Chapter 5

"You must never show people that we are weak, child."

Kiyoko blinked away the tears in her eyes and stood in front of her brother who cowered behind her. There would be no one else to do this but her as the housekeepers stayed to the edge of the room knowing better than to interfere with the drama of the household. Everyone signed a non-disclosure to work in this mansion and could not run to the press without a hefty fee to pay.

"This isn't weak. He is not a weakness," she sputtered with her body shaking like a leaf. The girl could hardly keep herself together as she stood against her grandmother, the matriarch of the family. "How could you do this to your own family?" the young teen screamed.

The grandmother rolled her eyes. "He isn't going to die, he'll just be sent away until people stop snooping around the family lineage with the goose chase your aunt has sent the press on."

"Where will he go?" Kiyoko stood up a little taller. She had never defied an elder, if ever. Like any child, they were taught to obey. Kiyoko heard stories of her grandmother from the housekeepers. From whispers of her classmates. Kiyoko never knew how her mother died, only that her grandmother had been linked to her death. The sister would never let her brother reach the same fate, not if she could help it.

"The less you know the better," the grandmother narrowed her eyes.

"You cannot forcibly take him," Kiyoko challenged. "He won't come with you." She let her brother grip tightly on her arm. He now towered over her given that he was a few years older. Kiyoko had not reached a growth spurt, not at this point in time.

"Haruma," the grandmother called for the boy. "Come along now, we don't have all day," the grandparent huffed. "Come before I make you."

The grandson shook his head vehemently, obviously terrified. He was not one for words.

"He made his choice," Kiyoko mirrored the same look that her grandmother gave. The same eyes she would grow to use upon everyone else that defied her later on in life. "I'll call the police."

"You troublesome brat, what do you even know about calling the authorities?"

The sudden stinging of her cheek had woken her up with the sound of her blaring alarm. 7 AM sharp. Was it even a dream? It was truly an absurdly vivid memory from childhood that replayed while she slept. It had been over a decade now – the time Haru was sent away into the cottage for what was meant to be a temporary stay in her teenage years. Her aunt had tried to blow the whistle on the secret mentally deranged heir of the household but to no avail, there was no evidence of such a thing no matter what people tried to investigate. It was better for the entire family – the only chance they got at redemption was their youngest Hibayashi.

Kiyoko worried for her brother knowing the kind of special care that he needed. She was allowed to call him every week without any guarantee of her brother ever wanting to speak with her. Eventually, she was able to visit him every few weeks. Her brother acclimatized to the surroundings, now refusing to leave the place instead. The woods became his safe haven. His home – exactly what her grandmother had wanted. Out of sight, out of mind, out of the family's hair forever.

She woke to a headache that formed at the back of her head. Coffee. She needed coffee. There was no time for this. Kiyoko looked at her phone for her calendar.

9 AM meeting with contractors. 11 AM call with Jihyun, an upcoming artist that had shown interest in letting Kiyoko represent her. 2 PM showing of a property she was interested in. After that, her afternoon was free, which only meant she would stop by the gallery to see how it was going. Nami sent daily emails. Texts only if urgent. There were less texts from Nami and more emails about real estate deals that flooded her inbox.

She wondered why that memory replayed so vividly. Even on her morning drive, her mind wandered to those years without Haru. Her childhood was lonely, though at the very least, the siblings had each other. She had fond memories watching her brother paint while she would read on the couch during their afternoons together. Chasing each other through the gardens, playing their own game of hide and seek. Having picnics in their gardens or watching the stars during the summer months. Haru did not speak much or understood much else beyond the numbers that he could comprehend. He spoke in other ways – his art. Kiyoko took many years to learn of it. But her teenage years grew even lonelier, and her only solace became the words of her textbooks or works of fiction they studied. Her private tutoring sessions became more boring, her brain never quite stimulated by anything besides analyzing literature.

It made her feel something. To empathize with the characters on the pages of her book, to live vicariously through them all to escape her mundane life of passive aggressive taunts from classmates or the twisted terrors of her own family at home. Kiyoko was never one to write, never having enough confidence to bring the characters in her mind to life. She forcibly became a writer during her university years, attempting to become a writer herself – to learn to create the same stories she had grown up reading. It was her first passion and really, her only passion.

