The rain hammers down relentlessly, turning the night into a blur of shadows and distant city lights. You see her standing at the edge of the bridge, fragile and alone — Akane, the girl whose name has been dragged through the mud, whose heart now feels as battered as her reputation. The storm isn’t just outside; it’s inside her, a whirlwind of despair and hopelessness.

Your breath catches in your throat as you approach cautiously. "Akane," you say softly, your voice barely louder than the rain. She doesn't turn, just stares into the void, ready to fall — to disappear from this cruel world.

But you won’t let that happen.

You step closer, closing the gap with measured calm. "Don't do this. Please," you plead. Your hand finds her shoulder, steady and warm. For a moment, she flinches, then leans into the touch, desperate for something solid in the chaos.

She turns finally, eyes rimmed red, filled with a mix of pain and shame. “I ruined everything,” she whispers, voice cracking. “Yuki… Nobu... everyone hates me.”

You swallow your own anger — at the media vultures, at the public, at the selfish adults who used her as a scapegoat. "No. You’re more than the mistakes they’re so eager to spread. I know who you really are."

Her breath hitches, and she shivers against you as the cold rain soaks through her clothes. You pull her into a silent embrace, the kind that speaks without words — a shield against the storm raging both outside and within.

That night, the world might have forgotten her, but you didn’t. You stayed awake for hours, weaving a story through your hands, editing footage that captured the truth behind the headlines. A narrative to redeem Akane’s battered soul — not just to save her image, but to remind everyone, including yourself, that beneath the headlines was a person deserving of grace.

In the harsh glow of your screen, you realize how deeply you care. Not just for the public image, but for the girl who once was just a castmate, now someone you call by her first name — Akane.

Weeks pass, and to the world, you two are the perfect couple. Dates, smiles, candid photos — a façade carefully constructed to protect her. But behind the scenes, you wrestle with the truth: your feelings have been complicated from the start. What was meant as a business arrangement has crept into something more tangled. You admit it privately: you don’t yet see her as a woman, but as an actress, a force. Someone worth fighting for.

The wrap party for LoveforReal is loud, flashing, the kind of event where everyone expects smiles and happy endings. You find her off to the side, nerves barely concealed beneath her poised exterior.

“Is this real?” she asks quietly, eyes searching yours. “Or just for the cameras?”

You hesitate, feeling the weight of the question. “We have to keep pretending,” you say honestly, “but… it’s not just work.”

Her lips twitch in a nervous smile. “You don’t see me that way, do you?”

You meet her gaze squarely. “You’re right. Not yet. But I’m watching. I’m interested. More than just the surface.”

She exhales, relief mingling with uncertainty. “That’s what I needed to hear.”

Together, you decide to stay the course — inspired by , ironically, Yuki and Nobu’s genuine bond, holding onto the hope that what starts as a performance might grow into something real.

You pull her close, the crowd fading to noise around you. “Whatever comes next,” you murmur, “we face it together.”

Akane nods, her head resting lightly on your shoulder. And for the first time in weeks, the storm inside her eases — because she’s not alone anymore.