Epilogue: Then I Woke Up

Akira floated in the haze of a dream.

It was a good dream. It was one he knew he’d want to live in for the rest of his life. 

There was a comforting weight on his chest, and when he looked up, he thought he saw a black-haired angel.

The angel in question had taken his hands, guiding them gently but firmly above his head. He felt some soft strand surround them, binding them in place.

Was he being cuffed?

“It’s the least I deserve, anyway,” he murmured. “For what I did to her.”

The angel smiled, her touch drifting lower. She went down his chest, her fingers tracing the line of his ribs.

He would have stayed in that dream forever if the angel hadn’t spoken.

“Wake up.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a command. And who was he to disobey someone as beautiful and perfect as that?

He tried to lift his hands to rub the sleep from his eyes, but they wouldn't move. Something was binding his wrists to the mahogany headboard.

It felt smooth. ‘Was that silk?’

Panic spiked through his grogginess. A kidnapping? Him being held hostage? How preposterous!

Watari would never let this happen unless… unless something had happened to him as well.

But why wasn’t he gagged? Why didn’t he have a blindfold on? As those thoughts and more whirled around his addled mind, the same angelic voice from his dream cut through the whirlwind. And it said, “Hey, Prince.”

His heart slammed against his ribs. Who could it be other than her?

But how? It didn’t make sense!

He blinked, the blurry figure sharpening into focus.

Straddling his hips, perfectly poised, was Sato Hayami.

“Don’t struggle,” she murmured, her hands pressing down on his forearms. “It’s easier that way. Well, you could break out if you wanted to. But it’d ruin the experience.”

Akira’s eyes snapped wide open.

She had pinned him.

He tugged experimentally and realized his hands were bound with one of his own Charvet ties—the navy blue one.

The knot was pathetic. If he really wanted to, he could rip his hands free in a second.

But he didn't. He was far too intrigued—and overwhelmingly attracted—to the woman currently pinning him to his own bed.

“Hayami?” his voice came out as a rasp. “What are you doing here? How are you in my bedroom?”

“Well… it’s a secret. And a little employee prank never hurt anyone…”

He grunted once. “Watari…”

Akira closed his eyes. He opened them again once he realized something important. 

“But wait, I thought… that video…” He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, sure this was a hallucination. “What you said made sense,” he said. “You didn’t deserve what happened to us.”

“What happened to us? No, no, no. What you did to us.”

Akira was now thoroughly confused. “I thought you knew I don’t have control over my life, Hayami, not really—”

“You chose to listen to Rocketblast,” she interjected. “You picked a side. One that’d better benefit your career over your own relationships. And I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that. But you can’t have your cake and eat it too. You’re someone who cannot take responsibility, and I won’t kiss a man with the emotional intelligence of a damn puppy.”

Akira’s eyes widened, calling back to a conversation he remembered having with Hayami weeks ago.

“You like control, Akira,” she whispered, leaning forward. Her hair fell around them like a curtain, cutting off the rest of the world. “That’s what I’ve realized about you. You like managing everything. My schedule. My safety. My feelings. You’re a control freak.”

She shifted her weight, her thighs squeezing his sides. His heart began to hammer against his ribs, and he doubted that it wasn’t loud enough for her to feel it as well.

“So I’m curious. What happens when you lose it?”

She ran a fingertip down his throat.

“Right now, you’re not a K-pop idol. You can’t even call yourself a prince. You’re just a man in a bed, tied up with his own vanity. How can you be a prince, a future ruler of his kingdom, when he likes that he isn’t in control?”

“Is this… revenge?” he choked out. Hayami had a mountain of reasons for why she would enact it, after all.

“Maybe,” she replied shortly after.

Then Hayami leaned lower. Her breath ghosted softly against his lips. Even her air smelled good.

“Do you want me to kiss you, Akira?” she said softly.

“Yes,” he admitted instantly. He strained upward, testing the loose knot, lifting his head from the pillow. “Yes. Please.”

“Why should I?”

“Because… because I’m a hopelessly confused boy who’s spent half his life not knowing what he wants. But now I can clearly see that… what I want is right in front of me.”

For a second, Hayami’s eyes shifted. Her plans were almost foiled then and there. Almost being the operative word.

“Then beg,” she replied.

“Kiss me,” Akira pleaded. “Hayami, please. I’ll do… I’ll do anything.”

She smiled, but the curve of her lips felt playful still. Akira didn’t care what she was plotting. She closed her eyes and leaned in.

Akira closed his eyes too. He felt the warmth of her skin. He prepared for the contact, and every damn muscle in his body strained and twitched in response. His heart felt like it’d beat out of his chest.

So he waited.

And waited.

Suddenly, the weight on his chest vanished.

Akira’s eyes flew open.

Hayami was standing by the side of the bed, smoothing down her skirt. Her expression was so cruel.

“Too bad,” she said flatly.

Akira blinked, “W-What?”

“I almost forgot,” she said, tapping her chin. “You’re engaged.”

The air left the room.

“Hayami, that’s fake! You know it’s fake—we both know that…”

“Does the world know it’s fake?” she interrupted. “Does Veronica herself know? She’s a sweet girl. Would you burn the entire world and burn a sweet girl like her, just for a kiss from an otaku addict like me? How disgusting.”

She gestured to the tie loosely binding his wrists.

“I don’t kiss another woman’s man, Akira. I’ve got standards, even if you don’t.”

She turned on her heel and walked toward the door.

“When you realize just what kind of mess you’re in, working that kind of job… maybe you’ll have a chance. You have to clean it up. Goodbye, prince.”

“...Wait.”

Akira panicked. He yanked his hands down. The silk knot, which had been barely holding together, slipped apart instantly.

He scrambled out of bed, tripping over the sheets, ignoring the fact that he was only in his boxers.

“Hayami, wait!”

He lunged for the door, tearing it open and sprinting into the hallway.

“Hayami!!!”

He skidded into the living room.

But the room was empty.

The front door to the penthouse was just clicking shut.

She was gone.

Akira stood there, shirtless, panting, clutching the navy blue tie in his fist.

“I am in so much trouble,” Akira realized. Not from any immediate danger, no.

He wasn’t sure he had the impulse control necessary to follow through with his agency’s plans.

\\

The morning felt refreshing. Camping all night in someone else’s bedroom was not comfortable in the slightest.

Hayami picked up the pace.

"You defended my hobbies in front of the world," she mused to herself, walking into the train station. "You saved me from shame... but you didn't solve the root cause. Even your butler, bless his heart, thought that you needed to wake up to that fact.”

She swiped her public transport card down the aisle.

"You may have trapped me with your 4D chess from the start. You may have played with my heart, it’s true. But I got one back this time.”

The train was about to depart, but not for her. She stepped on.