That night, Hina had left Keito in the care of the innkeeper and visited the Camellia Room to speak with Keiichiro.
But now, he was nowhere to be seen. Hina stood alone by the window, the shoji screens wide open.
Outside, the heavy curtain of night had fallen.
The seasonal clouds were thick, obscuring even the starlight. Yet through the gaps, faint glimmers peeked through, flickering ephemerally.
(…Why did things have to turn out like this?)
Shinomiya had appeared, thrusting that article in their faces.
The sound of all the days they’d built together crumbling away seemed to echo around her.
Would it have been better if she hadn’t crossed that line with Keiichiro that night?
But she quickly shook off the thought.
No.
(I don’t regret that night.)
Even if this was the price to pay, she could never erase from her life the moment Keito had been born.
It had been terrifying. There were days she’d felt utterly lost.
But she’d resolved to raise him alone. Above all, Hina loved Keito with all her heart.
Still, perhaps she should have been more cautious.
Seeing how the boy had grown attached to Keiichiro had made her let her guard down.
Perhaps she shouldn’t have let him get close.
…And yet.
(I’ve decided I won’t run away anymore—)
She needed to think calmly about what to do next.
Maybe she should stop letting the boy visit Keiichiro for a while…
As she gazed at the sky, lost in thought, the sound of a sliding door opening came from behind.
Turning, she saw Keiichiro returning, his expression tense.
“Sorry for leaving you alone. I was calling a journalist I know.”
With those words, Keiichiro sat down across from Hina.
His gaze was unwavering. It was clear he’d already begun planning their next move.
“Most likely, we won’t be able to stop that article from being published. But I intend to do everything in my power.”
There was no trace of panic or frustration in his profile.
“Once the article comes out, I’ll hold a press conference immediately. I’ll apologize and, if necessary, clearly explain any discrepancies.”
Keiichiro’s words were calm.
But Hina knew all too well the resolve they carried.
“…Do you think the public will believe you?”
Her voice came out more hoarse than she’d expected.
The unease wouldn’t fade. Public opinion could sometimes be swayed more by headlines than truth.
Keiichiro placed a hand on Hina’s shoulder and nodded slowly.
“I don’t know if they’ll believe me. But I’ll show them my sincerity. It’s all I can do.”
His straightforward response made her chest burn with warmth.
Here was a man who would face the storm head-on.
Who sought to protect not just her, but Keito and Yunoya Inn as well.
That resolve struck Hina deeply.
Which was why it hurt all the more.
That night, she was glad she’d chosen him as the one to run to—yet at the same time, the thought that he now bore the consequences of that choice weighed heavily on her heart.
“I’m… so sorry…”
Before she knew it, the trembling words had escaped her lips.
“Why are you apologizing?”
Though Keiichiro’s voice was steady, to Hina, it almost sounded like a reprimand.
“…Because of me, you’re—”
The moment she spoke, looking down, her chest tightened painfully.
But in that instant, Keiichiro’s arms reached out and enveloped her.
“No.”
The warmth of his embrace was startling.
The hand on her back held no hesitation or confusion.
“I take responsibility for the path I’ve chosen. …So don’t worry.”
His firm words seeped slowly into the frozen depths of her heart.
Tears welled naturally in Hina’s eyes.
“But… like this, your position—”
“Position doesn’t matter.”
Not a trace of doubt colored his words.
Keiichiro took Hina’s hand, layering warmth upon warmth.
“I don’t regret holding you that night.”
Hina couldn’t look away from the directness of his gaze.
“Hina. What about you?”
The question caught in her throat. But the answer had always been in her heart.
“I… don’t regret it either. You, Keito… you’re both precious to me.”
A single tear traced her cheek before falling.
But it wasn’t a tear of despair.
Keiichiro exhaled faintly and wrapped his hands around hers once more.
“Me too, Hina… I will protect you both. So trust me.”
His voice carried the weight of a vow.
Hina bit her lip and nodded slowly.
“…Yes.”
A night breeze drifted in through the window.
Hina’s hair swayed, carrying the faint scent of camellias.
A new storm was nearly upon them.
But for now, she wanted to believe in Keiichiro’s words and weather it together.
＊
Several weeks later—
The latest issue of the women’s weekly magazine Teito Fujinpo bore a striking headline:
[Secret Rendezvous Exposed? Hot Spring Inn Mistress and Viscount’s Heir]
[Broken Engagement and Immediate Exile! The Shinomiya Family Speaks on “Betrayal”]
In the cafés, hair salons, and girls’ school dormitories of the capital—
The topic was on everyone’s lips.
“My, to think she was with another man right after her arranged meeting?”
“And with a child, no less. An unwed mother—what a scandal!”
“Poor Lord Shinomiya. It’s as if he was trampled upon, don’t you think?”
Amidst the whispers, sweet pastries were nibbled and tea sipped.
Behind the plausible sympathy lurked curiosity and morbid fascination.
And the one playing the “pitiful victim” was none other than Shinomiya himself.
“She was already involved with another man during our courtship… Truly, the audacity knows no bounds.”
His tone remained composed, yet his words carried a deftly concealed venom.
“Saotome Keiichiro—that man has disgraced his family name. To father a child with a commoner and then cast her aside… Bloodline must never be disregarded.”
Shinomiya made frequent visits to newspaper offices, regaling journalists with his tales over cigarettes, all the while maintaining the air of a perfect gentleman.
But though the reporters nodded along, inwardly, they were half-exasperated.
“…Good grief, here he goes again.”
“And yet he turns a blind eye to his own misdeeds…”
Upper-class scandals were prime fodder for readers’ interest.
While the article itself was inevitable, Shinomiya’s self-justification was almost embarrassing to witness.
“Ah well, it’s just a passing storm. Once the next scandal hits, no one will remember this.”
Someone’s muttered words hung in the air like smoke.