#sage-requests

Three months had passed since you left Tokyo for the misty, sea-swept coast of Denmark. True to his promise, Nanami had rebuilt your entire world. Your new home was a masterpiece of minimalist architecture, isolated from the rest of the world, where the rhythmic crashing of the waves replaced the relentless neon rain of Japan.

Nanami had softened. A new, hard-won peace settled into his eyes every time he saw you reading by the fireplace. The structured routines of your life had become a comforting ritual. You thought you were safe. You thought the case was closed.

Then, on a Tuesday morning, at exactly 8:00 AM, a letter arrived.

It hadn't been sent through standard mail. It had been held by a prestigious Tokyo notary firm, under strict instructions to be couriered internationally only after a specific duration of time had lapsed. The envelope was a heavy, dark navy paper. The elegant, slightly trembling cursive script turned your blood to ice before you even broke the wax seal.

Nanami, who was busy preparing tea in the kitchen, noticed the color instantly drain from your face. He set the cup down, his sharp eyes locking onto the paper in your trembling hands. "Darling? What is it?"

You couldn't answer him. Your eyes were already racing across Hiromi's final words.

My dearest love, The court has handed down its verdict, and I have accepted my sentence. You said I wanted to drag you into the grave with me. You were wrong. I simply wanted us to live. But if my presence condemned you to live in a gilded cage, then I have chosen to adjourn the session permanently. Monsieur Nanami believes he has won because he bought my debts, my firm, and your future. He thinks life is merely a sequence of numbers that can be erased or replaced. But blood is not ink, and memory is not an asset to be liquidated. By the time you read these lines, my body will have been found in Courtroom Number 3 of the Tokyo District Court. Right where it all began. I am leaving, but I am not leaving you. Every time you look at that man, every time you attempt to feel entirely happy, you will remember that the price of your freedom was paid with my life. I am ensuring that you can never, ever forget me. I am becoming your eternal case of conscience. The trial is over, Love. But I keep the final word.

A sudden, sharp chime echoed through the quiet room. Nanami’s phone vibrated on the marble counter, displaying an international news alert from Japan: Prominent former Tokyo defense attorney found dead by suicide in Chiyoda courthouse.

Nanami stepped toward you, his usually unreadable face fracturing with a sudden, rare flash of pure panic. He threw his arms around you, pulling you against his chest with a force that bordered on painful, as if he could physically shield you from the ghost that had just entered the room.

"Do not read it, darling. Do not listen to him," he whispered urgently, his voice trembling for the first time in your memory as he pressed desperate kisses into your hair, trying to anchor you back to his perfect, structured reality. "He lost. We are here. You are mine."

But as you buried your face against Nanami’s chest, you could no longer hear the steady, reassuring beat of his heart. All you could hear, echoing through the cold silence of your perfect sanctuary, was the distant, definitive strike of an iron gavel hitting the wood.

Hiromi had lost the battle. But in taking his own life, he had sentenced your mind to life imprisonment.

And that is the final verdict… Please don't kill me guys, I know this is a devastating ending! Hiromi really decided that if he couldn't have her, he would make sure she could never fully belong to Nanami either… absolute psychological warfare!

This was Part 4 of our 4-chapter mini-series, which means the trial is officially closed. Thank you so much for following this dark journey with me! ♡

Read the full series here Looking for more? Check my Reacts & Imagines

Likes are really appreciated and reblogs are what keep this blog alive. If you enjoyed this please consider sharing! (っ˘ω˘ς )♡

The air on the twenty-fourth floor of Nanami’s luxury high-rise was thin, sterile, and quiet. For three days, you had not stepped outside. You hadn't needed to. Nanami had restructured your entire world within the perimeter of his penthouse. Groceries were delivered by private couriers; your resignation had been processed with a massive severance package funded directly from Nanami’s personal account; and the windows, thick and tinted, looked out over a Tokyo that felt miles away.

"You're pacing, Darling," Nanami said, his voice cutting through the soft jazz playing from the hidden wall speakers.

