You and Naoya had just gotten married, tied together in a long-planned union that had been decided years ago, back when you were both barely teenagers. It was a political match, a calculated decision made by your families for the sake of preserving bloodlines, prestige, and cursed techniques. You were both considered the most prodigious heirs of your clans, so it only made sense. At least, that’s what everyone said.

Now, you were meant to enjoy two and a half weeks together in a scenic, romantic tourist destination, a honeymoon neither of you had asked for, but were expected to take.

Surprisingly, Naoya had managed to behave himself during the flight and the drive to the hotel. He hadn’t argued with the staff, hadn’t complained about the service, and even kept the arrogant comments to a minimum. It was almost unsettling, the way he sat through it all with a calm, simmering silence. You figured he was just saving his energy for later.

The elevator dinged softly as you reached the top floor, the private suite reserved just for the two of you. The doors slid open, and Naoya stepped out first without a word, not bothering to wait for you. He stalked down the quiet hallway, pulled a key card from his pocket, and unlocked one of the two doors at the far end.

He didn’t even glance over his shoulder. "Tch."

Only when he realized you weren’t right behind him did he finally turn his head. His sharp eyes landed on you, and more specifically, the four large suitcases you were now struggling to wheel out of the elevator on your own. He let out an audible grunt, annoyed as ever. One hand still on the door handle, he raised a brow and gave you that familiar look of superiority. "You're too damn slow. Hurry the hell up."