shadow is unseen."
"Strange, isn't it?" she muses. "Why would he suddenly appear now?"
"I don't think it's strange at all," the driver says, his gaze steady through the rearview mirror. "For some, today is just another morning. For others, it's the start of something new."
Yuzuha watches the blurred city lights, fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress. An inexplicable weight presses against her chest. Why do I feel anxious all of a sudden?
The world keeps moving. People exist in parallel, some in joy, others in despair. Some chase dreams, some chase money. Some are trapped in time, waiting for nothing. This world is cruel, rarely showing its kinder side. And even when it does, that happiness is fleeting. It comes like a mirage—only to vanish the moment you reach for it. That is the truth.
"Yuzuha-san, we've been waiting for you!" One of the younger models beams as she steps inside the studio.
She smiles lightly, scanning the place. Over ten makeup rooms, twenty different sets, and a sea of professionals bustling about. Despite her reserved nature, Yuzuha has a magnetic presence. People gravitate toward her, as if drawn by something unseen.
"Hey, Yuzuha, did you hear? The CEO is coming today," one of them chirps.
She nods. "Yeah, I heard."
Another girl grins, kneeling beside her. "I wonder what your reaction will be when you see him. They say he's ridiculously attractive."
"Attractive?" Yuzuha scoffs. "I assumed he'd be an old man."
"Old men are creepy. They only care about controlling young models. But if the CEO is young... well, that's a different story," the girl teases with a laugh.
"They're insane,"Yuzuha thinks, amused.
A hand suddenly grips her wrist. "Yuzuha, you're acting strange. Do you have a crush on someone?"
She exhales. "No, it's not like that. If I love, I will always be loyal. But yes... I do have someone."
Gasps ripple through the group. "Who's the lucky guy?" they tease.
"You'll find out soon enough," she murmurs, her gaze flickering to the corner of the room. There, standing in quiet solitude, is "KENZO ISHIDO"
Silver hair, deep violet eyes, a height just brushing six feet. His frame is lean, draped in a loose white shirt and black trousers. His expression is unreadable, yet there's something mesmerizing about his stillness.
He looks almost unreal.
"Yuzuha-san, the manager is calling for you. The CEO wants to meet you in his office."
She nods, the girls whispering in her ear as she steps into the elevator. The city stretches beneath her, glowing in the early light. The air grows heavy as the lift ascends, a silent anticipation thickening in her lungs.
Why does it feel like the world is shifting?
The 35th floor. The assistant walks ahead, his movements eerily precise, like someone who has been conditioned for obedience. Yuzuha feels a chill but says nothing. Keep walking. Ignore the unease. Life doesn't wait for anyone.
At last, they stop before a grand door, carved with intricate designs of gold and black. A symbol of wealth, power, and something darker lurking beneath.
The assistant pushes it open.
The office is vast, an expanse of cold luxury. Statues loom in the corners, their stone eyes hollow and watching. She steps inside, her heartbeat steady yet alert.
At the far end, a high-backed chair faces away from her. A presence lingers in the air, suffocating yet magnetic. And then, a voice—low, smooth, and chilling.
"Welcome, Yuzuha Hinamiyo."
The chair turns slowly, revealing the silhouette of a man bathed in the dim glow of the city lights.
"Welcome to my world."