Kuro Masahiko stood in the middle of the living room, his expression calm as the chaos unfolded around him. His wife, Ayame, was pacing back and forth, her face flushed with anger. She had been yelling for the past several minutes, her voice rising with every word, but Kuro remained unmoved.
"You never listen to me!" Ayame screamed, throwing a pillow at him with all her strength. "You never pay attention to me or our daughter! You're always off doing your own thing, acting like we don't even exist!"
Kuro dodged the pillow with ease, his eyes following her as she stormed around the room. He kept his voice low, trying to diffuse the situation. "Ayame, calm down. You're upset, I understand, but this isn't helping."
"Helping?" she spat back, grabbing a nearby book and flinging it in his direction. "You think you can just say 'calm down' and everything will be fine? I'm tired of you pretending like everything's okay when it's not!"
Kuro sighed, frustration beginning to gnaw at the edges of his usually composed demeanor. "I'm not pretending, Ayame. I just think we need to talk about this rationally."
But rationality was the last thing on Ayame's mind. She stopped her pacing, her eyes blazing with fury as she glared at him. "Talk? You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk about how I'm done with this! I'm leaving, Kuro! I'm taking our daughter, and we're leaving!"
Kuro's calm exterior cracked slightly, a flicker of irritation flashing in his dark eyes. "Ayame, don't say things you don't mean."
"Oh, I mean it," she hissed, reaching for the nearest object, a delicate vase that had been a wedding gift. "I can't do this anymore! You don't care about us!"
As she hurled the vase at him, time seemed to slow down. Kuro's reflexes kicked in, and he easily sidestepped the projectile. The vase smashed against the wall next to him, the sound of shattering porcelain echoing through the room.
Kuro closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to maintain his composure. When he opened them again, Ayame was already at the door, her face set in determination as she grabbed her coat and bag.
"I'm done, Kuro," she said coldly, her hand on the doorknob. "You can have your precious solitude."
Without another word, she slammed the door behind her, leaving Kuro alone in the wreckage of their living room. For a moment, he stood there, staring at the broken pieces of the vase scattered across the floor.
Finally, he let out a long, exasperated sigh, running a hand through his black hair. "Why does it always have to end like this?"
Kuro glanced around the room, his mind already calculating the best way to clean up the mess. But as he bent down to pick up the pieces, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt that lingered in the back of his mind.
His wife would probably leave him and take their daughter with him any day soon, and he wasn't willing to let that happened.
Kuro Masahiko sat slumped at the bar, the low hum of distant conversations and clinking glasses barely registering in his mind. He stared blankly at his empty glass, feeling the burn of the whiskey still lingering in his throat. The day had been hellish—Ayame had erupted in one of her usual tirades, accusing him of neglect, throwing anything within reach in a fury. But it was the threat to take their daughter and leave that had finally broken his calm. It was a line she had never crossed before, and it had cut deep, leaving him feeling more hollow than ever.
…..
The bartender, a rough-looking man who'd seen Kuro in this state more times than he could count, wordlessly refilled his glass. Kuro gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, his thoughts still tangled in the mess of his life. He raised the glass to his lips, savoring the sharp taste of the whiskey as it dulled the edges of his pain.
But before he could finish it, the bartender slid another drink toward him, this one in an intricately cut crystal glass. The amber liquid inside was richer, more inviting, and it carried a faint, almost floral scent that was unfamiliar to him. Kuro frowned and looked up. "I didn't order this," he said, his voice gruff with suspicion. "And I can't afford it."
The bartender, with his usual expressionless demeanor, leaned in slightly. "It's not from you. A lady at the far end of the bar asked me to give it to you." He nodded toward the dimly lit corner.
Kuro turned his head, squinting through the haze of smoke and low light. He could barely make out the figure of a woman sitting alone, her silhouette sharp against the darkness. Her hair, an odd shade of white that seemed to shimmer like mist, caught the light in a way that was almost ethereal, her chestnut skin shined in the moon light She was dressed casually in a fitted leather jacket and jeans, but there was an undeniable allure about her ,a confidence that radiated from her relaxed posture and the way she casually sipped her drink.
