Episode 1 —I’m Not Willing

The church was filled with soft music and the quiet murmur of guests waiting for the ceremony to reach its final moment. Sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows, scattering colored light across the aisle lined with white roses. Everything had been prepared perfectly — the decorations, the seating, the atmosphere — all arranged for a flawless wedding between two prominent families.

At the altar stood Masaki Fujimoto, calm and composed, dressed in an immaculate suit. His posture was straight, his expression unreadable as he watched the person standing opposite him.

Beside him, holding a bouquet, was Yuki Aizawa.

Yuki’s face was calm, almost too calm for someone about to be married. His gaze rested on Masaki’s face, searching for something he already knew he would not find.

The priest’s voice broke the silence.

“Masaki Fujimoto, do you take Yuki Aizawa to be your spouse, to love and cherish from this day forward?”

“Yes,” Masaki answered without hesitation.

There was polite applause from the guests. Everything seemed to be moving exactly as planned.

Then the priest turned toward Yuki.

“And you, Yuki Aizawa — do you take Masaki Fujimoto to be your spouse? To remain together through hardship and happiness, in sickness and in health?”

The church fell silent.

Yuki did not answer.

Seconds passed. The silence grew heavier, uncomfortable.

Guests began whispering among themselves. Yuki’s father shifted impatiently in his seat, while his elder brother watched closely, sensing something unusual.

Masaki frowned slightly. “Yuki?”

Yuki lowered his gaze to the bouquet in his hands. Memories pressed against his mind — choices made blindly, a future filled with regret, and a love he had once mistaken for destiny.

He lifted his head again.

“I won’t,” he said clearly.

The words echoed through the hall like a sudden crack of thunder.

Gasps spread among the guests.

Masaki’s expression darkened. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not marrying you,” Yuki repeated, his voice calm but firm.

Shock rippled through the room. His father stood abruptly, anger visible on his face, while members of the Fujimoto family whispered indignantly.

Yuki placed the bouquet aside and removed the decorative veil from his shoulder, letting it fall to the ground.

“This wedding ends here.”

Masaki reached out and grabbed his wrist, his grip firm but controlled. “Do you understand what you’re doing? This isn’t a joke.”

Yuki met his eyes without fear.

“Do you even know who you love?” he asked quietly.

For the first time, Masaki hesitated.

Yuki pulled free.

He turned away from the altar, ignoring the rising noise behind him. Each step toward the exit felt heavier yet strangely freeing.

Near the back of the hall, someone watched silently.

Haruto Takahashi stood apart from the crowd, calm and unreadable, his gaze fixed entirely on Yuki.

Their eyes met briefly.

Yuki felt something shift — not recognition exactly, but the faint beginning of change.

Without stopping, he walked past him and pushed open the doors.

The bright light outside swallowed him whole.

He had just escaped his marriage.

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