Hina looked up at Keiichiro, unable to hide her confusion as he grabbed her wrist.
Keiichiro, too, stared back at her in silence, his brow furrowed.
His eyes, deep and gleaming like obsidian behind his glasses, threatened to pull her in—Hina hastily averted her gaze.
“Will you tend to me like you used to?”
“I no longer have that medicine.”
The blue lotus seedlings had been left planted in the Saotome family garden. If no one had been tending to them, they must have withered long ago.
“Any other medicine will do. Even if it’s less effective.”
“…We do not provide such services here.”
Hina replied in a detached, professional tone. But he wouldn’t give up.
“After work is fine.”
Did he think she would comply if it was a personal request rather than a matter between employee and guest?
Hina exhaled, letting her disappointment seep through.
“I won’t be done until late.”
“I don’t mind.”
“…It’s impossible.”
At the end of their exchange, Keiichiro narrowed his eyes slightly and lowered his voice.
“…I am the head of the Saotome family. I can force you back if I must.”
His voice hovered between a threat and a plea. Hina fell silent.
If she thought of Keito, her son, she couldn’t return to the Saotome household. The mistress would never allow it. And if, by some chance, she encountered someone from the Shinomiya family—
Resigned, Hina slowly nodded.
That night, after putting Keito to bed, Hina took her medicine box and visited Keiichiro’s room.
“Excuse me.”
Sliding the door open with a quiet voice, she found Keiichiro sitting formally in seiza atop a spread-out futon. Seeing him in a yukata—when he usually wore Western attire—made her eyes widen slightly.
This was the first time she had seen Keiichiro in traditional Japanese clothing. The sight of him like this made her heart skip.
Without a word, Keiichiro removed the upper half of his yukata and slowly turned his back to her.
The old scar carved into his back—unchanged from all those years ago—still stretched across his skin.
Silently, Hina took out the over-the-counter ointment and began gently applying it to the wound.
His broad, sturdy back, its warmth, and the distance of not being able to see his face.
Suddenly, an improper thought flickered through her mind.
—If only she could entrust everything to this back.
Shaking her head to dispel the sweet illusion, she snapped back to reality.
“…Why did you leave?”
The low voice came suddenly from behind his back.
Hina’s hands froze.
“I thought… I would be a burden to you.”
“Don’t lie. …My mother drove you out, didn’t she?”
“No. I left of my own—”
Before she could finish, the words died in her throat.
Even if Kiyoe hadn’t been angry enough to cast her out, Shinomiya would never have allowed her to stay.
—Either way, she could never have remained in the Saotome household.
Her gaze wavered. Before she knew it, Keiichiro was watching her intently.
Then, he exhaled deeply.
“…At first, it was pity. I took you in out of kindness, thinking it was what you wanted. But after you were gone… my old wounds began aching again. Only the pain remained.”
The faint scent of medicine lingered in the air.
It was a fragrance that only unsettled her heart further.
“When I saw you in the market, I thought it was an illusion. That you had run away, that it had all been a dream— But when we met again here, something else… ached even more.”
Hina lowered her face.
—I shouldn’t be here.
She repeated it in her mind over and over, yet her heart was being pulled in the opposite direction.
And the moment Keiichiro’s hand gently touched her cheek, the thread of her reason loosened.
She should have run, but her body wouldn’t move.
“…Please stop. I’m just an employee.”
Her voice was hoarse—a small, final resistance mustered by her rationality.
Yet, even she felt the contradiction in those words.
Perhaps she didn’t truly want to refuse. Perhaps she was only searching for a reason to resist.
“If that’s what you want to believe… fine. But I can’t hide my feelings anymore.”
His voice carried an intensity she had never heard before.
The boundaries of roles and status vanished, leaving only a man before her.
It was clear—Keiichiro was looking at her, just her, as a woman.
(Don’t look at me like that…)
Unable to bear the heat in his gaze, Hina instinctively turned away.
In that instant, Keiichiro took her wrist and effortlessly lowered her onto the futon.
Her loosely tied hair spilled over her shoulders.
Her slender wrists crossed above her head, restrained by a single hand.
Unlike that night long ago, his movements were more forceful, more dominant.
With a trembling voice, she tried to push him away.
“N-no… stop. You have a fiancée—”
“An arrangement by my parents. My heart isn’t in it.”
As Hina tried to turn her face away, Keiichiro whispered softly against her ear.
“I fulfilled your wish back then. …Now, it’s your turn to fulfill mine.”
It should have been over.
That night, she had resolved to give herself to him just once and never again.
Not because she loved anyone, not because she had been desired.
Shinomiya Masumi—she simply hadn’t wanted to marry that man.
That was the only reason she had clung to Keiichiro.
Respect, gratitude, a faint trace of longing—yes, they had existed.
But what had driven her then wasn’t “love.” It was “fear.”
If she had stayed, her heart would have shattered—she had even sensed that much.
So, that hadn’t been “love.”
It had been her own selfishness.
And she had resolved to bear the consequences alone.
This must be her punishment. She thought Keiichiro was angry at her for running away.
His fingers carelessly loosened the ties of her work robe.
The garment, meant for her duties at the inn, was easily undone by his hands.
When the binding cloth tightening her chest beneath her undergarments was exposed, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“Tied up like this… Let me ease you.”
His murmur hovered between resignation and temptation as his fingers hooked onto the edge of the cloth.
Then, in one swift motion, he unraveled it.