“New Self”

The apartment itself was a testament to her quiet, unexpected success. Gone was the cramped, vulnerable unit she had fled. This new space, secured in a quiet, high-rise building, felt solid and unshakeable. It was the apartment of a grown woman who had reclaimed her time and her narrative.

Airi stood in the center of the living room, smoothing the fabric of a simple, tailored black dress. She no longer dressed in the muted grays and beiges of corporate archiving. Her clothes now reflected the quiet confidence of someone who created their own rules.

Her gaze drifted toward the corner of the room, a veritable feline throne. Neko was perched majestically on the top tier of a colossal, multi-story cat tree, a ridiculously elaborate structure covered in soft beige carpet and sisal rope. It wasn’t just large; it was fancy. Neko, having suffered the indignity of a paparazzi-induced panic attack, was now living a life of pampered luxury, fitting for a cat of her distinction.

The air of the apartment was charged with an energy Airi recognized: anticipation. Not the frantic anxiety of an impending deadline, but the exciting, nervous buzz of a highly anticipated event.

Airi smiled to herself, thinking back on the journey. When Ren and she had publicly confirmed their relationship; a carefully managed release of photos that framed them as artists and collaborators, not scandal fodder, the immediate response had been deafening. But Airi had done the one thing no one expected of her: she had started making her own noise.

Utilizing the momentum of the scandal, Saki who works with famous clients now after having happily quit her corporate marketing job) had pushed Airi to release an EP of her own songs. The songs were raw, honest, and filled with the defiant energy born from betrayal and fear.

The public had responded not to the scandal, but to the authenticity of the music. Airi Komatsu was now, in her own right, a little celebrity. She wasn’t selling out stadiums like Ren, but she had a dedicated, passionate following of her own fans who related to her story of leaving a suffocating job for a creative passion.

They were the opposite of Ren's initial obsessive crowd; they were fiercely protective of Airi's space and revered her as a talented, relatable singer-writer. Because she had her own fans, the majority of the "crazy fans" from Ren’s camp had finally stepped off. They couldn’t successfully target someone who had their own audience; the negative energy simply bounced off her newfound shield of success and stability.

She walked over to the kitchen counter, grabbing her keys and a small clutch bag. She paused, catching her reflection in the sleek surface of the stainless steel refrigerator. Her eyes looked lighter, her posture straighter.

Singer-writer. The title still felt slightly foreign, but wonderfully right. She was doing what she knew best: channeling emotion into structured, lyrical sound. She knew she still couldn’t sing amazingly—her voice was more expressive and clear than powerful or technically perfect, but she was delighted. She was earning her living, writing the truth, and she was glad that she could love her life doing what she knows best. Her phone vibrated sharply on the counter, displaying a notification that pulled her out of her reflection.

CALENDAR ALERT: REN'S CONCERT START: T-MINUS 30 MINUTES! (Airi, you’re late! The traffic is going to be hell!)

A wave of affectionate haste washed over her. She smiled, shaking her head. Ren’s biggest comeback concert in nearly a year—a massive, sold-out event—and she, his official partner and collaborator, was running late.

She walked over to the cat tree, its sheer size dwarfing the corner of the room. Neko, the pampered queen, opened one golden eye lazily, purring deeply from her royal perch.

Airi reached up and gently scratched the cat under the chin. Neko’s purr rumbled louder, a continuous engine of domestic bliss.

"I have to go, my princess," Airi whispered, bending down to lightly kiss Neko on the head. "Go watch the lights from the window. I'll bring you back something from the souvenir shop, though I doubt they'll have tuna-flavored cat toys."

Neko gave a small, satisfied mew—a sound that always translated to, Bring back my human, and ensure the apartment remains quiet.

Airi straightened up, grabbed her clutch, and took one last look around the safe, beautiful space she had earned. She had lost her safety net, but she had gained an entire new world built on her own terms. The fear was gone. The resentment was gone. All that remained was excitement for the future.

She walked purposefully across the hardwood floor, her footsteps echoing slightly in the large, quiet space.

Airi put her hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath of the calm, secure air of her home, and then headed out the door, ready to step into the dazzling, loud, yet now controllable, chaos of her life. She was no longer running from the idol's world; she was walking into it, side by side, as an equal.