At this moment, Kanjuro was walking side by side with Suzuki Ayako through the departing crowd, seemingly enjoying a warm time for two. However, within his keen perception, he captured movement in an inconspicuous corner not far away.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Yoko Okino, who had just finished removing her makeup and was preparing to leave through a special passage accompanied by several assistants, seemingly being faintly followed by men in black suits who looked suspicious. Those men had flickering gazes and acted stealthily, not like normal fans or staff.
He didn't take action immediately, nor did he show any abnormality.
Just like a perfect date partner, he continued to talk with Suzuki Ayako about the interesting details of the concert and plan the next itinerary, as if he hadn't noticed the potential crisis at all.
(The "hero saving the beauty" act is enough once. Being too eager would instead seem intentional.)
(Besides... letting the prey stay in panic for a while longer, and appearing when she is most desperate, isn't that more interesting?)
He tilted his head with a smile, listening to Ayako's soft words about her love for the lyrical song from earlier, while his mind calmly calculated the timing.
The fangs in the darkness had already been bared, and the new prey seemed to be walking ignorantly, step by step, into the center of the web he had woven. Salvation and destruction were but two sides of the same coin in his hands.
The night grew deeper, and the clamor of the concert had already dissipated, leaving only the dim yellow streetlights and sparse traffic. Kanjuro escorted Suzuki Ayako to a quiet street corner near her home, where tall trees cast mottled shadows, enveloping their figures.
The atmosphere became somewhat subtle in the silence, carrying the reluctance before parting and the tremors after everything they had just experienced. Ayako lowered her head slightly, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her clothes, her heart filled with confusion about the future and complex emotions for the man beside her.
At that moment, Kanjuro stopped walking.
He turned around to face her, his deep gaze appearing exceptionally focused in the night. He didn't speak, but simply reached out and gently cupped her cheeks. His fingertips carried a slight coolness, yet they made Ayako's cheeks instantly burn hot.
"Ayako," he called out softly, his voice deep and magnetic.
Ayako's heart pounded wildly, as if it were about to burst through her chest. She saw him slowly lower his head, that peerlessly handsome face enlarging before her eyes, his warm breath brushing against her skin.
A gentle kiss, tentative yet incredibly firm, landed on her lips.
"—!"
Ayako's whole body trembled violently, as if hit by a subtle electric current. Her mind went blank, and all thoughts came to a halt at this moment. This kiss wasn't deep, and even carried a sense of cherishing, yet it set off a massive wave in her heart.
After the kiss ended, Kanjuro pulled back slightly, but still held her face, his gaze burning as he stared at the surging emotions in her eyes.
Ayako came back to her senses, her cheeks crimson, her eyes filled with disbelief and a hint of panic. "Mr. Kanjuro... can we... can we really?" Her voice was trembling, with both sweet dizziness and heavy concerns about reality. "You are... and on Tomizawa Yuzo's side... I'm worried that because of me, you will completely offend the Suzuki Family and the Tomizawa Family... That's too dangerous..."
Her words were filled with concern for him.
Hearing this, Kanjuro smiled. That smile was no longer the gentle disguise of daily life, but carried a kind of almost arrogant, categorical decisiveness. His thumb gently stroked her cheek, his tone incredibly serious, every word seemingly carrying the weight of a thousand pounds:
"Silly girl, don't worry about those things."
"For you, what if I betray the whole world?"
These words were like the most intense confession and the most insane declaration of war, instantly shattering all the hesitation and fear in Ayako's heart. She stared at him blankly, seeing the unquestionable determination in his eyes and the madness of being an enemy of the world for her sake. Her tears instantly broke through, surging out.
It was moved, it was shock, it was the release after finding a reliance sufficient to entrust everything to.
"Kanjuro..." she choked out, nodding vigorously as if using all her strength, "I believe you!"
She tightly grabbed his sleeve, as if grabbing a lifeline, and completely handed over her heart.
"I... I can also give up everything for you!" She looked up with her tear-stained face, her gaze obsessed and resolute. "If you need it, I can leave with you at any time, giving up everything of the Suzuki Family! If... if you feel I'm a burden, are afraid, and want me to leave... I... I won't pester you..."
Her words carried a desperate humility and deep affection, placing herself in the dust and letting him decide whether she stayed or left.
Looking at this gentle woman who cried and laughed for him, willing to abandon everything for him, a tiny, undetectable ripple seemed to touch the cold calculation in Kanjuro's heart. He reached out and gently wiped away the tears on her face, his movements as soft as if he were treating a rare treasure.
"Don't talk nonsense." His voice carried a reassuring magic. "How could I be afraid? And how could I let you leave?"
He cupped her face, his forehead gently resting against hers, their breaths mingling.