It didn't last very long having found herself in the disposition she was in – an art curator instead of a full-time writer. Kiyoko was more of an art curator slash real estate developer, purely out of its ability to keep her independent from the family funds. Writing became more of a past-time, if she had any to begin with.

Kiyoko stepped into her gallery, her heels clacking against the hardwood floor as if announcing her presence. Visitors tilted their heads at the new guest before returning back to the exhibit quietly. Nami quickly arrived to greet her boss at the foyer with her tablet.

"How was your day?" the assistant was cheerful. Kiyoko was not.

"Busy," the boss answered as she glanced around the hall. The space was emptier than she remembered it to be. But the exhibit had been running for the past two months – it was expected by now. "Where's the Kjorfell?"
"It was sold two weeks ago. We just got it shipped to the new owner this morning," Nami explained. "That was a 9 grand sale."

Kiyoko shrugged. "Anything else?" The woman looked around to spot some more empty spaces. She would run the numbers later tonight to see how the sales were really doing. Hopefully well enough to give Nami a well-deserved bonus.

"No," Nami shook her head. "I have a private showing at 4:15," the assistant reminded.
"Alright," Kiyoko nodded in approval. She turned her heel to leave the girl so she could pull up the finances of the month on her laptop at her makeshift office in the back. Nami's arm stopped her from moving in that direction. Her grip was tighter than expected, immediately notifying the woman that something was not entirely right.

"Someone's here," she whispered lowly. She planted a smile over her face, pretending all was well in front of the patrons who walked past them. "She says she's your aunt."
The boss paused before answering her assistant with a raised eyebrow. "Is she now?" It was obvious that the woman was not entirely amused by the visit of the relative, if that were even the case.

"She claims to be," Nami clarified. "She's asking for a discount."
Kiyoko scoffed. What a fucking embarrassment to the family to have to bargain for art at a high-class facility. "This isn't the marketplace to bargain. Call security if she persists, we are not here for those who make a scene," she reminded with a clipped tone.

"But she's your aunt," the assistant was hesitant.
"So?" the boss rolled her eyes. "I'm too busy to deal with this," Kiyoko brushed off. "I can call security for you if you—"
"No, it's fine," Nami insisted. "I can handle this. Sorry, I just thought you should know."

Kiyoko nodded in understanding. "Fair. I'll be off then. Will you be alright?"
"Oh yes," the assistant assured. "The private showing in an hour will be the last of it today."

Kiyoko put her sunglasses back on and hurried out of the building, hastily walking to her car after a long day. She decided against staying at the gallery and hurriedly escaped instead. She settled into the driver's seat with a sigh and looked around her surroundings before deeming it safe. The woman dialled a number she rarely ever did by choice. It took two tries and 10 rings.

"She's snooping," Kiyoko gritted through her teeth, cutting to the chase when the call was finally picked up.

"Who?" the granddaughter felt like she could hear the rolling of her grandmother's eyes. The older woman had zero patience for anything that did not pertain to the family business or the reputation. At the very least, Kiyoko called about both of those things at once and never would willingly call otherwise.

"Asami is apparently at my gallery," Kiyoko informed. "I thought she had strict rules to stay away."
"She probably ran out of money again," the grandmother cared little for this topic. "You know how she is with those business ventures in whatever she does."

"Does she know?" Kiyoko whispered lowly, her brain preparing for the worst case scenario. It was how they got here in the first place. Haru inadvertently being imprisoned in a remote area while the entire family pretended he did not exist. It had been at least a decade now. Her stomach knotted itself in guilt at the thought of it all.
"Know what?" her grandmother snapped. "Child, stop wasting my time."

"Does she know where Haru is?!" Kiyoko raised her voice, glad that she was in the confines of her Mercedes and not anywhere else. Unlike Asami, Kiyoko knew when to throw a fit. She was reasonably angry at the thought of her brother being shunned but felt the duty to still upkeep the family reputation, as she was raised to do all her life.

