"So, did you enjoy the tea?" he asks, his gaze steady and his voice even, yet inviting.
"Y-yeah, I did. It was really good," I reply honestly, my voice steadier now that Yumiko isn't here. Even so, Julian's presence is intense—a blend of calm authority and refined charisma that keeps me on edge.
I take a quiet, deep breath, willing myself to relax as I reach for the teacup. The delicate warmth of the tea in my hands feels grounding.
"I'm glad to hear that," Julian responds, his voice smooth and composed, yet it carries a weight that demands attention. His every word feels deliberate, calculated.
Then, he tilts his head slightly, resting it on his fist as his gaze fixes on me. There's an unreadable calm in his expression, but his eyes hold a sharp, probing intelligence. "What do you think of Yumi, my daughter?"
The question catches me off guard, and I hesitate before answering. "Well… I think she's a very cute young lady, but…" I trail off for a moment, searching for the right words. "She has a, um, strong-willed personality. Stubborn, maybe… but in a way, I kind of like that about her."
As the words leave my mouth, a pang of regret follows. Did I just criticize her in front of her father? I shouldn't have said her personality needs work—what if he takes offense?
To my surprise, Julian chuckles softly, a low, rich sound that carries both amusement and warmth. "Ah, that's Yumi for you. Stubborn to her core," he says, swirling the tea in his cup. "But it's interesting that you seem to like her despite—or perhaps because of—that. Not many people would admit that so readily."
"Is that so?" I reply, my curiosity piqued. I decide to push a little further. "If you don't mind me asking, why is she like that? Why is she so… guarded?"
Julian's expression softens, though his eyes remain sharp. He takes a thoughtful sip of tea before answering. "It's hard to say, really. She's always been that way—headstrong and fiercely independent. I believe she's a good girl at heart, but she has trouble trusting others. For her own sake, she needs to change." He pauses, his gaze meeting mine with startling intensity. "I think if she found someone she could rely on—a friend, someone who understands her—that could make all the difference. Someone like you."
His words take me by surprise, and I sit up a little straighter. "Me? I… I'd like to try to be someone she can rely on," I say earnestly, the thought of helping Yumiko stirring something unfamiliar but resolute within me.
Julian's smile deepens, radiating approval. "That's good to hear, Kaito. Thank you."
Feeling the warmth of his praise, I nod. "And thank you, too, for letting me stay here. It means a lot."
"Of course," Julian replies smoothly. He takes another sip of tea, setting the cup down with practiced elegance. Then, he glances toward the maid standing by the door. "Would you care for a glass of wine while we chat?" he asks, his tone light but his offer clearly hospitable.
I hesitate, shifting awkwardly in my seat. "Uh, no thank you, sir. I don't drink alcohol," I admit. "I've never tried it before, so I'm not sure I'd like it."
Julian's eyebrows raise slightly, a glimmer of surprise in his expression. "Oh? Is that so?" He leans back in his chair, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Well, I think you should give it a try—just a little. It might surprise you."
Here's an improved version that sharpens the dialogue and brings Julian's machiavellian undertone to life:
"A little couldn't hurt… you're right, I might like it," I say, forcing a small smile. Turning down his request twice feels impossible in the weight of his presence. I resolve to go along with it—just this once.
Julian's lips curl into a pleased smile, his amusement evident. "That's the spirit." With a graceful motion, he turns his attention to Sophie. "Wine for two, please."
The maid bows slightly and exits the room, her movements as precise and elegant as ever.
Julian leans back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other with an air of casual authority. His gaze finds mine, sharp and calculating, though his smile remains warm. "Kaito," he begins smoothly, his tone shifting to something both intimate and conspiratorial, "if you're serious about wanting to get closer to Yumi… I could help you with that."
There's something deliberate in his words, as though he's already formulating a plan. His demeanor, so calm and assured, makes it clear he's no stranger to orchestrating outcomes. I swallow hard, uncertain whether to feel grateful or nervous under his watchful gaze.
What did he just say? "Help me? Get closer to her? Might I ask what you mean by that?" Curiosity fills my head with questions.
