Volume 3 Prologue: The Perfect Daughter

Sometimes, I wonder what it feels like to just...live.

Not as the class rep, a student council president, the untouchable girl who always has the right answer, the right posture, the right smile.

The Takamine Shizuku everyone got accustomed to seeing in the class.

Maybe living as just Shizuku, without the noble surname.

Just me, and whatever I want myself to be.

I’ve never known that kind of freedom.

Because from the moment I could walk, I was being prepared.

Molded.

Polished.

Not for life—but for expectations.

There are eyes on me everywhere—at school, at home, even within my own thoughts. Eyes that ask me to be better, sharper, more perfect than anyone else.

I used to think it was normal as a kid. That this was just how life worked when you were born into a family like mine. When the Takamine name meant something that others either feared or respected.

Of course, you were the daughter of the country’s top businessmen and the owner of Takamine conglomerate. Why would someone cater and acknowledge a defective daughter?

The truth is, if I ever was, they’ll just disown me.

And it’s not normal.

It’s lonely.

No one sees the real me. They see the image. The mask. Even I started confusing the two after a while.

Smiling when I’m exhausted.

Praising others while my chest aches with resentment of myself.

Pretending a calmness when I’m screaming inside.

I became good at playing roles.

The brilliant student.

The composed leader.

The perfect daughter.

…But never someone who could feel like myself.

Someone who could choose.

Someone who could fall in love.

Never the someone who could cry, or scream, or just be tired of it all.

Love, they say, is a distraction. Friends? They were temporary and replaceable. Dreams? Only if they align with the family's interests.

Freedom? Dangerous. It was something not to be touched.

They have only seen what they wanted me to be, but never who I wanted myself to be.

I’ve been told my whole life that sacrifices are necessary. That I carry the Takamine legacy. That there’s no room for weakness.

And Haru…

You asked me once why I rejected you.

You thought it was because I didn’t like you.

Because I didn’t care.

You were wrong.

I cared more than you’ll ever know.

But liking you wouldn’t have saved me.

It would’ve destroyed you.

You were the first person who looked at me and didn’t see an achievement. You didn’t see a project, a rival or an ideal.

On the short days we spent together talking about life in the school library, I know you just saw me as myself.

And for a moment, I wanted to believe that was enough for me to break through my own chains.

But it wasn’t.

Because I was never allowed to choose.

Not who I love. Not what I want to become. Not even the life I’m living now.

It was all decided for me.

My family believes that there's only one path in life: success.

And even if I reach it, I know what’ll be waiting for me at the end.

A hollow crown? Maybe.

A quiet house? Always.

A version of myself that’s completely unrecognizable? Mostly.

They’ll say I made them proud.

But will I even know who I am by then?

Will I look back and realize I gave up everything just to meet someone else’s standards?

I don’t know.

It makes me tired just to think of what awaits me there.

So damn tired.

My future is predetermined. And whatever I will try to do to snap out of it, they will inevitably drag me back on the assembly line.

So I can’t stop.

I can’t afford to fall behind.

Because if I do, it’s not just my future at risk—it’s my family’s, my name, my image.

And images don’t bleed. They just crack. Quietly. Invisibly.

So no, I didn’t reject you because I didn’t want you. I rejected you because I had to.

Because someone like me doesn’t get to choose love.

We only get to choose how well we can fake not needing it.

But even if I can’t say it out loud, even if I can’t have it the way I want...

Just know this:

You were never part of the problem.

You were the one piece of honesty I was never allowed to keep.