Ryōma Shinomiya

Ren Shinomiya's room was larger than the average house in Japan. It had its own movie theater, a golf simulator in one corner, and a state-of-the-art computer station that looked like the control center of a spaceship. Every item was luxurious, expensive, and unnecessary for a single person.

But none of that mattered now.

Ren was lying in bed, even though the sun had already set. He stared at the ceiling, but saw nothing. His mind was fixed on a busy sidewalk and the memory of a girl with pink hair tripping over her own shoelaces.

" Cardiac arrhythmia? " he wondered aloud, placing a hand on his chest.

I could feel it again, that warm flutter that had no logical explanation. " An allergic reaction? Social anxiety? " It was a strange feeling. One that, for the first time, I couldn't analyze.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on the door.  " Come in. " said Ren, barely turning to look at the door.

It was Naoki, his bodyguard, entering with his usual efficiency. He spoke to Ren. " Young master Ren. Your father, Mr. Ryōma, requests your presence in his office. Ren sat down, his face returning to its usual expressionless mask. " Did he mention the reason? ", " No, sir. But... " Naoki hesitated for a second. " My advice is to be careful with what you say. He didn't seem very happy, to say the least. " Ren nodded. " Thanks, Naoki. "

His father's office looked more like a fortress than an office. The walls were covered with dark wood and books that no one read. Shinomiya Ryōma sat behind a desk as big as a car. With his perfectly combed black hair and elegant glasses, he looked more like a judge than a father.

Ren entered and sat down in front of him, without saying a word. He waited.

" Naoki informed me that you disappeared again for hours yesterday. " Ryōma began, his voice calm but sharp as a knife. " And today, I hear that a photographer is investigating a man who looks like you in a public district. Did you enjoy your time 'trying out things that lower class people do'? "

Ren remained completely silent.

" It's a waste of time, Ren. " his father continued, clasping his fingers together. " More than that, it's a risk. If someone were to discover you, if the tabloid press were to see you mixing with... those people... it would be a disgrace to the Shinomiya name. "

Ryōma leaned forward. " Your little singing hobby at 'ECLIPSE' is indulgent enough. It's time you focused on what really matters. Being the heir to Shinomiya Inc. Your college grades must be perfect. Your behavior must be impeccable. You must be the best at everything, and to do that, you have to put aside these childish distractions. "

As his father spoke, the door opened and his mother, Shinomiya Ayame, entered. She was a tall, slender woman with the same gray hair and stormy eyes as Ren. " Your father is absolutely right, dear. " she said in a sing-song but arrogant voice. " You should give up this nonsense of being a singer. It's so... common and old-fashioned. It doesn't compare to the wealth, fame, and power you already have as a member of this family. "

Ren, without saying anything and with his serious attitude, simply bowed his head to show that he had listened. After a few seconds of silence, he thanked them, got up from his chair, and left.

He was about to turn the doorknob when his mother spoke again. " Oh, by the way. There's good news. The rival company, Takashima Industries, accepted the marriage proposal. " Ren froze, his hand on the cold metal. " Their daughter is a suitable young woman. You're lucky they agreed to an alliance with someone who still plays at being a pop star. Your life has just been settled. " his mother said in an authoritative tone, as if she had just closed a business deal.

Ren stood holding the doorknob, listening to the echo of those words. When his mother finished speaking, he simply opened the door and left the room, closing it gently behind him.

His face was as expressionless as ever. But in his eyes, for the first time, there was something more than just a melancholy emptiness. There was something cold, still, and deep. Like ice forming on a calm lake.