Shinguuji Akira had never truly felt he was beyond his father's gaze.
He was aware—painfully so—that someone was always watching him from the shadows. Not to monitor him, but to protect him. Unless he were truly in danger, he would likely never even know where those people were hidden.
The younger Akira might have remained oblivious. Back then, he was just a kid, unfamiliar with the undercurrents of society. But the soul inside him now belonged to a man who had lived twenty-five years, worked full-time in the adult world, and learned what filth lurked behind polished smiles.
And so, far from resenting the surveillance, Akira felt grateful for it. Relieved, even. At the very least, it meant he didn't have to constantly worry about his own safety. He could live his life on his own terms.
Very few knew his true identity—but that didn't mean it wouldn't leak. There were always those desperate enough to take risks. Terrorists, lunatics, the kind of people who didn't think twice about destroying others to get ahead.
On the surface, the Six Major Zaibatsu of Japan maintained the illusion of mutual support, monopolizing the nation's economic lifelines together. But Akira was an only child—he alone was the heir to the Shinguuji Conglomerate. No one could say for sure that some power-hungry rival wouldn't get... ideas.
If his father had simply left him to his own devices, that would've been the real joke. A man who held one of the greatest economic powerhouses in the palm of his hand—there's no way he'd make a mistake like that.
As long as they didn't interfere with his day-to-day life, Akira had long since decided to let it slide.
It was always going to happen eventually…
With a quiet, bitter smile, Akira lowered his gaze—and answered the call.
"…Father."
He drew in a deep breath. He didn't know how the original "Shinguuji Akira" used to speak to his father—what tone, what habits. All he could do was face the man in his own way.
This was, without question, the moment he had feared the most since arriving in this world.
Meeting the family tied to this identity.
But he couldn't keep running forever.
He had to confront it.
He just hadn't expected the moment to come this soon.
"..."
There was no response from the other end. Only silence—as if something were building. If it weren't for the faint sound of breathing over the line, Akira would've thought the call had been cut.
He waited.
The silence stretched, and Akira found himself unsure how to begin.
There was no real bond between them.
Maybe, over time, he'd grow to feel something for this man. But not now.
Not yet.
"…You've changed. So much, I nearly didn't recognize you."
That first sentence sent a chill down Akira's spine.
A voice—low, commanding, and impossibly calm—spoke from the other end. It was the kind of voice that could silence a boardroom with a single word.
Shinguuji Akira's father.
The man who had inherited the vast empire built by Akira's grandfather. The only son of the previous generation—just like Akira himself.
A man so powerful, so deeply entrenched in Japan's economic engine, that he could stand eye-to-eye with the Prime Minister and the Emperor without blinking.
The sheer presence he radiated wasn't something a former office worker like Akira could match. Were it not for the thin thread of blood between them, Akira would have felt crushed by now.
"I... felt like I needed a change," Akira said carefully, weighing each word, leaving himself room to maneuver.
"…Seems that hospital stay did you some good."
The voice softened—barely.
There was a pause before the word "hospital," like a tremor of unease had slipped through. A shadow of fear.
Akira relaxed slightly.
A normal person would never suspect the truth of what had happened to him. His father, clearly, was no fool—and he'd even provided Akira with a convenient excuse.
There was concern in that voice.
Genuine concern.
And that man... wasn't quite the heartless corporate machine Akira had imagined.
"So I've cut ties with most of the people I used to know," Akira said, letting his voice ease a little. "I want to start over."
"…That's fine. Let's start over, then. Ever since your mother passed, you've been quiet. Withdrawn. Even stopped talking to Airi. But now, you seem brighter. If your mother were watching from above... I think she'd be happy."
His voice caught. Just for a moment.
The mask slipped.
This man who could orchestrate billion-yen mergers without blinking—was mourning his wife, even now. That vulnerability showed through. Clear as day.
A man who loved deeply...
Akira understood.
And he saw more clearly now how things must have gone before.
After his mother's death, the original Akira had likely shut himself off. Fell into addiction—pills, alcohol, anything to numb the pain. Until his body gave out.
Until Akira's soul arrived.
"…Father. I don't want to come back right now."
He spoke carefully, choosing his words.
No way he was going to give up on his dream, now that it had finally begun.
There was a pause.
"…I know what you've been doing recently. You're doing well. Some of it might be luck, but to get this far without the family's help… you've done better than most. I knew the moment you started learning piano as a child—you were always sharp. I won't dig into your past mistakes. If they helped you grow, then that's enough. You don't need to return for now. You'll be seventeen soon—it's time you learned independence. Just don't repeat those same errors again."
Then, after another pause—
"…But listen closely."
"Yes, Father. I'm listening."
Akira kept his tone respectful, even as excitement bubbled beneath the surface.
As long as he could live on his own—free—then that was enough.
"First: If you're going to do something, do it well. Don't disgrace this family."
"I understand. If it's something I care about, I'll give it everything."
"Good… Second: You're free to do what you want—for now. Whether you succeed or fail, it's fine. But once you turn twenty-five, you'll begin taking over the family business. I'll guide you through it, step by step. Until then, live as you please. I won't interfere."
"I understand, Father. I'll do everything I can for the family when the time comes."
Like hell I'd pass up something like that.
Power. Wealth. Control.
Only a fool would throw that away.
Maybe the spoiled heirs of rich families viewed it as a burden—but not Akira.
He had been nothing in his past life.
And now, the empire of a zaibatsu lay in his future.
"Good. With that, I can rest easy... Lastly—try to contact Airi when you can. After your mother passed, your relationship fell apart. But when you were in critical condition, she stayed by your bedside. Two days. Two nights. She didn't sleep a wink."