"Hayasaka, how much longer do I have to keep this up…?"
The banquet had been going for just over an hour. Once again, after exchanging polite words with someone who had come over to greet her, Shinomiya Kaguya slipped away to a quiet corner. The moment she turned her back, her smile melted into a mask of irritation.
"The banquet's only just begun. Leaving now would look improper—downright rude, even. Please endure it just a little longer, milady."
Hayasaka Ai's voice was practiced, calm, smoothing away her mistress's displeasure as naturally as breathing.
After all, this wasn't the first time. Situations like this had played out more times than she could count since childhood, and she was long accustomed to it.
That was simply the reality.
To the outside world, being the daughter of the Shinomiya Group meant a life free of worry—luxury, refinement, privilege for as long as one lived. But few ever grasped the pressure hidden beneath that glittering surface. Shackled freedom, a life decided not by one's own hand, but like a bird in a gilded cage.
And because she stood at the very center of a whirlpool of power and profit, she could never escape the constant eyes on her. More than that—relentless, suffocating surveillance…
"All right, I get it." Kaguya exhaled softly, almost wistful. "I'll stay and behave myself a while longer. So please, Ai, stop looking so stern."
"…"
Hayasaka's eyes, shadowed with a trace of guilt, slowly softened at her mistress's words.
Her expression hadn't hardened at Kaguya's complaints. No—it was because, later tonight, she would again have to file her report to the Shinomiya main house. Reporting every detail of her lady's behavior.
Every time she did it, she loathed herself a little more for being that "traitor."
But that was something she could never say aloud.
Just then, Hayasaka noticed several figures approaching.
One in particular made her pulse leap—the very person she had been secretly supporting these past weeks.
Still, she was Shinomiya Kaguya's maid above all else. Burying her quickened heartbeat, she leaned close and whispered softly:
"Someone's coming, milady."
At once, Kaguya adjusted herself. The irritation vanished. Her expression blossomed into a serene, graceful smile, the perfect image of a Shinomiya daughter.
Touma Yōko's reasoning was simple. She knew that the Shinomiya Group was one of the patrons of this competition.
And now, here at the banquet, she saw someone from the Shinomiya family. Even if it was just a young girl, it was still necessary to introduce herself.
Extending goodwill first—that was the guiding principle of Yōko's social philosophy.
For years, her warm, unintrusive manner had won her countless allies and returned her rewards beyond expectation.
At first, seeing the Shinomiya daughter flanked by none other than the recent competition's champion and runner-up, Kaguya felt her mood sour. Darkly, she suspected this smiling woman had come just to flaunt her connections.
But as the conversation unfolded, her suspicion waned. She had to admit: this woman's emotional intelligence was extraordinarily high.
Not once did Yōko bring up the competition. Instead, she spoke naturally of unrelated matters—casual, elegant.
For example, she congratulated Kaguya on her achievements in koto and kyūdō competitions, speaking with such familiarity and precision about the details that her praise felt surprisingly genuine.
Kaguya knew it was flattery. But unlike the hollow compliments she had endured all evening, this one didn't repulse her.
Why? Simple—Yōko came across as sincere. She knew enough of the small, almost forgotten details that her words struck home.
In plain terms, the flattery landed exactly where it mattered most. And that, Kaguya had to admit, felt… pleasant.
"…And of course, congratulations to both of you for winning champion and runner-up in the competition."
The woman had extended kindness; as a Shinomiya, Kaguya could hardly afford to appear graceless.
"I thank you," Minamoto Senya replied politely.
Yet, though he spoke the words to Kaguya, his eyes flickered her way only for the briefest second. The very next instant, his gaze shifted—to Hayasaka Ai.
No one else noticed such a subtle motion.
But Hayasaka did. Her heart skipped as though his simple "thank you" had been directed not at Kaguya… but at her.
Did… did he recognize me?
No. Impossible.
The thought flared up only to be smothered at once. She had left no trace back when she sent flowers. And when they first met, they had only been children.
That memory lingered so vividly for her because it had been her first brush with "disaster"—losing her mother's beloved contact book, panic turning into relief, an unforgettable swing of emotion.
But for Minamoto Senya? That must have been just another childhood moment, long forgotten.
Yet when their eyes met, she quickly looked away, her expression unchanged. As if she were only her mistress's shadow.
Senya frowned slightly. Had he been mistaken? Was the mysterious flower-giver someone else entirely?
Yōko, sensing the moment was enough, gracefully ended the exchange and withdrew with her companions.
"As expected of a world-renowned pianist," Kaguya murmured, studying the card Yōko had handed her. "Her composure, her refinement… none of it is mere chance."
She waited for Ai's reply. But silence followed.
Turning, she saw her maid still staring after the retreating figures. Ai's hands, hanging naturally at her sides, were clenched faintly into fists, her eyes betraying a focus far too sharp for mere curiosity.
"…Hayasaka?"
Ai blinked, then turned back with a calm face. "Yes, milady?"
Ah. She's back to normal.
Kaguya sighed inwardly. Ai had been running herself ragged these past weeks, attending competitions and managing schedules at her side. No wonder she seemed worn thin.
"…It's nothing. When we return tonight, are there any further engagements?"
"Tonight's banquet is the final item."
"I see. Then once we're home, I'll retire early. You should rest too, Ai."
"Yes, milady."
Most people cannot see what lies behind them without help.
But Minamoto Senya was an exception.
He saw it clearly. More clearly, in fact, than Kaguya herself, who had been standing right beside Ai.
Though Ai had looked composed in front of him, once his back was turned, convinced she was unseen, she had faltered.
Yes—it was her. She had been the one to send him flowers.
And the reason she kept silent, hiding her recognition, was obvious enough once he thought about it from her perspective.
