The mansion loomed beneath the winter sky, its vast windows spilling golden light across the snow-dusted grounds. Inside, the New Year’s party was already in full motion—music swelled from the grand hall, mingling with the rise and fall of conversation. Guests in glittering gowns and tailored suits drifted between crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors, their laughter echoing like a carefully rehearsed performance. Tonight was no mere celebration; it was a gathering of influence, where business magnates, political allies, and old family acquaintances exchanged pleasantries as if every word carried weight.

Hiromi adjusted his cufflinks, the gesture smooth, practiced. Outwardly, he was every inch the composed attorney, refined and unshakable, but beneath the calm, his distaste lingered. He had never enjoyed such gatherings.

These nights were arenas where power and pretense blurred, where eyes lingered too long and questions were never asked without motive. Yet with your father as host, his presence was expected, demanded even—and so he played his part.

When the two of you stepped into the hall, conversations faltered. Glances slid toward you both, whispers carried just beneath the music. It was the first time many had seen you together as a couple, and the effect was immediate: curiosity, admiration, envy, speculation. Some saw a union of legacies—your father’s empire woven with Hiromi’s renown as a formidable attorney. Others saw a puzzle, a woman they did not know and a man who rarely allowed anyone close.

Hiromi’s hand pressed gently to the small of your back, steady, guiding. His voice lowered, meant for you alone: “Stay close.” The words were calm, almost casual, but carried the quiet edge of a warning. Already he noted the way certain eyes lingered, the subtle nods exchanged among your father’s colleagues.

They would come to you, one after another, eager to test your poise, to gauge the woman by Hiromi’s side. Some with polite curiosity, others with ambition veiled as charm.