One day—
Out of the blue, a message arrived from Yuzuru.
I want to talk, so let me know when you’re free.
After finishing the dishes, Arisa replied.
Now would be fine.
And almost immediately her phone rang.
It was an invitation to a summer festival.
So… that’s the situation. What do you think? It’s not like there are tickets or anything this time—this was more like a suggestion my father came up with. If you have plans, you can turn it down.
Unlike the pool outing, a summer festival only happens at a specific time on that specific day.
Which meant an excuse like I already have something I absolutely can’t miss… would work.
A summer festival… Will there be fireworks?
Even so, compared to the pool, a festival felt like a much lower psychological hurdle.
And if she could see beautiful fireworks, she was a little curious.
Yeah… you’ll be able to see them. It’s a fairly decent-sized show.
When was the last time she had gone to a summer festival?
Maybe not since elementary school.
Then I’ll gladly accept the invitation.
Thanks… Also, my little sister and my mother want to meet you. Would that be alright?
Ah, yes. I understand.
After deciding on the meeting place and time, Arisa ended the call.
Then she returned to the living room to report it.
“Who was on the phone?”
The first person to ask was her adoptive father.
Naoki.
He had a newspaper spread open and didn’t even bother to look at her—but his tone was firm, leaving no room for argument.
“It was Takasegawa Yuzuru. …He invited me to a summer festival next week.”
“And you accepted?”
“Yes.”
The moment Arisa answered, her adoptive mother—Amagi Emi—clicked her tongue softly.
Her expression was openly displeased.
And then—
“Oh my, oh my… someone’s gotten quite flirtatious.”
She said it in a single cutting remark.
Emi, who was technically Arisa’s aunt, had never gotten along with Arisa’s mother—her own younger sister.
Because of that, she disliked Arisa as well.
It was Emi, her adoptive mother, who made snide remarks at Arisa, bullied her, and occasionally raised a hand against her.
“You shouldn’t say things like that in the house—”
“On the contrary, it would be troublesome if she didn’t start showing some charm.”
Naoki said this in a cold voice.
At that single remark, Emi fell silent.
Naoki was often away from home for work, leaving all housework and childrearing to Emi. At first glance, it might seem as though she sat at the top of the household hierarchy.
Yet strangely enough, she never defied Naoki.
“This marriage arrangement is extremely important—for the Amagi family and for Arisa. I believe I’ve explained that many times.”
“…Understood, Naoki-san.”
Even so, Emi still looked dissatisfied.
Unlike Naoki, who was Arisa’s adoptive father, Emi—her adoptive mother—was opposed to the marriage arrangement.
Of course, it wasn’t out of concern for Arisa.
It was something Arisa couldn’t empathize with at all…
But apparently Emi couldn’t stand the thought that her niece—who looked just like the younger sister she had hated—would marry into the wealthy Takasegawa family, to a handsome, refined, and gentle-looking young man.
In short, she probably just hated the idea of Arisa becoming happy.
Arisa didn’t know what had happened between Emi and her mother, but from her perspective, it was simply unfair.
“Speaking of which, do you have a yukata?”
Naoki asked suddenly.
Arisa shook her head.
“No, I don’t.”
“You weren’t planning to go in regular clothes, were you?”
“…Would that have been a problem?”
“He’s the son of an old-fashioned, tradition-bound family. He’ll probably be wearing a yukata. Were you planning to walk beside him in Western clothes?”
Naoki said it with clear exasperation.
Now that he mentioned it, the image really would look ridiculous.
It would practically be putting herself on display.
As Arisa shrank in embarrassment, Naoki silently stood up.
He went to the dresser, took out his wallet, and pulled out five ten-thousand-yen bills.
Then he placed them on the table.
“Use this to buy one. Keep whatever is left as spending money.”
“Th-thank you… very much.”
Timidly, Arisa accepted the money.
To Arisa, Naoki was far more frightening than Emi, who abused her.
Naoki had never raised a hand against her, nor had he said cruel things.
If anything, when Emi went too far, he would scold her—or even defend Arisa.
In fact, Emi rarely struck Arisa when Naoki was present.
And yet—
At the same time, he seemed almost completely indifferent to her.
At least, that was how it looked to Arisa.
Compared to someone who openly directed hatred towards her, someone whose thoughts she couldn’t read—yet who was the most powerful figure in the household—was far more terrifying.
The fact that he was an adult man with absolutely no blood relation to her only intensified that fear.
“Naoki-san, spoiling her like that is—”
“It’s a necessary expense.”
The only thing Naoki truly cared about was the reputation of his household.
More precisely, he hated anything that might harm his business because of it.
“Arisa. You were the one who wished for this marriage arrangement.”
“Yes. …I understand.”
Arisa had told Yuzuru that she had been forced to accept the matchmaking.
But that explanation had been—just slightly—conveniently embellished for her own sake.
Her adoptive father Naoki had only said to her—“There are several marriage proposals. Would you like to meet them?”
So the one who answered—“Yes, I’ll try a meeting”—had been Arisa herself.
She had simply been too afraid of Naoki to refuse.
After that, Naoki continued bringing her one proposal after another.
Arisa, who never wanted to marry in the first place, kept turning them down.
From Emi’s perspective, she must have looked like a selfish, arrogant woman who was picky about men.
She couldn’t refuse any longer.
Just when she was at a loss—
She finally met Yuzuru.
“Handle it well. For your own sake.”
“Yes.”
Was he saying that because he genuinely wanted to support Arisa’s romance?
Or was it a threat—“If this engagement falls apart… you’ll have nothing left?”
Or was there some entirely different intention behind it?
Arisa didn’t know.
And that uncertainty—
Was simply terrifying.