The eldest Hibayashi paused, unwavering at the outburst of the child. "Well the only trail to him is you," the grandmother pointed out calmly. "You and your stupid visits to the dead weight of the family."
"As if my father isn't dead weight," Kiyoko muttered in retaliation. "What the fuck do you want me to do? If she's already tracked my position this far… it's possible she already knows." The youngest Hibayashi feared for the worst.

The grandmother sighed. "We have a restraining order. There shouldn't be any reason to worry. If she's encroaching on th—"

"Private investigators don't," the granddaughter was quick to conclude. "She doesn't have to step foot into my gallery, she can send someone else to do it." The woman had always been taught to be ten steps ahead – it was their only way of survival, to stay ahead of the game when their family had been scorched by the fire far too many times in the past few decades. It was story fodder for the rich, but a headache and dark cloud that the rest of the family had to live with.

"Well, find out what she wants then," the grandmother spat.

"So we'll just give her what she wants?" Kiyoko snarled. "Pay the problem away? Can't we imprison her?" the woman was sick and tired of having to evade the problem at hand. Her own business was at stake with the woman snooping around. Kiyoko feared another tantrum at one of her galleries, or even worse, a giant exposé of some sort that would send her grandmother into an absolute wreck.

"And risk even more detriment to our reputation? Kiyoko, we cannot afford a criminal again in our family, we have enough skeletons in our closet. And especially not when you're being considered for marriage," the elder yelled over the phone. Kiyoko held the device further away from her ear and rolled her eyes. Always back to the same discussion, what a surprise.

"The odds of the Ootori family choosing ours is slim to none," Kiyoko chuckled ironically at the thought. Kyouya Ootori? He would never willingly choose her. She remembered the way his eyes looked – disgusted at the prospect of her. It was quite amusing to watch. He was just like everyone else: afraid of her and the Hibayashi clan. "I don't know why you're still holding out hope for this family."

"There are other families," the grandmother shot back. "The Ootoris are not the only medical group."
"Ah, but they are the biggest," the granddaughter knew that much. "It's an ambitious leap, Obaa-chan. I think you overestimate my abilities," Kiyoko reminded. "After all, I'm just a good-for-nothing socialite with an odd hobby for art," she quoted her grandmother. Odd hobby for art, she repeated inwardly. Is it an odd hobby if it brought her net worth to a million a year?

"You behave yourself," the elder warned lowly.
"I am always on my best behaviour," Kiyoko answered without missing a beat. "It's my father you should be worried about."
"Don't remind me," the grandmother grumbled to herself. "Anyway, Asami is harmless," she circled back to the matter at hand. The woman had been overseas for over a decade now with quite a large fund to keep her afloat.

"Well, does Asami know about me?" Kiyoko asked gingerly, unsure if this was another weapon against the family's reputation.
"The whole family knows about you," the elder rolled her eyes. "It was hardly a secret when you were born."
"So why hasn't she told the world about me?" the granddaughter wondered. "Truly, now is the time to do so, no? Right when I am of marriageable age."

"Someone needs to upkeep the flow of money in this household," the grandmother explained. "It does her no good to reveal your secret until you're actually married with actual assets to lose."

Kiyoko pursed her lips. Of course. Kiyoko was a pawn in the game of chess. Nothing more than that. There were more uses for her than to defend the family's reputation. "So what happens? At the best case scenario – I somehow weasel my way into the good graces of the Ootori group? They could still divorce me being illegitimate and all."

"We'll deal with her then," the grandmother declared. She had enough to worry about – silently running the corporation while trying to scheme her way into the good graces of the upper class families. The latter being much more difficult than the former. The elder was getting tired nowadays and looked forward to retiring, if ever.

"No, we need to deal with her now," Kiyoko pressed. Not that she had any ideas off the top of her head to truly deal with what most people assumed was the deranged aunt of the family. They assumed correctly from all the rare family dinners they all had. Things had gotten worse after the death of her mother – or rather, who she thought was her mother. Events usually ended in cutlery being thrown across the table, a few fine china on the floor, and of course, the children of the family being scared shitless for their lives.

"Then she's your problem," the elder hung up.

Kyouya watched her from afar, spotting her easily from a distance. She always dressed in hues of darkness paired with long red almond shaped nails that clutched onto a glass offered to her politely by a server. Her bored expression was plastered over her face as she observed her surroundings. Her eyebrows raised occasionally at the recognition of a few people she knew of but she made no move to speak to them. Truly, for a socialite, she was terrible at her job in being social.