She was Shinomiya Kaguya's maid. He was Kaguya's rival. Secretly supporting her mistress's opponent was hardly "appropriate."
Understanding her situation, Senya smiled faintly to himself. Everyone had their burdens, after all.
At the far edge of the banquet, the trio stopped near a tall window. Beyond the glass stretched the city nightscape, glittering like a field of jewels.
Yōko sipped her wine delicately before turning to Senya with a pointed remark:
"What you saw just now—think of it as an extra lesson, beyond piano."
"…Huh?" Senya blinked.
"That sort of situation—learning to approach others, to close the distance—that's an essential skill in life. To connect with someone, you must first understand them. Know their interests, their history… only then can you speak to the heart."
He understood her meaning well enough. Though part of him wanted to say, "I figured that out years ago when I tried it on a certain twin-tailed girl," outwardly he only nodded with an enlightened expression.
"Ah, I see."
"Hmph."
Kasuga, Yōko's daughter, gave a short, dismissive snort before storming off.
"Where are you going?" Senya asked.
"Bathroom!" she shot back without turning.
"…What was that about?"
"She's not angry at you," Yōko said, shoulders lifting in a half-shrug. "She's angry at me. I'm the target she's been striving to catch up to all her life. And so, seeing me lower myself to connect with a pianist weaker than she is… it must have been unbearable."
Senya's lips curved faintly. "That does sound like Kasuga. But it's fine. She can't yet grasp how harsh life really is. Once she grows older, matures a bit, she'll understand that all of this—your effort, your compromises—is ultimately for her sake too."
Yōko studied him quietly until his smile turned uneasy. Finally, she sighed.
"You're far too considerate. That kindness is good, but don't give it so freely to everyone. With me and Kasuga, it's fine. But with others—it'll only invite misunderstanding."
The thought, at least, she kept to herself.
When Kasuga returned, her irritation cooled, Yōko led them around to meet several well-known figures from the piano world, even making appearances before the press.
By eight-forty, the three of them left the hall together.
"Bang!"
The moment Senya stepped through his own front door, his parents and sisters set off party poppers.
Colorful streamers and shining confetti rained down around him.
"Congratulations on winning runner-up!" they chorused, four bright voices overlapping.
Surrounded by those smiles, Senya's chest warmed. Half of his drive had always been for himself. The other half—for them.
"I'm home," he said, smiling deeply.
Two competitions in such quick succession were finally behind him. Now, at last, he could rest. Catch up on the homework he'd neglected over spring break. School would be starting again in just a few days.
Meanwhile, across the city, in the Shinomiya residence—
Kaguya had retired early, exhausted from the day.
Hayasaka Ai, after briefing the staff on tomorrow's schedule, finally returned to her own room. It was already half past eleven.
But rest was still far away.
She patted her cheeks lightly, steadying herself, then connected to the main house to deliver her report on every detail of Kaguya's day.
By the time it ended, the clock was nearing midnight.
She showered quickly, dragged her weary body into bed, and leaned against the headboard with her phone.
Once, she used to watch videos of industrial shredders pulverizing objects—her odd way of easing stress. But lately, her tastes had shifted.
On her screen now played footage of a rising kendo prodigy, dispatching opponent after opponent in clean, decisive strikes.
Watching him win with such sharp finality… it was strangely soothing.
Ai's lips softened unconsciously. Remembering her brief brush with him tonight, her thoughts lulled into something gentler. And with that, drowsiness pulled her under.
By dawn, at just past five, she was awake as usual.
Later that morning, around nine, while accompanying Kaguya at a flower arrangement lesson, Ai received word from the main house.
Kaguya's father was displeased with her recent performance in the piano competition. He ordered that her current teacher be dismissed and replaced immediately.
From now on, Ai was to ensure that Kaguya devoted herself even more seriously to practice—without a shred of slack.
Ai's lips tightened. Inwardly, she cursed.
Old bastard. Just die already.
Try forcing yourself through a week of endless lessons in different subjects, and see how it feels!
But there was nothing she could do.
Both her parents were senior executives of the Shinomiya Conglomerate. She herself was a maid. Against that weight, she had no power to change things.
An hour later, the flower arrangement lesson ended.
Pouring tea, Ai quietly informed her mistress:
"Milady, your current piano teacher won't be able to continue lessons."
"…What happened? Did something occur?"
"It seems… due to family circumstances, she can no longer spare the time. She was left with no choice but to resign."
That was the lie Ai chose. Better her mistress think this, than feel crushed by her father's cruelty.
"I see… then it can't be helped," Kaguya sighed.
"I'll do my best to find another teacher quickly. When the time comes, you may choose from the candidates."
"Thank you, Ai."
"There's no need for thanks, milady."
"How many times have I said it now? When it's just us, there's no need for such formality." Kaguya poured a second cup and handed it to her maid. "Speaking of teachers… do you remember the woman we met yesterday—Touma Yōko?"
Ai stilled, the word "friend" echoing in her mind with a pang of guilt. She lowered her gaze to the porcelain cup in her hands.
"…You wish to ask her to become your teacher?"
Kaguya nodded, but soon shook her head again with a soft sigh. "No… it's impossible. She's a world-class pianist with countless awards. She already has her daughter to guide. She wouldn't have time for someone else."
Ai shook her head firmly. "If it's your wish, then it's worth at least trying. Leave it to me. A maid's duty is to fulfill her lady's needs. I'll find the opportunity to visit her myself."
"Eh? But I still have her card. Wouldn't it be easier to just call?"
"That wouldn't be proper. She would be your teacher, not your servant. Showing sincerity matters."
Besides, Yōko's stature was formidable. Even the Shinomiya family could not simply command her.
And most of all—
This wasn't only for her mistress's sake.
In Ai's heart, another, more private hope quietly stirred.
..
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