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Chapter 31: The Pitch

  


  Chapter 31

  The Pitch

  The bar hums with a low, velvety jazz tune, the

  saxophone weaving through the dim candlelight like a whispered secret. The air

  is thick with oak-aged whiskey and sweet plum wine, warmth curling against my

  skin the moment we step inside.

  Behind the polished counter, Ruri’s smile tilts

  like she knows something I don’t. "Surprise," she says, nodding

  toward the golden banner stretched above the bar.

  Happy Retirement, Raven.

  My breath stutters.

  Beside me, Raven chuckles, her fingers brushing

  the small of my back—just enough to steady me. "Guess the secret’s

  out," she murmurs.

  O-bāchan, ever the queen of dramatics, waltzes

  over with a tray of drinks, her silver hair pinned in an elegant twist. "A

  toast to new beginnings," she declares, setting a ceramic cup in front of

  me. Steam rises, carrying the caramel-sweet scent of umeshu.

  I sink into the leather booth, its cool surface

  against my bare thighs grounding me. The first sip is smooth—honeyed warmth

  sliding down my throat. The taste of nostalgia.

  Ruri leans in, propping herself on her elbows.

  "So, what’s next?" she asks, her gaze flicking to Raven, playful but

  expectant.

  The question lingers, twisting into the sultry

  melody of the saxophone.

  Raven’s eyes find mine. Steady. Unreadable.

  I tighten my grip on my cup, the ceramic warm

  against my palm. Lifting it to my lips, I take a long sip—then another. The

  honeyed burn slides down my throat, pooling in my chest like liquid courage.

  Too fast. I know it. But I take one more anyway.

  "What’s next?" she repeats, almost to

  herself.

  "Oi," the bartender calls out, his

  British accent cutting through the moment. "Slow it down, lass. Last thing

  I need is the bloody tabloids calling this place shameless."

  The hostess laughs, smacking him on the shoulder.

  "Honey, don’t embarrass her."

  I cough, the burn catching me off guard, but I

  force a smile. A sharp little jab, but I roll with it.

  Raven’s voice pulls me back. "The truth

  is... I don’t know."

  Silence stretches.

  I blink. That’s when I realize—both she and Ruri

  are looking straight at me.

  "What?" I wipe my face. "Do I have

  something on me?"

  The clink of Moon’s glass barely registers as my

  brain short-circuits. The mischief in her eyes, the casual way she spins her

  empty glass—it all feels too orchestrated, like a magician setting up for the

  final reveal.

  “Akina,” she purrs, drawing out my name like

  she’s savoring the taste. “In truth, Ruri… well, she’s my new attorney. Or

  rather, my new legal consultant.”

  I blink, the warmth of umeshu lingering on my

  tongue. “Oh… really?”

  Moon nods, twirling the glass between her

  fingers. “Yup.”

  A beat of silence. Too easy. Too deliberate. I

  narrow my eyes. “Why?”

  She exhales, slow and deliberate, the kind of

  pause that signals incoming disaster. “I’m moving to the States. With my

  husband. And my son. He just signed a six-year contract with Worldwide

  Entertainment. And… a new opportunity has presented itself to me.”

  My fingers tighten around my cup. “Oh… that’s

  fantastic.” The words feel flimsy, like cheap wrapping paper over something

  sharp.

  Moon winks. “Oh yeah. But I’m not going alone.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Something in her tone makes my stomach drop.

  “You. Will. Be. Going. With. Me.”

  My lips part, but my brain is still buffering. “I

  see, I’m—” The full weight of her words slams into me. “I what?!”

  Ruri, ever composed, smirks from across the

  table. “We’re working on a media campaign for the new Enomoto fashion

  magazine.”

  I stiffen. “Wait, what?”

  Moon leans in, grinning. “I’m covering the sports

  department. I’ll be the face of sportswear. We just need a poster child for

  the… elegant design department. What do you say?”

  I hesitate, pulse thrumming in my ears.