Perhaps it was an uncanny ability over the years of being unseen that the hairs at the back of her neck stood when she felt the presence of someone from above. Surely there was no greater entity watching over her – it had to have been someone in the room that had taken an interest. But why? She wondered to herself. Kiyoko waited a few more moments, trailing around the room to see if their gaze would follow.

She looked up towards the grand staircase to only find crowds of middle-aged men that were her father's age. It an event for charity – the kind that only rich people went to because they pretended to care. Kiyoko only showed at the request of her grandmother who happened to be on the other side of the room, entertaining another family of sorts. Kiyoko moved slowly and deliberately across the venue, quietly slipping into the shadows.

Someone was watching her. Preying on her. Waiting for the right moment to strike. She felt it at the core of her bones. Well, if that were the case – Kiyoko dared them to find her in the shadows. She slipped into the dark as if inviting them to follow. Anyone would know not to make a scene in front of the crowds, that was rule number one.

A figure appeared within a few minutes as Kiyoko leaned against the wall with her glass of wine in between her slim fingers. She raised an eyebrow at the silhouette, unsure of who it could be. The gleam of their glasses had given them away when the moonlight had reflected off of them. Kiyoko relaxed. Oh, what a harmless lost creature he was. They really needed to stop meeting like this.

"Don't give my grandmother the wrong idea," Kiyoko warned with small smirk. "Do I have to remind you that I'm being considered as your future wife?" the woman chuckled, mostly to herself to watch him squirm at the thought. He kept his composure this time with only a slight narrowing of his eyes and a twitch of his lip. She got a kick out of irritating him so easily.

"I'm aware. Believe me, you are not the most ideal choice," Kyouya began. He cautiously stepped closer to her, as if expecting the woman to retreat further. Instead, Kiyoko stayed in the same casual position against the wall, sipping on her champagne flute without care.

"Oh?" Kiyoko raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you come find me?" the woman eyed him from head to toe in the low lighting. There was nothing particularly good looking about him – anyone could look nice in a well-tailored suit, after all. His jaw was sharp, his nose pointed. The Ootori's height and slim stature was nothing too worthy to note. Quite a stark contrast to his ego, she thought to herself.

"To inform you of your aunt's whereabouts," the Ootori answered her.

Kiyoko kept her casual stance against the wall. She didn't even blink an eye. You must never show people that we are weak, child. "And why would that be of any use to me?" Kiyoko responded monotonously.

"She's quite the character," Kyouya responded. "Aren't you worried?"

"That's my grandmother's job," she quipped. "I'm just here to get married," Kiyoko shrugged nonchalantly. The grooves of her collarbones lit up beneath the moonlight. She noted the way his eyes shifted. What was he looking at in particular? She wondered. "After all, what good am I for?" she added lightly when his eyes met hers.

"Are they true?" Kyouya inquired. They were sealed away in a hallway away from the event hall. A dimly lit area beside an emergency staircase.
"Hm?" Kiyoko stood up straighter from the wall and shot him a bored glance, readying to leave.
"The rumours," the Ootori continued.

The woman smiled at him – the kind that you would give a naïve child who asked if monsters were real. "Well, you'll have to be more specific than that." There were far too many rumours that circulated around their little bubble. Kiyoko paid little attention to them – there were better things to do.

"Are we the crazy family? Maybe you have to marry me to find out," she dared. Kiyoko grazed past him with her now empty champagne flute. Her heels clicked against the granite tiles, echoing down the hall as she moved towards the crowd again. Her legs peaked through the thigh-high slit of her black dress. It took him a few seconds to realize that she wasn't going to stay. He caught up to her with a quick jog keeping up with the pace of her heels.

"Ah," Kiyoko warned lowly to him. "I told you not to give my grandmother the wrong idea." They were walking towards the crowds now, now within eyesight of people who would find them conversing together. Now that they were under the right light, her signature dark lip grew more prominent. Her hair was in a tight French bun, her dress was not black but rather a deep navy blue. She looked the part of a socialite, even up close. Everything about her was flawless. From the hair to lined eyes and long lashes, to her Louboutin shoes. The dark blue of her dress reminded him of the painting that stood across from his desk in his office.