"Yes, Kaito, you heard me correctly," Julian says, his tone smooth and deliberate. "I'll help you grow closer to my daughter, and in return, you'll have a place to stay here for as long as you like." His words are carefully measured, spoken with the poise of a man who understands the weight of every syllable.
"I see. I'd be grateful to stay here, yes. I'll do my best to get closer to Yumiko," I reply, my voice steady despite the lingering confusion about the situation.
"Excellent…" He grins, his amusement tempered with a kind, knowing glint in his eyes.
Sophie approaches the table, her movements precise and graceful, as she places the wine before us.
The room grows dim, illuminated only by the flickering glow of the fire. Its warmth fills the space, carrying the subtle, smoky scent of burning wood, creating an inviting and serene atmosphere.
I slowly reach for my wine glass, my eyes wandering around the room, taking in its details.
Is that a clock? I think so. It resembles one, though I can't quite read it. If it works like the ones in my world, it must be nine o'clock. That would make sense—the sun has set, and the evening has fully unfolded.
I take a tentative sip of the wine, leaning back into the plush sofa. The tension in my shoulders eases. Perhaps it's the cozy surroundings or the easy flow of conversation in this tranquil space.
The wine itself isn't too bad—though its bitterness pulls a small grimace from me, one I'm sure Julian notices.
We continue talking for nearly an hour. In that time, I've come to respect Julian even more. His insights into Yumiko reveal his care for her, and I understand what he means: she does need someone to lean on, a close friend she can trust.
He's a remarkable man, and I can't help but feel there's much more to him than meets the eye.
"I think I'll head to bed now—room 13, correct?" I rise from the sofa, smoothing my clothes as I prepare to leave.
Julian swirls the wine in his glass with a practiced elegance, the crimson liquid catching the firelight. His gaze follows the motion, and a faint smile plays on his lips. "And… if you'd like some assistance," he begins, his tone laced with playful mischief.
He pauses, tilting his glass thoughtfully. "Perhaps arranging for you two to share the same room at night might… facilitate things. Of course, only if that idea appeals to you."
His voice is smooth, measured, and strangely serious, though there's an undeniable air of amusement in his words.
Caught off guard, I cough lightly, taking a step toward the door. "I'll assume you said that only because you've had a bit too much to drink, sir," I say, grasping the door handle.
Julian chuckles softly, the sound low and deliberate. "Perhaps I did. Or perhaps not," he replies enigmatically, his smile deepening as his gaze meets mine for a fleeting moment.
As I step out into the hall, his words linger in my mind. Why would he be so intent on helping me get closer to Yumiko? After all, he barely knows me.
Could it be her stubbornness? Maybe her personality has made it difficult for her to form meaningful friendships, and I'm simply the first to show genuine interest in her.
It's a question for another day—when I've gotten to know him better. For now, one thing is certain: Julian is not a man to say things without reason, even when wine is involved.
The hallway stretches ahead, dimly lit and quiet. As I walk, I glance at the doors on either side, each marked not with numbers but with strange, alien symbols that I can't begin to decipher.
Damn it. No numbers. Maybe the rooms with numbers are farther down the corridor—or reserved for bedrooms. Either way, I keep moving, my steps echoing softly against the ornate walls.
Eventually, I spot what I'm looking for: rooms labeled 10 and 11 on the opposite side. Not much farther now.
And there it is—room 13.
I push the door open, and my breath catches. The room is stunning, far beyond anything I'd imagined. Plush furnishings, intricate details, and a bed that looks like it belongs in a palace.
Walking toward the bed, I sit down and sink into its softness. "This is amazing," I murmur to myself, letting the tension of the day melt away.
Today has been… surreal. One of the best days of my life, honestly. If this is what my second chance looks like, I don't want to waste a moment.
Yet, as I lie back and stare at the ceiling, a flicker of doubt creeps in. What if I wake up tomorrow back in my old room in Japan? What if this is just a dream?
No. I won't let those fears take over. This time, I'll live my life to the fullest.
Closing my eyes, I let sleep claim me. Darkness envelops me, comforting and still—until, out of the void, stark white text emerges:
30 days left