"You are the light I accidentally glimpsed in my dark world," he said softly, his words like the most moving love poem, yet carrying a hint of irony that only he understood. "I will only hold on tight; how could I let go?"
He paused, his tone suddenly becoming light and teasing, as if describing a romantic adventure:
"Go back for now, don't think too much. If... if those old fogies really push too hard, and it really comes down to it..."
He leaned close to her ear and whispered in a smiling tone:
"We'll find a time to elope. Just the two of us, going to a place where no one can find us. How about that?"
This bold and romantic proposal was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, instantly dispersing the last of the gloom in Ayako's heart. She broke into a smile through her tears, couldn't help but giggle, and lightly punched his chest.
"Stop it! Who wants to elope with you!" Despite her words, her eyes sparkled with bright light, filled with longing for that "place where no one can find us."
In her view, Kanjuro's lack of fear for power and his willingness to plan such a romantic escape for her was undoubtedly a sign of his deep love. He was truly too good, so good that her current happiness felt like a dream.
"Go back quickly, it's late." Kanjuro rubbed her hair, his tone doting.
"Mhm!" Ayako nodded vigorously, her face overflowing with a happy flush. She looked back every few steps as she walked toward her home, until her figure disappeared behind the Mansion's gate.
Looking at the closed gate, the gentle smile on Kanjuro's face receded like a tide, replaced by his habitual coldness and depth.
(Light? Heh...)
(Just another... lamp about to be taken into the dark collection.)
He turned and blended into the deeper night, as if that affectionate and touching scene just now had never happened. Only the faint fragrance remaining in the air proved that the kiss and the vow of "betraying the whole world for you" had truly existed. After the deliberately crafted warm farewell to Suzuki Ayako, the softness on Kanjuro's face vanished instantly, like a mask being stripped away. Without any lingering attachment, he turned and walked in the opposite direction from which he came—toward the direction where Yoko Okino's apartment was located, which he had already learned through certain "channels."
The night was thick, and the high-end residential area was much quieter than the concert venue. Only the streetlights cast long, lonely shadows on the ground. Kanjuro's pace was steady and unhurried, like a predator in the dark night, precise and patient.
Sure enough, before long, a black nanny van drove up silently and stopped under an apartment building not far away. The door opened, and Yoko Okino, with her stage makeup removed, wearing simple casual clothes and looking visibly exhausted, stepped out accompanied by her assistant. The assistant gave a few simple instructions and drove away, clearly believing it was safe now that she had reached the apartment building.
Yoko rubbed her slightly swollen temples and took a deep breath of the cool night air. Just as she was about to turn and enter the apartment lobby, she caught a glimpse of a tall, slender figure standing under a streetlight from the corner of her eye.
She was slightly startled, and as she looked closer, a look of surprise immediately appeared on her face.
"Mr... Mr. Kanjuro?" she called out uncertainly, her tone carrying a hint of pleasant surprise and confusion. "What are you doing here?"
Kanjuro stepped slowly out of the shadows, the light from the streetlight outlining the perfect profile of his face. He didn't answer immediately; instead, he frowned slightly and swept his sharp gaze across the dark corners behind Yoko, as if confirming something. Then, he let his gaze fall back on her, his lips curling into a faint, somewhat helpless smile.
"Miss Yoko," he nodded slightly as a greeting, and then got straight to the point in a calm tone. "I noticed that someone seems to be following you. It's been going on since the concert ended—and of course, it wasn't me."
He stated his purpose directly, with an openness that was unexpected.
Yoko Okino was startled at first and instinctively looked back, but the empty street revealed nothing unusual. She turned back and looked at Kanjuro's handsome face, which appeared exceptionally serious under the light. For some reason, a playful thought suddenly occurred to her; perhaps his image from saving the day earlier tonight was so profound that it made her less guarded. She tilted her head and said in a teasing tone:
"Eh? The person following me... it couldn't be you, Mr. Kanjuro, could it?"
Hearing this, Kanjuro laughed out loud, his laughter deep and pleasant. Instead of being angry, he took a small step forward, closing the distance slightly. His deep eyes sparkled with an ambiguous light in the night as he looked straight at her, his tone carrying a hint of playfulness:
"Oh? So... Miss Yoko likes this kind of 'mood'?"
These words carried obvious ambiguity and flirtation, a far cry from his steady image when saving the stage earlier.
The smile on Yoko Okino's face froze instantly, followed by a flush of irritation. She took half a step back, her brow furrowed, and her tone became somewhat serious and displeased: "Mr. Kanjuro! Although I am very grateful for your help earlier, please don't be so frivolous! This is not funny!"
Seeing her take a defensive stance like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, the playful smile on Kanjuro's face faded. He sighed softly, a sigh that seemed to carry a hint of helpless misunderstanding, and his eyes became serious and focused again, even carrying a kind of... near-tender concern.
