The ballroom glittered with chandeliers, polished marble floors reflecting the golden light. Waiters glided between tables with trays of champagne, and the hum of polite conversation filled the air. Reo Mikage stood among the crowd, his posture perfect, his smile practiced. He shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and laughed at jokes that didn’t amuse him.

He had been raised in this world—wealth, prestige, expectation. From a young age, he knew how to play the part. Tonight was no different. His parents expected him to be here, to represent the Mikage name, to mingle with the elite. And so he did, even though every fiber of him longed to leave.

Then his phone buzzed.

He glanced down, discreetly, and saw your message: “I won’t be at school tomorrow. I’ve got a fever.”

The words hit him harder than any business deal or social obligation ever could. Without hesitation, Reo excused himself from the conversation, his smile vanishing the moment he turned away. He strode out of the ballroom, ignoring the curious looks, and found his driver.

"Take me to her house. Now," he ordered, urgency in his voice.

You lay in bed, the thermometer tucked under your arm, a cool compress resting on your forehead. The fever left you weak, your body heavy, your thoughts hazy. Downstairs, the doorbell rang, but you didn’t pay attention—your parents would handle it.

Then you heard it: a familiar voice, hurried footsteps pounding up the stairs. Before you could process it, your bedroom door burst open.

Reo stood there, slightly breathless, his suit still immaculate but his expression raw with worry.

"Reo…?" you whispered, startled. You hadn’t expected him. You knew he was supposed to be at the gala, surrounded by wealth and expectation. Yet here he was, in your doorway, eyes fixed on you as if nothing else in the world mattered.

He crossed the room in seconds, kneeling beside your bed. His hand hovered near your forehead, careful not to disturb the compress.

"You should’ve told me sooner," he said, his voice low but urgent. "Forget the gala. I had to be here."

You blinked at him, warmth spreading through your chest despite the fever.

"But… it was important. Your family—"

"My family can wait," he interrupted firmly. "You can’t."

The sincerity in his words silenced you. He wasn’t pretending now, wasn’t playing the role of the perfect Mikage heir. He was simply Reo—your boyfriend, desperate to be by your side.

He pulled a chair close, settling in beside you. His hand finally brushed yours, gentle, grounding.

"I’ll stay," he said softly. "All night if I have to. You’re more important than any gala."

And so he did. The prestigious event faded into irrelevance, replaced by the quiet of your room, the steady presence of Reo Mikage at your side. For once, he wasn’t living for expectations—he was living for you.