"I believe I would be giving her the right idea," Kyouya gritted out. He was getting irritated. Kiyoko could easily hear it now.
"Oh?" the socialite raised an eyebrow, edging him further. "To what would I owe the pleasure of the Ootori saving me from a lifetime of utter despair and tragedy?"
"Listen," the Ootori's patience was waning thin at her avoidance of the topic. "Your aunt—"

Kiyoko turned away and faced the server for another glass of alcohol. This time, she grabbed two and shoved it in the Ootori's hands to distract him. Only the Hibayashis knew the family's whereabouts and their activities. At the very least, Kiyoko and her grandmother did their best to keep a low profile. Her father and aunt were generally the opposite. But what did it matter when the profits came in year after year? This was about business.

"Would you at least look like you're having a good time?" Kiyoko rolled her eyes, still ignoring the topic at hand. If she was at least going to make an appearance that told her grandmother she was doing her job, the Ootori at least had to look entertained. "Think of the optics."
"No, you should think of the optics if you're thinking of marrying into my family," he argued in frustration.

The woman chuckled lowly. "There's no amount of optics that could save our reputation. You know there are other candidates, right? Other means of getting what you need," she tried to explain.
"For someone who said they were groomed for marriage, you sure aren't making a good case for yourself," he narrowed his eyes at her. Kyouya did not appreciate her condescending tone. How dare she?

Kiyoko smiled at him in the same manner she did before. "I'm trying to save you from yourself, Ootori-san. After all, you're the one who is afraid. I'm doing you the favour." It was the Ootori who wasn't ready for marriage.
"Save me?" he repeated with a scoff.
"I have everything to gain and you have everything to lose," she reminded. "Whatever you want to tell me about my aunt that is of any concern – you know blackmail doesn't work on our family, right?" The Hibayashis had their own fair share of blackmail over the years. Each time, somehow, all of it went away thanks to her grandmother's doing. This would be no different.

The Ootori backed down and exhaled quietly to himself before taking a sip from the glass she had handed to him. Kiyoko relaxed only slightly when she noticed the Ootori backing off. He was getting tired of this game.

"Oh, don't look so disappointed," Kiyoko mocked. "My aunt is indeed the temperamental one – the whole world knows that. She has no shares in the company so don't you worry, Ootori-san. She won't come take your money away should you happen to inherit our hospitals."

"She could come take yours," Kyouya bluntly pointed out.
"I suppose she could try," Kiyoko agreed without missing a beat. There was something so defiant in her eyes. She stood her ground as the rest of the world seemed to crumble away, unafraid of the unknown. He wondered what she was thinking. If she knew what he knew from all the snooping he had done.

"She's back in the country," he told her. "She'll likely come to stir something up – so whatever secrets your family ha—"
"Why are you telling me this?" Kiyoko cut him off, obviously already knowing of the fact. The Ootori had done his own research – clearly having read some of the tabloid articles of her own family over the years. Ironic how their family history had been plastered across the tabloids like an archive.

"It's in my best interest," he scoffed. Wasn't it obvious? If he had to marry her, he needed to look out for both their reputations. Better now than later. It was an annoying task but here he was, offering his truce to her.

Kiyoko tilted her head in confusion at him. "No," the Hibayashi drawled. It nearly sent shivers to his spine in the way her voice reverberated in his chest. "No," she repeated again as she shook her head slightly. She settled into a serious tone that had him standing up straighter. "It is not in your best interest to meddle in our affairs, Ootori-san." Her eyes flickered at him. He was entering a territory that suddenly felt unchartered. He had ventured into a space where the woman was not angry, no – she worried for him. An odd response, the Ootori thought to himself. Why would she ever need to worry for someone like him?

"Affairs," Kyouya enunciated. "Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first affair that your famil—"
"—As I said," Kiyoko interrupted again. She didn't have to be reminded of her father's habits. "I have everything to gain and you have everything to lose. Choose wisely, Ootori-san."

