The scent of boiled herbs lingered in the cramped, dimly lit apartment. A single flickering bulb cast long shadows on the peeling wallpaper. Naoto Hayashi sat on the edge of the futon, gently pressing a cool towel against his mother's forehead. Her breathing was shallow, but her smile never wavered.
"Don't worry about me, Naoto," she whispered, voice fragile like glass. "Just seeing you here is enough."
But Naoto couldn't ignore the pile of unpaid hospital bills stacked beside the television. Each envelope felt like a countdown he couldn't stop. His hands trembled, not from fear—but from helplessness.
The front door creaked open, revealing his father, Kazuya Hayashi, shoulders slumped, uniform stained with grease and exhaustion. He offered a tired smile.
"Dinner's simple again," he said, placing a plastic bag on the counter. "But things will get better. Just hang in there, kid."
A knock interrupted the moment. Firm. Intentional.
Naoto exchanged a glance with his father before rising to answer it. On the other side stood a tall man in a pristine suit, his presence commanding the space around him. Silver cufflinks gleamed under the hallway light.
"Mr. Hayashi," he greeted, bowing slightly. "It's been a long time."
"Kazuya," Kazuya murmured, surprised. "Shinji?"
Shinji Hayato stepped inside with the air of someone used to being in control. Wealth surrounded him, not just in appearance, but in the way he spoke—measured, assured.
They sat. Tea was poured, awkwardly. Silence lingered until Shinji finally spoke.
"I owe you more than I can say, Kazuya. Years ago, you pulled me out of a place I couldn't escape alone. I never forgot."
Kazuya shook his head. "That was nothing. You'd have done the same for me."
Shinji smiled faintly. "Perhaps. Regardless, I've been covering your wife's medical expenses anonymously. But I don't wish to continue this as charity." He turned to Naoto. "I want to give you a chance."
Naoto blinked. "A chance?"
"My daughter, Rika, is bright but unmotivated. She lives in her own world, isolated from reality. I want someone grounded to tutor her. Someone who can teach her more than academics." He paused. "Come live at my estate. Guide her. Help her grow. In return, I'll continue to support your mother's treatment."
The room fell silent.
Naoto clenched his fists. "You want me to babysit your daughter for money?"
Shinji's expression didn't change. "I'm offering you a job. One that could shape both your futures."
Naoto turned away, conflicted. He hadn't asked for this. It felt like being bought. Like trading pride for survival.
But then, a soft voice broke through.
"Naoto…" His mother struggled to sit up. "This could be your chance to grow, my son. You've carried so much already. Let this be a step forward, not backward."
He looked into her eyes—still shining, still full of hope. His heart twisted.
The decision was made.
"I'll do it," he said quietly. "But I'm not there to play games. I'll be professional."
---
Later That Week
The gates of the Hayato estate towered over him, cold iron and polished stone. Beyond them stretched a mansion that seemed to come from another world—gleaming windows, manicured gardens, silence that screamed wealth.
Naoto adjusted the strap on his duffel bag and stepped inside.
Marble floors reflected the chandelier light. Everything smelled of polished wood and roses. He felt small.
And then he saw her.
At the top of the staircase stood Rika Hayato—long, jet-black hair tied in a loose ribbon, arms crossed, expression unreadable. She looked down at him, eyes indifferent.
Naoto nodded politely.
She rolled her eyes, turned, and walked away without a word.
A wall had been built between them before a single conversation. A world divided by wealth, pride, and unspoken resentment.
Naoto took a deep breath.
He wasn't here to be liked.
He was here to save his mother.
And maybe, just maybe—find something more.