A private apartment near Shibuya Station, Tokyo.
The air inside was thick with tension, pressing down like an invisible weight.
A real estate agent—two years into the business—was currently facing an unusual dilemma.
Today's client was a breathtakingly beautiful young woman. As always, she maintained a cool and elegant demeanor, speaking little as they toured the apartment.
Everything had gone smoothly—until the moment she stepped inside and locked eyes with the landlord.
The room froze.
A silent, electric pressure filled the space, too heavy for the agent to ignore. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, forcing a stiff smile as she cautiously asked,
"Do you two… know each other?"
The question shattered the silence.
The landlord, a man who seemed completely unbothered by the tension, set the contract aside and stood up, stretching slightly before flashing an easy, knowing smile.
"We do," he said. His voice was calm, confident. Unshaken.
The agent, who prided herself on reading the mood, instinctively felt that "knowing each other" was an understatement. But professionalism came first. If this connection could help close the deal, all the better.
"That's wonderful!" she said quickly. "If you two are already acquainted, this will make things much easier! We can sit down and go over the details of the contrac—"
"There's no need," the woman interrupted, her tone sharp and decisive.
The chill in her voice felt like a sudden gust of winter wind, making the agent unconsciously shrink back, despite the warm spring weather outside.
But the landlord? He didn't react at all. If anything, the amusement in his eyes deepened.
"Kasumigaoka-senpai," he said smoothly, "as decisive as ever."
"Tch!"
A sharp click of the tongue echoed through the apartment.
Kasumigaoka Utaha—elegant, beautiful, and currently fuming—crossed her arms over her chest. The movement caused her crisp white school uniform to tighten slightly, emphasizing her figure. Her long, slender legs, clad in black stockings, trembled almost imperceptibly as her leather shoes tapped against the wooden floor.
Anyone who knew her well would recognize this small habit of hers. She did it when she was irritated. Or flustered.
And right now? She was definitely both.
For all her cool-headed, untouchable demeanor, this man—her ex-boyfriend—had thrown her completely off balance with just one sentence.
If she were truly as decisive as she claimed to be, she wouldn't be standing there, hesitating.
She wouldn't have reacted so obviously.
And they both knew it.
"Speaking of decisiveness," she shot back, her voice laced with cold sarcasm, "who could possibly be more decisive than you? Isn't that right, ex-boyfriend-kun?"
The real estate agent's breath hitched.
She had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a strange chill down her spine.
This wasn't just an awkward reunion.
This was the unmistakable tension of ex-lovers meeting again—one side still holding onto resentment, the other completely unfazed.
Subtly, she glanced at the landlord.
A sudden summer breeze pushed past the clouds, allowing sunlight to stream through the window behind him. The golden light outlined his sharp features, highlighting the contrast between his unruly hair and his refined, almost aristocratic bone structure.
His skin was smooth, strikingly fair. His brows, naturally sharp. His eyes? A piercing gaze that felt as if it could see through anyone with just a glance.
The agent couldn't help but stare for a moment.
Ah.
So that's why.
The mystery of why a goddess-like beauty such as Kasumigaoka Utaha looked ready to murder someone suddenly made sense.
This man wasn't just some random ex. He was dangerously attractive, the type who left an impact. The type women regretted losing.
A sour feeling twisted in the agent's stomach.
Damn Riajuus. Not only do you get all the fun in youth and love, but now you're making my job difficult too?!
"Ugh, so annoying! Riajuus should explode!"
Meanwhile, the landlord—who had just been called out by name—remained completely unbothered.
If anything, he seemed entertained.
His lips curled into an even wider grin as he leaned back slightly, hands casually tucked into his pockets.
"Hello there, my ex-girlfriend."
Kasumigaoka Utaha flinched—just a little—but that tiny movement didn't escape his notice.
Her irritation surged, evident in the sharp exhale she let out before turning to the agent.
"I want another apartment," she said icily.
The real estate agent hesitated.
Clearing her throat, she spoke carefully.
"Apologies, Kasumigaoka-san, but at the moment, this might be the only apartment that meets your requirements."
As expected, the room's temperature seemed to drop.
She quickly added, "This is Shibuya, after all. Private apartments here are rare, and the available listings are extremely limited…"
Kasumigaoka Utaha wasn't unreasonable. She understood the reality of Tokyo's housing market.
Still, the steady clack-clack of her shoes against the floor resumed.
She was backed into a corner.
Option one: Rent this apartment.
Option two: Waste more time searching for something farther away or with worse conditions.
As a night owl, proximity to Toyosaki Academy was important. And given her work as a novelist, she needed privacy and quiet.
In other words—this apartment was perfect.
Except for one thing.
The landlord.
Her gaze flickered toward him again.
He was still watching her, still smirking.
That expression—was that provocation?
It was.
Definitely.
Kasumigaoka Utaha clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
She refused to let him win.
"I'll take it," she declared, voice firm.
The landlord's smirk widened ever so slightly.
"Good choice."
Kasumigaoka Utaha swore she saw a flash of amusement in his eyes—like a predator who had just lured his prey exactly where he wanted it.
But she lifted her chin, unwilling to back down.
If he thought this was over, he was dead wrong.
This was just the beginning.