The guest house of Dr. Takshi felt like a sanctuary, a world away from the cold marble and suffocating grief of the Takahashi Mansion. Inside, the air smelled of antiseptic and morning sunlight.
Yumi stood at the door for a moment, adjusting her coat. She had spent the early morning dropping her children off at her mother's house. She didn't want them to see the shadows under her eyes or hear the phone calls she knew were coming. For the first time in years, she wasn't just a mother or a daughter-in-law; she was a woman on a mission.
She stepped inside, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor.
"She just woke up again," the Nurse whispered, meeting Yumi in the hallway. "Her vitals are stable, but she's... she's asking questions, Mrs. Yumi. She knows something is being kept from her."
Yumi nodded, her face softening. "I'll handle it. Thank you for staying with her."
When Yumi entered the room, she saw Naea. The girl looked like a porcelain doll that had been shattered and glued back together—pale, fragile, but undeniably alive. Naea's eyes, large and filled with an instinctive fear, snapped to the door.
"Y-Yumi?" Naea's voice was a ragged breath.
"I'm here, Naea," Yumi said, rushing to the bedside and taking Naea's cold hand in hers. "I'm right here. You're safe."
The clock on the wall of the guest house ticked steadily toward 03:00 PM.
Inside the room, the atmosphere was deceptive. The golden afternoon light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft glow over Naea's bed. Yumi sat beside her, her fingers tracing the edge of the white linens. She had been watching Naea for hours, checking her temperature, offering sips of water, and trying to keep her own racing heart from being heard.
"How are you feeling now, Naea?" Yumi asked softly. "Is the nausea fading?"
Naea managed a small, tired nod. "A little.
Before Yumi could manufacture another careful lie, her phone erupted into a loud, jarring vibration. The name on the screen made her breath hitch: Yamato.
"I have to take this," Yumi whispered, her eyes momentarily locking with Naea's suspicious gaze. "Rest for a moment."
She stepped toward the far corner of the room, turning her back to the bed. "Yamato? What's happened?"
"Yumi, are you sitting down?" Yamato's voice was frantic, breathless. "The Osaka Central Police just released a preliminary report. They have Mr. Sato's killer in custody. He was handed over this morning."
Yumi felt the blood drain from her face. She looked over her shoulder at Naea, who was watching her with growing anxiety. Yumi gripped the phone tighter and lowered her voice to a jagged whisper. "What did he say?"
"He confessed to everything, Yumi. He said he didn't act alone. He testified that he pulled the trigger on Naea's father under the direct orders of Kenji Takahashi."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Yumi felt a wave of nausea hit her. Kenji. The man Naea called her husband. He wasn't just a bystander; he was the executioner of Naea's happiness.
"Yumi?" Naea's voice came from the bed, thin and trembling. "Yumi, what is it?
Yumi quickly turned her face away, her eyes burning with unshed tears. She spoke into the phone one last time, her voice cold with resolve. "Keep the news cycle away from this room, Yamato. Do not let a single reporter near this house. If Naea finds out her husband murdered her father while she is in this state... it will kill her."
She hung up and took a trembling breath, forcing her features into a mask of calm before turning back to the bed. But as she looked at Naea's innocent, searching eyes, Yumi knew the truth was a ticking time bomb—and the fuse had already been lit in Osaka.
3:15 PM.
The fragile peace of the room was shattered by a sharp, rhythmic ring. Naea reached out, her fingers trembling as she grabbed her phone. The caller ID flashed a name that made her heart skip: Iyuzi.
"Iyuzi?" Naea whispered, her voice thick with sudden dread.
The response was a jagged, sobbing breath that seemed to vibrate through the phone. "Naea... oh god, Naea..." Iyuzi's voice was broken, a sound of pure, unadulterated grief.
"Iyuzi, talk to me! What happened? Why are you crying like this?" Naea's adrenaline surged, her own physical weakness momentarily forgotten as she gripped the phone.
"The news... turn on the TV, Naea," Iyuzi gasped, her voice cracking. "They've found him. They've found the man who... who took Dad from us."
With a shaking hand, Naea fumbled for the remote. Beside her, Yumi froze, her eyes widening as the screen flickered to life.
[LIVE FROM OSAKA CENTRAL POLICE HEADQUARTERS]
A grim-faced police officer stood behind a forest of microphones. Flashbulbs strobed like a thunderstorm.
"...confirm that the suspect in the shooting of Mr. Sato has been apprehended in Osaka," the officer declared.
A reporter shouted: "Who was behind the hit? Was it a business rival?"
The officer adjusted his glasses, his voice echoing through the hospital room. "The suspect has provided a full confession. He testified that he was hired to eliminate the victim under the direct orders of Mr. Kenji Takahashi."
Naea felt the world go silent. The name Kenji felt like a physical weight crushing her chest. Her husband. The man who had promised to protect her was the architect of her father's murder.
"How was this solved?" another journalist yelled. "Tokyo had no leads!"
"The case was built by a lead member of the Prosecution team," the officer replied. "She conducted an independent investigation and delivered the suspect to us this morning. However... we have been informed that as of today, she has officially resigned from her profession."
The room went cold. "Resigned? What is her name?"
The officer took a deep breath. "Her name is Akira Mijutsi."
The moment the name left his lips, Naea's heart monitor began to beep frantically. Akira. Her sister-figure. Her guardian. Akira had thrown away her entire life—her badge, her career, her pride—just to bring Naea the truth.
"Where is she now?" a reporter pressed.
"We don't know," the officer admitted. "She didn't come herself. It was her junior who finalized the handover. Akira Mijutsi has... vanished."after hearing this .
Naea looked at Yumi, her eyes flooded with an agonizing mixture of grief and little love.
The room was suffocating. The voice of the news anchor still seemed to vibrate in the air even after Yumi lunged for the remote, snapping the screen into a merciful black void.
"Naea, listen to me," Yumi said, her voice trembling as she rushed to the bedside. "The killer is caught. Justice is finally moving. The Takahashi Empire... the trust, the name, the power—it's all crumbling. Kenji is paying for his karma."
Yumi waited for a scream, a sob, or even a collapse. But Naea did nothing. She sat perfectly still, her eyes fixed on a stray ray of light hitting the floor. When she finally spoke, her voice wasn't the voice of the fragile girl who had arrived at the hospital. It was hollow, steady, and terrifyingly calm.
"I lived with him, Yumi," Naea whispered, her gaze never shifting. "I lived in the same house as the man who ripped my father away from me. I spent my night praying for his recovery... wishing for him to wake up."
She let out a short, dry breath that wasn't quite a laugh.
"But I don't want him to wake up anymore. I don't want him to breathe the same air as my father's memory. I don't want him to live."
Yumi felt a shiver run down her spine. She reached out, covering Naea's cold hand with hers. "He isn't truly living, Naea. That is his curse. Kenji is trapped in a coma—a living corpse. He can't speak, he can't move, and now, he can't even hide from the crimes he committed. He is a prisoner in his own body."
Before Naea could respond, the door creaked open. The Nurse stepped in, her expression professional yet softened by pity as she looked at the two women.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," the Nurse said gently, moving toward the IV stand. "But the stress levels are peaking. It's time for your medication and rest, Naea. You've endured enough for one afternoon."
Naea didn't argue. She allowed the Nurse to help her lie back down, her eyes closing as the sedative began to pull her into a dark, dreamless sleep. But as the room fell into silence, one thought remained burned into her mind: The man who loved her was a murderer, and the woman who loved her was a ghost.