"I choose you," he smirked triumphantly. He wasn't afraid of her. In the same way that she declared to him that she was groomed for this – he stood up to the same standard she had set. The boy had no idea what he was getting into. That stupid bastard thought he had the upper hand. Kiyoko inwardly sighed and felt the hair at back of her neck stand once again. She resisted a shiver down her spine. The socialite looked up to meet the eyes of her grandmother who had been watching the young couple from afar, peering quietly over the railing on the balcony above. She feared her grandmother's eyes as a child. The way they looked so abysmal – how a glare could immediately send tears streaming down her cheeks. Kiyoko felt like a child again before returning back to the man that stood in front of her. The stupid Ootori who had boldly declared his decision to her.

"We'll see about that," Kiyoko replied skeptically. She called his bluff immediately. "Give it time."
"Oh? Who's afraid now?" Kyouya taunted.
The woman rolled her eyes. "Are you suddenly unafraid because you view me as a transaction? A quick signature on pieces of paper. A titular role of a husband added to the most important one of all: the CEO?"

He stood silent, daring her to continue her monologue. He was intrigued. The Ootori watched her curiously.

Kiyoko sipped on her wine before stepping closer to him. He could do nothing but watch her, entranced by the way her eyes glinted as she looked at his face. She gently placed her palm on his arm, her neck reaching over to what seemed to be his cheek. He could smell the notes of gardenia on her skin. He could feel the warmth of her breath against his neck as her lips came closer to his ear. "Suit yourself, Ootori-san. You won't get to divorce me that easily."

She let him go with a gentle push before looking over her shoulder. She spoke with her eyes – she did not taunt him.

She warned him.

She confused him. Why did she bother to warn him? Or at least, that was what he saw in her eyes. Maybe he had interpreted it incorrectly. It was a split second of a glance before she walked off into the darkness again, never appearing again for the rest of the night.

She was shrouded in mystery to not just him, but the rest of their society. Everyone knew of their family history. It was not pretty by any means. Her mother was the daughter of the founder of the company. She fell in love with a commoner and married the man, much to her family's chagrin. Fell pregnant with Kiyoko shortly after. Her aunt had been caught insider trading and money laundering, so she was banished from the company and the family – leaving only Kiyoko's father to take over after her mother's death. The family history was messy, but somehow, their hospitals performance had been incredibly stable and profitable over the years having followed the plans of the founder who passed away two decades ago.

But purely in terms of strategic value, Kiyoko was the pawn he needed to checkmate. It was the business that he was after – not her nor her family. But to do business, he needed connections and to have a black cloud over his head was not a convenient thing for the Ootori.

"Oi," Tamaki flailed his hands at his friend again. "What's wrong? You haven't eaten a single bite of your food."
"Nothing," Kyouya brushed off. Goodness, he needed to stop agreeing to entertain his friend during his lunch hour. This had been a monthly occurrence now, at the insistence of his friend who wanted to make sure to keep their friendship alive and well despite leading vastly different lives now.

"Didn't you say you had that charity thing to attend? How was it?" his friend asked casually before popping a bite of his own pasta into his mouth. "Did you see the woman the Twins keep talking about?" he continued.
"Yes," the Shadow King responded.

"And?" Tamaki was bright eyed and curious. "Did you woo her? Sweep her off her feet? Ask her to dance? Tell her she's beautiful? After all, you are intending to make her your wife, no?"
"No," Kyouya answered in the same tone as before. "It was purely business."

Tamaki frowned immediately by the Ootori's explanation.

Was it so awful to marry purely based on a business transaction? His friends thought otherwise. Tamaki and Haruhi married for love. The Twins mocked him at every chance they got, amused by the reputation of the Hibayashis most of all. But beneath the mockery was the reminder that it was a poor choice to marry the girl – especially when she already carried the reputation of insanity.

Quite frankly, Kyouya could not deny that the woman knew what she was doing. After all, marrying was her job and marrying into a family like his would mean that she had completed her duty to restore her family's reputation. It checked all the boxes. It was the least insane thing one could do.

She was well-educated and a good businesswoman, at least from what he could tell. He was reminded of it every time he stepped into his office when the sea welcomed him every morning. She carried the dark cloud of her family's unfortunate reputation on her shoulders quite gracefully – mostly in the fact that she kept herself out of the limelight over the years, after her stint of being a professional poker player.

