Episode1

(Aoshi's pov)

If someone asked me what keeps me moving forward, I would answer without hesitation: Souta.

Because of him, my world didn’t collapse the day my parents left me behind. Because of him, I learned to smile again even when everything felt empty. And because of him… my heart beats.

He is my uncle—or at least, that’s what everyone calls him. But in truth, he isn’t bound to me by blood. Souta was adopted into our family long before I was born, a wandering young man who somehow found a home under my grandfather’s roof. Fate, or perhaps accident, made him part of my life. And when tragedy struck and my parents were gone, he stepped forward without hesitation.

From that day, he carried responsibilities that weren’t his, wore burdens that should have been mine, and shielded me from the weight of the world.

I’ve always looked up to him. Admired him. But lately… admiration feels too small a word.

Souta is handsome—no, that’s not enough either. He’s breathtaking. Not in a way that’s loud or exaggerated, but in that quiet, devastating way that makes heads turn without him even trying. His frame is tall and solid, shoulders broad enough to carry everything I can’t. His jawline is sharp, his lips firm, and his eyes… those calm, steady eyes that always seem to see through me, softening only when they linger on me.

When I was younger, I thought he looked like a hero from one of those picture books my mother used to read me. Now that I’m older, I realize that heroes are flawed, but he… he’s still someone I can’t help but believe in.

To the world, Souta is the man in control of my family’s company. At meetings, he sits at the head of the table, composed and calculating, his every word precise enough to sway a room of men twice his age. He makes decisions that would terrify me, and he never flinches. They call him cold, ruthless even.

But they don’t know the Souta who makes sure I eat breakfast before class. The Souta who scolds me for forgetting my umbrella when it rains. The Souta who drapes a blanket over me when I fall asleep on the couch with books scattered across the floor.

That’s the side of him only I see. The side that treats me like a child, even when I insist I’m grown. And maybe… maybe I don’t hate it.

---

This morning was no different.

“You’re awake? That’s unusual,” Souta remarked when I stumbled into the dining room. His voice was calm as always, but the corner of his lips twitched as if he were suppressing a smile.

“I woke up early,” I mumbled, sliding into my chair.

“Mm.” He set a plate of toast and eggs in front of me. “Eat properly. You’ll be late if you waste time.”

I stared at his hands as he placed the fork neatly by the plate. Strong, elegant hands—hands that had signed countless contracts and yet were gentle enough to pat my head when I was a child. My chest tightened. I forced myself to look away.

We ate in silence, the kind of silence that wasn’t awkward but comfortable. I could feel his presence across the table like sunlight seeping through a window.

Later, in the car, he glanced at me briefly before pulling into the road. His dark hair caught the light, making him look even sharper than usual.

“Don’t skip lunch today,” he said, his eyes fixed on the road. “And focus on your lectures instead of staring out the window. I’ll know if you’re slacking.”

I rolled my eyes. “You always say that.”

“That’s because you never listen.” His reply was so smooth, it made me huff. But then, as if to soften the sting, his voice gentled. “I’ll pick you up after class. Call me if you need anything.”

My heart thudded, and I turned my face toward the window so he wouldn’t see the flush creeping up my neck. He never realized how much those words meant. To him, it was just responsibility. To me, it was everything.

When the car finally stopped at the college gates, I stepped out reluctantly. Souta lowered the window, leaning slightly toward me. His tie was perfectly straight, his expression as composed as ever.

“Study well,” he said simply.

I nodded, swallowing hard. “See you later.”

And then, like every day, I watched the car disappear into traffic, leaving me with the echo of his voice in my ears and the steady pounding of my heart.

---

College life was supposed to distract me. To give me space where I wasn’t the heir to a company or the boy living under Souta’s care. Here, I could just be… me.

“Late again,” a familiar voice called out, laced with amusement.

I turned to see Ayan jogging toward me, his bright smile stretching ear to ear. His dark brown hair was always a mess, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, and his glasses slid down his nose in the most careless way.

“Ayan,” I muttered, adjusting my bag.

“You know, you should thank me,” he said, falling into step beside me. “I cover for you in attendance half the time. One of these days, the professors are going to catch on.”

I snorted. “You don’t cover for me. You just say I went to the restroom.”

“And it works, doesn’t it?” His grin widened. “You’re lucky to have me.”

I shook my head, but I couldn’t help smiling. Ayan was my best friend—the complete opposite of Souta. Where Souta was composed and reserved, Ayan was loud, talkative, and a little reckless. But maybe that’s why I needed him. He kept me grounded, reminded me that I was still a student, still young, still allowed to laugh.

“By the way,” Ayan nudged me, “was it him again?”

I blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You know…” He leaned closer, his grin mischievous. “Your oh-so-handsome uncle dropping you off like a chauffeur.”

My ears heated. “He’s not—shut up, Ayan.”

Ayan laughed, clapping me on the back. “I swear, every time he comes to pick you up, half the girls—and guys—on campus stare like he’s a celebrity. And you…” His eyes narrowed teasingly. “You get all red whenever he talks to you. It’s hilarious.”

I forced a laugh, masking the truth that pulsed beneath my skin. He didn’t know. He could never know.

Because of him… because of Souta, my heart beats. And that was a secret I intended to carry alone.

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