  From the karaoke stage, O bāchan sways with the

  hostess, microphone in hand. She leans over, voice warm and knowing. “Don’t

  worry, honey. I’ll go with you, sweetheart, if you decide to do it.”

  Later that night, I collapse onto my bed, the

  room tilting slightly—exhaustion, umeshu, or both. The ceiling fan hums, its

  slow, rhythmic whisper slicing through the quiet. My limbs ache, my head

  buzzes, but before I can sink into the sheets, my phone rings.

  I don’t need to check the caller ID. I already

  know.

  I press the phone to my ear. “Hello.”

  Silence. Then—his voice. Sharp. Cutting.

  Disappointed.

  “You sang. In front of an audience. For free.

  Do you know what this means?”

  A chill snakes down my spine. My fingers curl

  into the blanket.

  His tone hardens, each word curling like a fist. “Tighter

  reins. A shorter leash. This defiance ends now.”

  I swallow, my throat tight and raw, as if I’ve

  swallowed glass. I don’t argue. There’s no point. I just listen. Endure. Let

  the words crash over me like cold rain.

  Then—silence.

  The call ends.

  I stare at the screen for a long moment before

  tossing the phone onto the bed. My arms feel heavy, my chest tight, but I push

  myself up. Move. Breathe. Function.

  Bad idea.

  BUUUUURP.

  Oh no.

  GAGG.

  My stomach twists, rolling like a ship caught in

  a storm. I stumble toward the bathroom, barely making it before—

  BLAAACCH.

  Damn you, umeshu.

  BLAAACCH.

  I should have listened to that British bartender.

  BLAAACCH.

  By the time the dry heaving stops, I’m shaking. I

  rinse my mouth, splash water on my face, and then—ugh. A dark splatter stains

  my shirt. Fantastic.

  Mechanically, I peel off my clothes, gathering

  the mess and stuffing it into the washing machine. The hum of rushing water

  fills the space, steady and mindless. I watch the clothes twist and churn

  behind the glass, colors bleeding into each other.

  The night replays in my mind. The laughter. The

  warmth of the bar. Moon’s teasing grin. O bāchan’s knowing smile. A different

  world, one I almost let myself belong to.

  And then—

  A tear splashes onto the back of my hand.

  I stare at it, startled. Then another falls. And

  another.

  I press my palms to my eyes, but it’s too late.

  The dam has cracked.

  I lay curled up on my bed, my head still swaying,

  the remnants of the night clinging to me like a heavy fog. My body feels

  leaden, but my mind won’t stop. Won’t quiet.

  My eyes drift to the pile of clothes from

  earlier.

  “Damn…” My voice barely scrapes the silence.

  “Should’ve thrown those in too.”

  Something peeks out from my jeans—the ones I wore

  after the photoshoot. A slip of white, barely visible in the dim light.

  I frown, reaching over to switch on the lamp. The

  glow spreads, pushing back the shadows.

  Slowly, I sit up, my limbs sluggish, and grab the

  jeans from the pile. As I lift them, a crumpled piece of paper flutters to the

  floor.

  My breath catches.

  I kneel, fingers trembling as I pick it up,

  smoothing the creased edges. My heart pounds, slow and heavy, like a drum

  echoing through an empty hall.

  The words blur before I force myself to focus. I

  read aloud, my voice barely above a whisper.

  "I can see your sadness behind your fake

  smile… Don’t forget to be happy, not for us, or the fame, but for yourself…

  Love always, your greatest fan and admirer, Kaito. PS: Please marry me!"

  A shaky breath escapes me. My fingers tighten

  around the note, pressing it to my chest.

  Right… Like… I even have a choice.

  No, wait.

  I do.

  For the first time in years, the decision is

  entirely mine. No contracts. No publicist. No expectations. Just… freedom.

  All it takes is a little sacrifice.

  I grab my phone, my pulse steady now, certain. I

  dial the number.

  It clicks.

  “Hey, big sis…” Ruri’s voice is soft, laced with

  curiosity. “Everything alright?”

  I exhale, the weight shifting, lifting.

  “When do we leave?”

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