After much analysis, Kyouya had deemed that her choices made sense. Except for the poker. She had quite the poker face – he'll give her that. She didn't even blink at the mention of her deranged aunt.

"But you think of her," Tamaki blinked when he saw his friend in a quiet daze, staring at his plate of food without any bother to actually eat. "Do you not?"
"I think of ascending to the position of the sole heir of the Ootori group," Kyouya corrected. "She is nothing but a stepping stone."

"She's human," Tamaki scolded. "A woman who has gone through much tragedy in her life, don't you think? She lost her mother quite young."
"She's a privileged woman of the upper class who spends her time curating art, Tamaki," Kyouya rolled his eyes. "She is doing fine."

Tamaki shook his head. "You cannot expect to have her fall in love—"
"—I don't need her to fall in love with me," Kyouya hissed. Such a silly idea.

"But you will need her to marry you, don't you?" the Suoh pressed. "She cannot be willing to marry such a robot of a man."
"Oh, but she is," Kyouya assured. "It is her duty and she will oblige when the time comes."
"How do you know? I surely think that any woman would at least want a loving marriage, like the rest of us."
"Just because you and Haruhi have a loving marriage doesn't mean we all need one," the Ootori rolled his eyes.

Tamaki shook his head at his friend. "Marriage is more than just a partnership," he tried again.
"It is a business partnership," Kyouya corrected. "Nothing more."

The Suoh stared at his friend blankly. The stubborn man would hear nothing of his ideals of romance and marriage. He was only trying to look out for his friend – his happiness. It was important.

"Does she feel the same?" Tamaki wondered. He hoped to meet her himself someday to see if she was what he described.
"Surely," Kyouya perched up his glasses. "Without a doubt, she understands the liabilities of this arrangement."

"Then is she just like you then?" the Suoh raised an eyebrow. Was she as dark and brooding as the Shadow King himself? Calculative, cold, and seemingly ruthless at the thought of anything less than logical?

"Oh god no," Kyouya denied. "Not at all." He was nothing like her, he thought. He did not waste his time with the frivolous arts when he was running a business. She was a socialite, first and foremost – a poor one at that. He was a businesswoman. The only thing they had in common was that they were of marriageable age.

"How can you expect her to agree to your terms?" Tamaki wondered. "To enter a contractual arrangement for life, to bear childr—"
"—We'll see," Kyouya did not want to cross the bridge of heirs just yet. All he needed was to inherit the business. After that, they would speak to the issue at hand. Perhaps, part ways at that point should she not want to bear the heirs of the next generation.

"You should befriend her, at least," Tamaki urged. "Especially if you'll be working together."
"You do not have to be friends to do business," the Ootori pointed out.
"Can you at least try? Start small. Ask her for a coffee," the Suoh suggested. "Just get to know her. Perhaps… you'll find something more valuable."

"Friendship is hardly as valuable as an entire corporation," Kyouya muttered.

The two parted ways within an hour while Kyouya had to attend his regular 1:30 PM meeting with some other directors of the platform. His brain wandered elsewhere as the slides on the screen flipped at a snail pace.

Perhaps… you'll find something more valuable. The words repeated at the back of his mind.

Are you suddenly unafraid because you view me as a transaction? A quick signature on pieces of paper. A titular role of a husband added to the most important one of all: the CEO?

How did she know? Of course she knew, she always read him like an open book. His thoughts were so obvious that she plucked them from his brain like petals off a daisy. She knew him better than he had ever thought and likely at the fraction of the information he had on her. How? He wondered.

It made him feel vulnerable. Embarrassed, even. She saw him in ways no one else dared to. How she looked at him as though he were nothing more than the naïve teenager he was back in Ouran. She belittled him so easily with just a single smirk. It drove him mad. He gripped the pen between his fingers as the ink spilled onto the sheet of blank paper beneath him.

Is she just like you then?

No, he denied. He refused to be cut from the same cloth as her. He would never be on the same level. She even said it herself, she was from a cesspool of horrors. They would never be the same. He would never allow himself to be dragged into that nightmare.