He was sitting at his mahogany desk in the corner of the living room, a mountain of financial ledgers spread before him. He had stopped going to his corporate office entirely, choosing to manage his multi-million yen portfolio from home to ensure he was never more than ten feet away from you.

"I feel like a prisoner, Kento" you whispered, pressing your forehead against the cool glass of the window. Down below, the city lights blinked like a distant galaxy.

Nanami stood up, smooth and deliberate, walking across the hardwood floor. He wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling your back flush against his broad, solid chest. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Not a prisoner. A treasure. The world outside is chaotic, unregulated, and dangerous. Here, I can control the variables. Here, I can guarantee that nothing harms you."

"And Hiromi?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What about him?"

Nanami’s grip tightened around your waist, just enough to let you know his displeasure at the mention of the name.

"Mister Higuruma is currently facing an internal review by the Bar Association. I spent the last seventy-two hours liquidating my shares in three major media conglomerates to buy the debt of the firm representing his oversight committee. By tomorrow morning, his license to practice law will be suspended indefinitely. I am stripping him of his armor, piece by piece."

He kissed the side of your neck, a firm, possessive mark.

"He will have no power left to reach you, darling. I have balanced the ledger."

But Nanami, for all his brilliant calculations, had made one fatal error. He assumed Higuruma Hiromi cared about the law. He assumed Hiromi cared about his career.

He didn't realize that to a man who had already looked into the abyss, losing his license wasn't a punishment—it was a liberation from the last thread holding his sanity together.

At exactly 11:45 PM, the lights in the penthouse flickered, buzzed, and died.

The jazz music cut off instantly, plunging the massive space into a suffocating, pitch-black silence. The only illumination came from the grey moonlight filtering through the panoramic windows.

Nanami was on his feet in a fraction of a second. He didn't panic. He reached into his desk drawer, pulling out a heavy, matte-black handgun—a weapon he had never shown you, but one he kept immaculate, like everything else he owned.

"Stay behind me," Nanami ordered, his voice dropping into a lethal, hushed register. He grabbed your wrist, pulling you behind his back as he faced the main entrance of the penthouse. "The backup generators should have kicked in within three seconds. The main grid has been manually bypassed from the building's basement."

Before you could process the terror rising in your throat, the heavy, electronic lock of the penthouse door let out a mechanical whine. The deadbolts slid back, one by one, with agonizingly slow clicks.

The door swung open.

Standing in the frame, backlit by the dim emergency lights of the hallway, was Hiromi. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, soaked with rain, clinging to his skin. In his right hand, he wasn't holding a briefcase, or a subpoena. He was holding a heavy, rusted iron gavel—the one from his old office desk—and a master keycard dripping with rainwater.

"The security system in this building is top-tier, Nanami," Hiromi said, his voice echoing in the dark apartment. It was a raspy, breathless sound, completely devoid of the professional veneer he usually maintained. He sounded like a ghost. "But every system has a backdoor if you know which judge signed the building permits. I used to review the zoning laws for this entire district, you know."

"You are trespassing on private property," Nanami said, raising the firearm, pointing it directly at Hiromi’s chest. His stance was perfect, unyielding. "I am legally authorized to use lethal force to protect my household. Step back into the elevator, or I will end this negotiation permanently."

Hiromi didn't look at the gun. He didn't care about the threat of death. His dark, hollow eyes bypassed Nanami entirely, locking onto you where you cowered behind the corporate giant’s shoulder. A soft, devastatingly tender smile broke across his pale face.

"I heard about the Bar Association, love," Hiromi whispered, taking a slow step forward into the penthouse. The wet soles of his shoes squeaked against the expensive wood. "They took my badge. They took my cases. They think they’ve ruined me. But they don't understand... the law was just the cage I built to keep myself from screaming. Now that they’ve broken the cage, there’s nothing left keeping me from you."

"Hiromi, please, go away!" you cried out, tears spilling down your cheeks. "You’re insane! Look at what you’re doing!"

"I am looking at what I’m doing," he replied softly, his voice cracking with a terrifying mixture of devotion and madness. "I’m bringing my wife home. This man... this broker... he’s turned your life into a spreadsheet. He has guards at your door, cameras in your hallway. He treats you like a risk to be mitigated. That’s not love, love. That’s custody. I’m here to grant you a mistrial."