"Frivolous?" He repeated the word, shaking his head. "Miss Yoko, you've misunderstood."
His gaze swept over the darkness behind her once more, his voice low and clear:
"I didn't show up here to make some boring jokes."
"I'm here to protect you."
His tone was decisive, devoid of any flippancy, possessing only an unquestionable certainty. It was as if protecting her was something natural and something that had to be done by him.
This sudden change, along with the heavy seriousness in his words, caused Yoko Okino's indignation to stall instantly, turning into a daze. She looked into his deep eyes, where the emotions were complex and difficult to discern—there was concern, alertness, and a kind of... determination she couldn't understand.
(Protect... me?)
He wasn't joking?
Could it be... someone really is following me?
A chill crawled up her spine, making her instinctively move a little closer to Kanjuro, as if being near him could provide some sense of security. In the night, the two of them stood under the apartment building, the atmosphere becoming subtle and tense. The tension brought by Kanjuro's words, "I'm here to protect you," flowed subtly between them. Yoko Okino looked at his serious eyes, her defensiveness and curiosity intertwining. Following Kanjuro's gaze, she also looked up at the towering apartment building where she lived; in the night, those familiar windows seemed to carry a hint of uncertain danger.
"So," Kanjuro withdrew his gaze and looked back at her, his tone flat and natural, as if discussing the weather, "shall I escort you upstairs? To confirm you enter your home safely."
Hearing this, Yoko deliberately put on a stern face and glanced at him with a hint of coquettishness, though her words carried a testing tone she hadn't even noticed herself: "Mr. Kanjuro says that... why does it feel more like you want to do something unspeakable to me?" Having experienced the stage scare, she indeed felt less of the complete defensiveness one has toward a stranger for this "savior," and instead felt a bit of closeness she couldn't explain herself... Kanjuro laughed out loud, a laugh that seemed a bit wicked under the streetlights. Instead of denying it, he followed her lead, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice, asking back with a seductive magnetism: "If that's what you hope in your heart... I can, of course, 'do' something to you."
These words were bold and ambiguous, almost making a certain possibility explicit. Yoko Okino's cheeks flushed instantly, and her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected Kanjuro to take the bait so directly, which caught her a bit off guard. But strangely, she didn't feel offended; instead, she felt... a bit of a thrill?
She took a deep breath, as if having made a decision, and raised her chin, revealing a smile with a hint of challenge: "Fine, then I'll take a gamble." Her eyes were bright as she looked at Kanjuro, "I'll bet that Mr. Kanjuro is a truly reliable gentleman."
Seeing her look of feigned composure and unconcealed nervousness, the smile in Kanjuro's eyes deepened. He didn't immediately respond to this "bet," but suddenly remembered something and corrected her with a hint of playfulness: "By the way, Miss Yoko, you called me 'Mr. Kanjuro' just now, right?" He pointed at himself, a mischievous expression between that of a boy and a man appearing on his face, "Just a reminder, I'm only eighteen. I should be a few years younger than you, Miss Yoko. Doesn't calling me 'Mr.' make me sound old?"
"Ah!" Yoko Okino only then realized it belatedly and couldn't help but cover her mouth and laugh. The previous tension dissipated quite a bit. "Sorry, sorry! Because Kanjuro... well, you really give off a very mature and steady feeling. Your words and actions carry a reassuring, gentle aura, not at all like the reckless immaturity of an ordinary high school student. I unconsciously treated you as an adult and completely ignored your age!"
Her words carried sincere praise and a hint of embarrassment. The steadiness and sense of mystery Kanjuro possessed that transcended his age were indeed very deceptive.
Kanjuro was noncommittal about her praise, only smiling slightly as he brought the topic back on track: "So, is the bet in effect? Let this 'reliable eighteen-year-old' escort you, the national idol, home safely?"
Yoko Okino looked at his outstretched hand, making a "please" gesture that was elegant and impeccable. The scales in her heart had already tipped; the fear caused by the possibility of being followed seemed no longer as important in the face of her curiosity and trust in this mysterious youth before her.
"Alright," she nodded, her face once again blooming with the bright smile of an idol, with a bit of playfulness, "then I'll have to trouble you, my 'reliable' escort." This time, she deliberately emphasized the word "reliable," as if highlighting their tacit bet.
The two walked side by side toward the apartment lobby, the lights stretching their shadows and intertwining them. Kanjuro stayed half a step behind, seemingly casual, but his gaze was like the most precise radar, scanning the surroundings for any possible movement. Meanwhile, Yoko Okino walked by his side, feeling that silent protection, her heart filled with mixed emotions—both the relief of surviving a disaster and a growing, intense curiosity about the enigmatic youth beside her.
This journey that began with "protection" seemed to have an end point far beyond the apartment door.
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