I sat on the armchair, staring into the void like it personally wronged me. My hands wouldn't stop trembling. My knees bounced like they were trying to flee my body.
Ayase-san sat on the chair beside me, clutching her digital chart board like it was a life vest.
"S-So—" Her voice came out a squeak. "Marriage..."
I gripped my knees harder. My face felt like it could fry an egg.
"Y-Yeah…" I nodded, barely audible. "It's one of the... requirements... for the guardians..."
God,
What is this situation?
Is this pure coincidence??
Is this divine intervention??
I'm not even sure if I'm the luckiest or the unluckiest person on earth right now.
Have god forsaken me...?
I heard the faint rustle of fabric as Ayase-san shifted in her seat.
"If it's with you..." She muttered. "I—I don't mind..."
...
Huh?
My head snapped toward her. She was bright pink. Fidgeting. Eyes travelling across the floor. But… completely honest.
"I—I mean—" She twitched, turning towards me, and started waving her hands around—nervous and panicked.
"I live alone—and... you seem like a nice guy... And you work really hard... And you care so much about your mother... S—So... I think..." She settled back, lowering her hands. Though her fingers still trembled.
She gripped her skirt and attempted to curl into herself.
"I think... you would be... a great husband..."
My soul left my body, returned, and left again.
Then Ayase-san perked, sitting up straight. "But—I need to confirm with my father—"
"Ah, in that case," Mom said cheerfully, already unlocking her phone. "I'll call him right now,"
Both me and Ayase-san jolted like we've been electrocuted.
"Mom?!"
"Meguriya-san?!" Ayase-san yelped. "You know my father??"
"Hm-hm." Mom nodded, scrolling through contacts with purpose. "He's my childhood friend." She didn't even look at us.
This is happening.
This is really happening.
WAY TOO FAST.
I turned to Ayase-san—she looked equally frozen, equally doomed.
Then—
"Yo, Akari." A man's voice boomed from the phone's speaker.
Of course.
OF COURSE she put it on speaker.
"Yo, Kaz," Mom greeted casually. "Sorry for calling out of the blue."
"It's fine, it's fine," he replied. "So, what's the business?"
Mom smiled. She smiled like this was a business pitch she'd prepared for decades.
"My son wants to marry your daughter."
I choked so hard I nearly ascended.
Ayase-san's entire body flinched beside me, face bursting into a deeper shade of strawberry.
Mom continued cheerfully, as if she hadn't just declared the end of my life. "He's very serious."
"I—MOTHER—PLEASE—" I sputtered, reaching for her arm like a drowning man.
Ayase-san was clutching her board like a shield, absolutely mortified.
On the other end, Ayase-san's father burst into loud, hearty laughter. "BAHAHAHAHA—! Of course he does!"
...
What does that even mean?!
Mom nodded, satisfied. Ayase-san shrank into her seat. And I melted into mine.
This wasn't a conversation. It was an ambush. A tag-team parental takedown. And I was losing. Horribly.
"Alright, I'll sign her papers and schedule a mover tomorrow."
…Tomorrow?
TOMORROW?!
THE DAY AFTER TODAY??
TWELVE HOURS FROM NOW?!
My soul left my body, hovered above us, and wrote its will.
"Okay, thanks a lot." Mom ended the call like she'd just ordered takeout.
She turned to us with a bright and terrifyingly innocent smile that should never be trusted—like she DIDN'T just decide BOTH our futures without blinking.
"There you have it."
I stared at her.
Ayase-san stared at her.
We stared at each other.
Ayase-san's face was frozen, her digital board slipping a little on her lap.
"Meguriya-san..." she whispered, voice cracking.
"Mom…" I croaked. My voice came out small, thin—like my lungs had simply given up on oxygen.
"Alright, then." She clapped her hands together, the sound bright and decisive. "Now we just wait for her papers."
Then she smiled.
"Congratulations on your engagement, sweetheart."
For a full second, everything inside me shut down. My thoughts, my breath, the beat of my heart.
I'm… engaged?
With Ayase-san?
I turned toward her, slow and hesitant.
Her eyes were on me—steady, searching, impossible to read.
***
POV: Ayase Risa
I stepped out of the elevator, and the doors slid shut behind me with a low hiss.
The hallway stretched out in its usual sterile quiet—white walls, soft LED ceiling lights, the faint hum of electricity. Everything looked the same as it always did.
A cool draft from open hallway brushed against my cheeks, crisp and clean—a stark contrast to the muddled and warm feeling inside my chest.
I'm engaged…?
With Rion…?
The thought rose again, stubborn and intrusive, refusing to be pushed aside. No matter how many times I tried to focus on something else—anything else—it came back, stronger and louder.
My hand moved on its own, fingers brushing the fabric above my chest, where my heart was pounding like a wild animal. My steps echoed quietly against the floor as I walked, but everything felt distant. Muted. Like I was wrapped in a fog made of emotions I couldn't sort out.
Engaged.
To him.
My throat tightened.
As I neared my apartment door, the world suddenly snapped back into clarity at the sound of a voice—deep, roughened with age, and unmistakably familiar.
"Welcome back, Risa."
I stopped mid-step.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze.
"…Dad?"
He was leaning casually against the hallway wall right in front of my door, as if he belonged there. Still dressed in his black suit, perfectly ironed despite the late hour. A cigar rested between his fingers. The scent of tobacco drifted through the corridor, warm and nostalgic.
His greying hair—longer now than when I last saw him—shifted slightly in the breeze, giving him an almost dramatic silhouette.
He smiled, gentle but tired. "How've you been?"
I blinked, trying to catch up with reality. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd sign my papers tomorrow…"
"Ahh," He let out a short, almost sheepish chuckle. "I just got a little excited."
He flicked off a bit of ash, then rubbed his arm the way he always did when he was masking nerves behind casualness.
"How about we talk inside?" he said, tilting his head toward the door.
And just like that—the pounding in my chest returned, sharper than before.