Chapter 115: The Pendant Gambit

The near-disaster with the display stand becomes the defining moment of the day. For Aiwa, it is a crucial piece of evidence. My instinctive, protective reaction was so similar to the memory of the boy in the park that her suspicion hardens into a near certainty. It has to be me. But she still needs definitive proof.

For Rina and Haruka, the incident is a declaration of war. They saw me save LUNA. They saw the look on LUNA's face. They are convinced that LUNA orchestrated the entire thing as a ploy to get my attention, a damsel-in-distress routine. My attempts to explain that it was just an accident fall on deaf ears.

The rest of the exhibition is excruciating. Rina and Haruka escalate their passive-aggressive warfare, both against LUNA and against each other in their renewed battle for my loyalty. LUNA, rattled by the near-exposure and her own dawning certainty about my identity, struggles to maintain her perfect facade. I am trapped in the middle, a human ping-pong ball bouncing between three incredibly powerful, emotionally unstable cosplay goddesses.

As the event is winding down, Aiwa decides it is time for her final move. She needs one last test, one definitive piece of proof. She needs to see my reaction to the ultimate symbol of our shared past: the pendant.

She waits for a lull, when the crowds are thinning and Rina and Haruka are distracted by their final fan interactions. She walks over to my handler station behind Rina's booth. I tense up, bracing myself for another awkward encounter.

She does not say anything. She just holds out her hand. In her palm lies the small, crystalline star pendant.

"Hinamata-kun," she says, her voice the soft, shy whisper of Aiwa. "I seem to have… lost this earlier. Did you happen to see where it went?"

It is a blatant, transparent lie. The pendant is clearly right there in her hand. This is not about finding a lost item. This is a test. She is showing me the pendant, the symbol of our childhood promise, and waiting for my reaction.

My heart stops. My mind races. This is it. The moment of truth. If I acknowledge the pendant's significance, if I show any sign of recognition beyond simple politeness, the game is over. She will know.

But if I lie again… if I pretend it means nothing… I will see that same look of profound disappointment in her eyes. I will crush that small spark of hope she has been clinging to for a decade.

I look at the pendant in her hand. I look up at her face, at her wide, hopeful, terrified eyes. And I cannot do it. I cannot lie to her again.

I reach out, my own hand trembling slightly, and gently close her fingers around the pendant. "You should be more careful with it," I say softly, my voice barely a whisper. "A hero's promise is not something to be lost."

The world stops.

Aiwa just stares at me, her eyes filling with tears. It is not the vague "he must have been a great kid" comment from before. It is specific. A hero's promise. It is the exact phrase I used, the phrase burned into her memory.

It is the confirmation she has been searching for.

"It… it is you," she whispers, her voice choked with a decade's worth of emotion.

Before I can respond, before I can deal with the catastrophic implications of my admission, a sharp voice cuts through the air.

"What is going on here?"

Rina is standing right behind me, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. Haruka is right beside her, her expression equally hostile. They have finished with their fans. They have seen Aiwa approach me. They have seen the intense, emotional look on our faces. They have seen me touch her hand.

They do not know what was said. They do not know about the pendant or the promise. All they see is me, sharing an intimate, tearful moment with their greatest rival.

"Rui," Rina says, her voice dangerously calm. "Explain. Now."

I look from Rina's furious face to Haruka's suspicious one, then back to Aiwa's tear-streaked, utterly bewildered expression. I have just confirmed a decade-old secret to one girl, only to be immediately caught in what looks like a deeply compromising situation by the other two.

My life is officially a five-alarm dumpster fire. And I am holding the match.