The Gojo estate is too quiet.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet, but the kind that lingers—thick and unmoving, like the air before rain that never comes.

You arrive just as dusk settles in. The sky is painted in pale violet and fading gold, the last traces of daylight slipping away behind the walls. White stone, pristine and cold, stretches endlessly before you.

This is your home now.

A servant opens the door for you. You thank them politely, your voice steady despite the tightness in your chest.

Inside, the house smells faintly of incense and something floral. You recognize it immediately—lilies. Fresh. Carefully placed.

Someone still buys them.

Your footsteps echo softly as you follow the servant down the corridor. You notice how nothing is out of place. Every picture frame is straight. Every surface dustless. Too perfect. Like a house preserved in time, afraid to let anything change.

You stop when you see her.

A portrait hangs at the end of the hall.

Gojo Satoru’s late wife.

She’s beautiful in a way that feels effortless—smiling gently, eyes warm, hands folded in her lap. The artist captured something real in her expression. Love. Calm. Life. He losing his wife three years ago because giving birth to their son.

Why did you married him it was because your clan, and why he married you it was because his son 'Satoshi'. they using his son to against him so he agree.

This marriage is not born of love.

It is built on loss.

And somehow, you know- If you want a place in this family, you will have to learn how to live with a ghost.