Shinguuji Akira sat quietly in his chair, eyes drifting toward the window, his mind elsewhere. He tried to picture what kind of girl could be so strange that even his seasoned, no-nonsense father had called her "peculiar."
"If she doesn't interfere with my work, fine…"
His tone was flat, tinged with restrained irritation. Understandable, given the timing—he was neck-deep in deadlines, and suddenly being told to look after some unfamiliar guest wasn't on his to-do list. Especially when the guest came with a reputation for being odd.
His phone vibrated again.
He picked it up. A new email.
No subject. No message.
Just a single photo.
As soon as it loaded, Akira froze.
It was a girl—no older than five or six. Her long, pale-gold hair shimmered with an almost surreal softness, even in the static frame of a photo. She wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and a simple white dress. Her porcelain-like skin glowed faintly under the muted sunlight.
No smile. No words.
Just her gaze locked with the lens. Calm. Still. As if she were staring directly at him, not the camera.
There was a strange quiet in that image.
A weight.
Akira exhaled and let out a quiet scoff.
"…So that's what had you all worked up, old man? Honestly."
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his temple, amusement and fatigue mixing in his expression.
"She's got an eerie vibe, I'll give you that. The kind of kid who says nothing but watches everything."
His hand reached down to scratch behind the ears of the Labrador lying peacefully at his feet.
"But it's fine. I'm not exactly the type to freak out over quiet kids. I can handle weird—been weird myself most of my life."
He shrugged off the thought and tapped the screen, closing the email. She wasn't arriving until next week, anyway. Still seven days of freedom left.
He refreshed his browser.
Twitter was overflowing with notifications again.
More replies than usual. More followers. But the buzz no longer held his attention.
Had a lot of fun meeting new people today. Thanks for the support! Logging off for the night—make sure to sleep early if you've got school or work! Especially you girls—beauty sleep is real, trust me~
He hit send, then closed his laptop with a soft click.
It was just past ten. Normally, this was when his energy kicked in, but tonight felt heavier. The conversation with his father had left a strange weight in his chest.
Not tired in body—tired in spirit.
"Soul fatigue… that's new."
"Uu~…"
The Labrador gave a soft whimper, tail twitching, as if in agreement.
Akira chuckled.
"Yeah, yeah. You're right. Early night for once."
Curtains drawn. Lights off.
Silence wrapped around the room like a blanket.
— — —
Kyoto.
Once known as Heian-kyō, a city carved from myth and memory.
Before Tokyo rose to power, Kyoto had been the soul of Japan—its cultural and spiritual center. Even now, it lingered like a dream of a bygone era, with the scent of incense and history floating through narrow alleys lined with wooden townhouses.
If Tokyo was the future, Kyoto was the past that refused to fade.
Temples. Shrines. Wisteria hanging from garden gates.
And not far from the heart of the city stood the ancestral estate of the Shinguuji clan—unchanged in location, even if the world around it had shifted.
From the outside, it looked like any elegant, traditional mansion. Tranquil. Timeless.
But inside… the fusion was jarring.
Tatami mats and sliding doors sat beside European chandeliers, hardwood floors, and imported furniture. A hybrid of East and West. A living contradiction.
The compound was heavily guarded. Men in black patrolled its walls like shadows. Their coats concealed more than just formality. High-end security systems tracked every inch of the estate.
You could mistake it for a small royal palace.
Inside the Western wing, a middle-aged man had just ended a phone call.
Crisp dress shirt. Tailored vest. Not a wrinkle out of place.
He sat in a carved chair of dark zitan wood. Before him, a minimalist desk—clean, symmetrical. His posture spoke of discipline, his presence of command.
A butler stood quietly at his side.
"Father, was that Akira?"
The voice was light and melodic—refined, but unmistakably young.
It belonged to a girl.
The kind of voice that could stop someone in their tracks with its softness.
The man's stern face softened slightly at the sound.
"Eiri. How many times must I remind you? He is your elder brother. Address him properly. Don't speak so informally—it's unseemly."
Though the words were strict, there was no bite to them.
The butler bowed with a kind smile.
"Good morning, Ojou-sama."
"Uncle Akimoto~"
She bowed back gracefully, but turned her face with a slight pout.
Shinguuji Eiri.
Akira's twin sister. Sixteen, approaching seventeen.
She was the pride of the family line—beautiful in a way that felt almost too deliberate. Tall for her age, her figure was slender and poised, every movement touched with quiet elegance. Her long black hair flowed like silk, tipped with a soft chestnut hue that caught the light.
The resemblance to her brother was subtle but there—sharp features, intelligent eyes.
But where Akira was sharp and brooding, Eiri carried herself like a song—graceful and composed.
She wore a pale blue nightdress, soft fabric clinging gently to her shoulders. Her posture was regal, even in something as casual as sleepwear. Clutched tightly in her arms was a massive, worn-out teddy bear.
The contrast made her seem both older and younger than she was.
A girl on the cusp of adulthood, still holding on to childhood's warmth.