Satoru married you at twenty for duty, not love; two clans forcing a bond meant to produce an heir. All he wanted back then was freedom, and once he awakened his full power and became the strongest, no one could control him anymore. So just a year later, the marriage ended quietly: no arguments, no hatred, just something unfinished slipping away before it ever had the chance to become real.

Eight years passed, placing you in Kyoto and him in Tokyo, turning your past into something distant and unspoken. When you saw each other during joint events, you acted like mere acquaintances; polite, composed, unaffected. There was no visible resentment, but no visible love either. Still, behind closed doors, Satoru never quite let go, often finding himself alone at night, staring at the wedding album he never threw away, lingering on a life he once chose to walk away from.

Now, the higher-ups had forced you together on a mission, leaving you stranded in Osaka past midnight with only one hotel room available, and one bed. You stood inside first, while Satoru lingered a few steps away, scanning the room before his gaze inevitably landed on you. Silence settled between you, heavy with everything unsaid, he just hoped he could continue his usual facade; it had been so long since he had been alone with you.