Kuro's heart skipped a beat as recognition set in. Anila. He hadn't seen her in years, but there was no mistaking that striking appearance. With a resigned sigh, he picked up the expensive drink and made his way toward her, his steps heavy with the weight of the past.
He slid into the seat next to her, placing the glass on the table with a soft clink. "What are you doing here, Marisa?" he asked, his tone laced with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity.
Anila turned her head slowly, her silver eyes locking onto his with a calm, almost amused expression. Her lips curled into a faint smile, a teasing glint in her gaze. "Kuro," she said softly, her voice smooth like honey, "I could ask you the same thing. Drowning your sorrows again, I see?"
Kuro didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he studied her, noticing the subtle changes time had brought. She still had that same effortlessly seductive charm, but there was a new maturity in her eyes, a depth that hinted at experiences he could only guess at.
She let out a small chuckle, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the air. She reached for the counter, her movements graceful and deliberate, and picked up a cigarette. As she lit it with a flick of her fingers, she took a slow, deep drag. The smoke curled around her, and as she exhaled, her odd white hair flowed like mist, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. "I'm just the messenger, Kuro," she said, her voice carrying a playful lilt. "And you, my dear, are the recipient."
Kuro leaned back slightly, narrowing his eyes at her. "The recipient of what, exactly?
Anila tilted her head slightly, studying him with an amused glint in her eyes. "A proposal, of course. The headmaster of Paragon Academy has asked me to recruit you. He thinks it's time for you to come back."
Kuro scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm too full of problems to take on any new job, especially one like that."
Anila's smile widened slightly, her demeanor still as relaxed and unbothered as ever. "Marriage troubles again?" she asked, her tone light, as if she were discussing the weather.
Kuro groaned in response, rubbing his temples as if to ward off the headache that was starting to brew. "You could say that," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. The alcohol was beginning to take its toll, making his thoughts fuzzy and his emotions harder to control.
Anila took another drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly. Her hair rippled as she breathed out, creating a mesmerizing effect that Kuro found hard to look away from. "You know," she began, her voice dropping to a more serious tone, "if you want to get away from all that, why not come back to the Academy? Train the next generation of heroes. It'll give you something to focus on other than your… domestic issues."
Kuro didn't respond immediately. He let his head fall onto his folded arms on the counter, feeling the cool surface against his forehead. The idea of returning to Paragon Academy was tempting, but the thought of facing his old life, the responsibilities, and the memories, it was almost too much to bear.
Anila watched him silently for a moment, then sighed softly. She put out her cigarette in the ashtray, the movement slow and deliberate, as if she were savoring the moment. Reaching into the pocket of her black leather jacket, she pulled out a check. With a casual flick of her wrist, she placed it on the wooden counter, her slender fingers slowly sliding it toward him.
Kuro lifted his head slightly, peering at the check as it came closer. He groaned, barely interested in what she was offering, but as the amount caught his eye, his interest piqued. "What's this?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
Anila leaned in slightly, her voice barely above a whisper. "My monthly salary," she replied, her tone casual as if she were discussing the price of coffee.
Kuro reached out and took the check from her fingers, his eyes widening as he read the amount. "Five million USD?" He turned to her sharply, disbelief etched across his features.
Anila nodded calmly, her expression unchanged. "Mr. SacraFortis made a substantial donation to the Academy this year. His daughter's enrollment opened the floodgates of wealth. The government also increased its funding to match. The students are living in unprecedented comfort, and the staff's compensation has… reflected that."
Kuro stared at the check, his mind racing. The world had indeed changed since he last set foot in Paragon Academy, and it seemed the institution had evolved with it. Most of the students were either on scholarships or were children of the world's elite. It was a different world now, one he wasn't sure he belonged in.
But five million dollars was a persuasive argument. He slipped the check into his pocket, his face growing serious as he looked back at Marisa.
"Where do I start?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with resignation.
Anila smiled, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "You start by sobering up, Kuro," she said, her tone warm but teasing. "Then, report to the headmaster tomorrow morning. He's expecting you."
Kuro nodded, the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders. The road ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: he wasn't running from his problems anymore. At least, not tonight.