“Who is that woman?” Yue’s voice crackled over the phone, laced with concern.
“She’s a singer. People say she’s famous,” Freya replied, her tone deliberately casual. “Doesn’t Caesar know that already?” She was fully aware that her grandmother’s right-hand man had been keeping a discreet eye on her. Freya had simply chosen to ignore him.
“Yes, he knows, but that’s not the point,” Yue protested. “You only met her yesterday, and tonight you’re inviting her for a private dinner. Are you out of your mind? You’re not just anyone, Freya.”
Freya exhaled deeply, feeling the weight of her grandmother’s words. As much as she hated to admit it, Yue had every reason to be worried. With her grandmother aging, speculation about Freya being chosen as the family’s successor was growing. While it might seem harmless, the assumption carried real danger. That was why she allowed her grandmother to send Caesar, one of her most trusted men, to watch over her from a distance—even though it was a constant reminder of the world she was trying to step away from.
When Freya was in middle school, she had been attacked by a group of men sent by her uncle. She had barely survived. Her uncle, like many others in the Yoshihara family, didn’t want her to take Yue’s throne. They wanted her gone, even now—despite Yue having let her choose her own path.
Allowing new people into her life at a time like this was far from ideal. Being born into a family with a diamond spoon had its perks, but the struggles were just as heavy. Nothing had been simple lately. The government was attempting to seize her mother’s artistic legacy, the Adler family still eyeing a portion of her father’s inheritance, and the Yoshihara family still wanted her dead.
But then there was Soyoung.
Freya had spent years burying memories of Mel, locking them away in the deepest parts of her heart. But Soyoung’s smile—it was disarming, familiar, yet entirely her own. There was a gentleness in it that stirred something Freya hadn’t felt in a long time. Every time Soyoung smiled, a fleeting image of Mel would flash through Freya’s mind. The resemblance wasn’t in appearance, but in the warmth, in the way Soyoung’s lips curved with a quiet confidence that spoke volumes without a word. It was a reminder of the love she lost, but also a glimpse of something new, something different.
Freya couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward Soyoung. It wasn’t just her smile. It was the way she carried herself—brave, even in the face of the public eye and the weight of her own fame. Soyoung wasn’t afraid to take up space, to be seen, to be heard. There was a boldness in her that Freya admired, a strength that made her momentarily forget the chaos of her own life.
And then there was Soyoung’s voice. When she spoke, it had a melody of its own, a softness that cut through Freya’s worries. But when she sang… Freya felt like she could breathe again. The world, with all its burdens and expectations, faded into the background, leaving only Soyoung’s voice and the quiet between them.
“Freya, are you still there?” Yue’s voice cut through her thoughts, snapping Freya back to the present.
“Yes, I’m here,” she replied, trying to sound composed.
“Just be careful,” Yue said, her voice softening slightly. “You know how dangerous it is to let people get close.”
Freya nodded to herself. “Everything is going to be okay. Don’t worry too much about it, I will call you again soon,” Freya promised her grandmother, but her mind was already back with Soyoung, the woman who—despite the risks—made her want to take that chance.
***
When Soyoung entered the restaurant, her gaze immediately found Freya standing by the table on the beach. Freya’s eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the ocean met the night sky and dissolved into an endless expanse of nothingness. She wore an oversized blue shirt that hung loosely on her frame, blending seamlessly with the twilight, and a pair of well-worn jeans that spoke of countless evenings spent in quiet contemplation.
Her bare feet sank into the cool sand, her sandals discarded without a second thought, as if they no longer served a purpose in this moment of solitude. Here, with the soft murmur of the waves lapping at the shore, Freya appeared almost untethered, a woman unburdened by the expectations of the world—even if only for a fleeting moment.
Freya, lost in the soft rhythm of her phone call, didn’t notice Soyoung’s approach right away. Her voice, a gentle murmur, blended with the sound of the sea, as if her words were meant to drift away on the wind. It wasn’t until she heard the quiet crunch of footsteps in the sand that she realized she was no longer alone. Ending the call with a soft, “Shinpai shinai yo, ato de denwa suru ne”—Don’t worry too much about it, I’ll call you again soon—Freya slipped her phone into her pocket and turned. The smile that crossed her face when she saw Soyoung felt like the first warmth of dawn after a long, cold night.
“Ah, there you are,” she said, her voice light, as if seeing Soyoung had instantly lifted the lingering weight from her shoulders.
The manager, having escorted Soyoung to the table, gave a polite nod before retreating, leaving them alone beneath the stars.
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