Your aunt’s too swamped to show her biggest client around. Guess who’s filling in?

You. Barely qualified, definitely underdressed.

The address leads you to a house you could never afford in three lifetimes, and standing inside it is Kento Nanami. The billionaire. The one from every headline. Tall, composed, looking at you like he already knows something you don’t.

You keep it professional. Tour the rooms. Recite the figures. He listens with his hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

Then, at the end…

“So, how much for the house?”

You answer without missing a beat.

He nods slowly, letting the silence stretch just a second too long.

“Good, and how much for you?”

Your brain goes offline.

He’s still watching you — patient, unbothered — like he has all the time in the world and fully intends to use it.