Chapter 3: Please Teach Me How to Smile Properly

That day, I went in expecting our next client to bring another tedious tale of unrequited love.

I was dead wrong.

A girl sat at the far end of the room, tucked away in the shadows. Her long blue hair fell in a straight, frozen cascade past her shoulders. Her eyes were a sharp emerald green, yet they felt utterly hollow. Her expression was flat—far too stoic for someone her age.

Her name was Rena Mitsurugi.

“Please... teach me how to smile properly.”

The request plunged the room into a sudden, heavy silence. Touma blinked twice in disbelief. Kurumi tilted her head, her usual cheerful aura flickering for a moment. I just stared at her, my reaction as dry as ever.

“You didn’t come here because of a broken heart?” I asked.

Rena shook her head slowly. “I don’t know if I’ve ever truly smiled in my life.”

A beat of silence followed.

Learning how to smile? This was a first for the club. We usually dealt with the wreckage of feelings between two people, not the absence of feeling within one.

“Why do you want to learn?” Kurumi asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

“Because someone told me my face is terrifying. Even animals run away when I try to smile.”

Touma sat up straight, his eyes wide. “Seriously? Even animals?!”

I let out a weary sigh. “Fine. Let's see it. Show us your smile.”

Rena fixed her gaze on me. A few seconds passed in agonizing stillness. Then, the corners of her lips began to twitch upward.

The smile appeared.

And in an instant, the atmosphere in the room curdled.

It was too precise. Too controlled. Too... sharp.

Kurumi shivered visibly. “W-wait a minute...”

Touma took an instinctive step back. “I feel like I’ve just been marked by a final boss...”

I kept my eyes on Rena, unmoved. “That’s not a smile.”

Rena blinked, her expression returning to its default state. “It’s not?”

“It’s the expression of someone who’s hiding a knife behind their back.”

“I don’t understand.”

I leaned back into my chair. “Smiling isn't about the mechanics of your facial muscles.” I paused to let the words sink in. “It’s about the reason.”

“A reason?”

“Yeah. Something that actually makes your heart stir.”

Rena fell silent. Her gaze didn't waver, but it remained empty. I realized then that this wasn't a technical failure. It was a heart that had been denied the right to feel for far too long.

We spent the rest of the day trying everything. Kurumi demonstrated her "angelic" smile. Touma tried a "friendly" grin that looked more like a scam artist's pitch. Rena tried again. And again. But that jagged, threatening aura always returned.

“I suppose... I really won't ever be able to smile,” she said, her voice dropping into a quiet, resigned tone.

“Nonsense,” I snapped. “Anyone can do it.”

“But I don’t know what happiness feels like.”

Her words hit me like a physical weight. The room went cold.

“What was it that made you stop?” I asked.

Rena looked down at her lap. “Nothing.”

I was about to give up, but then she continued.

“The truth is... I just want to feel happy. But I have no idea what that looks like.”

I took a slow breath, trying to steady my own thoughts. “If that’s the case, let's go find it.”

“Find it?”

“We’re going to the park.”

Kurumi jumped. “H-huh?! Is this—is this like a date?!”

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re coming too.”

“Why me?!”

“Because having only Touma there would be a disaster.”

The park was deserted that evening, bathed in a pale, dying orange light. Rena stopped in front of the swing set. The evening breeze brushed against the chains, making them groan softly.

Creeeeak... creeeeak...

“...Higher, Papa.”

Her voice was a mere whisper, thin and brittle. Kurumi looked at me, but I remained silent.

Rena’s gaze wasn't fixed on the playground in front of us. She was staring into the past. Her hands, which had been resting on the fence, slowly clenched into fists. There was something inside her—a dam about to burst.

Suddenly, a black sedan screeched to a halt at the curb. The door swung open, and a middle-aged man stepped out with heavy, commanding strides.

“Rena!”

“Father...” she froze.

“Why aren't you waiting at the campus? Get in the car. We’re going home. You still have reports to finish.”

Reports. Here, standing before a place clearly haunted by her memories, all he could think about was work. I felt a surge of heat beneath my skin. I stepped forward.

“Wait a minute.”

The man glared at me. “Who are you?”

“A friend from college.”

“A friend?” His tone turned sharp. “Rena doesn't have time to be loitering like this.”

Kurumi grabbed my arm. “Don’t...”

But it was too late. I had seen enough.

SLAP.

The sound echoed through the quiet park.

“Everything I do is for her future!” the man roared, clutching his cheek. “I won’t have her be weak!”

“And you think she’s happy?” I barked back.

Silence returned, heavier than before. The evening wind blew cold between us.

“A child isn't a project. She isn’t a target on a spreadsheet.” I stared him down. “The most painful thing isn't the pressure or the demands.” I stopped for a second. “It’s when the person who’s supposed to understand you most... never even tries to listen.”

The man’s stern facade began to crumble. His eyes wavered.

“If you’re truly her father,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, cold hum, “then ask her just one thing.”

I turned to Rena.

“Ask her if she’s tired.”

The silence that followed felt like it lasted an eternity. The man’s gaze shifted to his daughter. Memories seemed to assault him—a small park, a younger version of himself, a little girl laughing on a swing.

When had he stopped hearing that laughter?

A single tear finally escaped his eye. “Rena... I’m sorry.”

Rena lunged forward, throwing her arms around him. “I’m sorry too, Father...”

There were no long speeches that evening. No grand declarations. Just two people finally hearing each other over the noise of their own expectations.

And for the first time—Rena smiled.

It was small. Shaky. Fragile. But it was real.

The next morning, in the campus hallway—

“Good morning, Kengo-kun.”

I turned around. Rena was there, and she was smiling. It was a normal smile. A human smile.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

I nodded. “How is your father?”

“He’s... cutting back on his work hours.”

I felt a rare sense of relief wash over me. I thought the drama was finally behind us.

“Kengo-kun!”

A voice I knew all too well rang out. I massaged my temples in anticipation of the coming headache.

“What is it now, Kurumi?”

“We have a new client!”

I stared up at the ceiling. Can I go just one day without this...

Kurumi leaned in and whispered, her breath warm against my ear. “And this time... the case is much more complicated.”

I froze.

It seemed the Heartbreak Society was never going to give me a moment of peace.