"Silence," Nanami commanded, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You will not speak to her again."

Hiromi let out a dark, ragged laugh, taking another step forward. "Shoot me then, Nanami. Do it in front of her. Balance your ledger with my blood. Let her watch you become a killer just to keep her in your neat, little, sterile box."

The tension in the room was a physical weight, thick enough to suffocate. Nanami’s jaw was set so tight a muscle leaped in his cheek. He was a man of absolute order, but Hiromi was pure, unadulterated chaos, dragging him into the mud. Nanami knew that if he pulled the trigger, the legal fallout would destroy the life he had built for you. If he didn't, Hiromi would never stop.

Seeing Nanami’s slight hesitation, Hiromi raised the iron gavel, his eyes snapping with a sudden, wild intensity as he prepared to lunge forward.

You knew you had to end it.

Stepping out from behind Nanami’s protective shadow, you forced yourself into the space between them. Nanami gasped, trying to pull you back, but you stood your ground, looking directly into the shattered eyes of your ex-husband.

"Hiromi," you said, your voice shaking but loud enough to cut through the darkness. "Look at me."

Hiromi froze, the gavel hovering in the air. His gaze searched your face, desperate for a shred of the woman he used to know. "Love..."

"It’s over," you said, the words cutting through the air like a final sentence. "The marriage didn't die because of your job, Hiromi. It died because you let the darkness win. And now, you’re trying to drag me into the grave with you. I don't love you anymore. I love Kento. He doesn't cage me; he keeps me safe from you."

Hiromi stared at you, his chest heaving. The words seemed to hit him with the force of a physical blow. The manic spark in his eyes flickered, replaced by a profound, agonizing emptiness. The gavel in his hand slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the floor.

"You... you love him?" he whispered, his voice incredibly small, like a child lost in the dark.

"I do," you said, stepping back into Nanami’s embrace. Nanami immediately wrapped his arms around you, his large hand resting on the back of your head, pressing you against his chest, shielding you from the sight of your ex-husband's final collapse.

Hiromi stood there for a long moment, the rain from his clothes dripping onto the floor, mixing with the shadows. He looked down at his empty hands, then up at you, hidden away in Nanami's arms. The realization that he had truly, irrevocably lost you finally settled into his brilliant, broken mind.

"A verdict..." Hiromi murmured, a ghost of a smile touching his lips, entirely devoid of life. "The court... has reached its decision. No grounds for appeal."

Without another word, he turned around, his movements sluggish, heavy with the weight of absolute defeat. He walked back into the dark hallway, his shadow stretching out before disappearing into the elevator. The heavy penthouse door slowly drifted shut, the electronic lock clicking into place with a definitive, final beep.

The silence returned, but this time, it was no longer tense. It was over.

A moment later, the backup generators groaned to life. The lights hummed, flickering back on, bathing the penthouse in warm, golden illumination. The jazz music resumed, soft and sweet, as if the nightmare had never occurred.

Nanami slowly put the gun back into his pocket. He didn't ask if you were okay; he knew you weren't. He simply lifted you into his arms, carrying you over to the sofa, sitting down and holding you tightly against his lap.

He didn't speak of Hiromi. He didn't speak of the law or the mess on the floor. He simply stroked your hair with a steady, unhurried hand, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw over and over again until your breathing finally synchronized with his.

"It is 12:05 AM," Nanami whispered into your hair, his voice the absolute epitome of calm, structured reality. "The threat has been removed from the market, darling. The boundaries are secure. Tomorrow, we will sell this property and move to Denmark. I have already bought the estate. There are no lawyers there. No past. Just us, and a schedule that belongs entirely to you."

You closed your eyes, burying your face in his expensive cedarwood-scented shirt, letting the predictable, rhythmic beating of his heart wash over you. The world outside was still raining, still chaotic, and still broken—but inside Nanami’s arms, the ledger was finally balanced... Or not ?

And that’s the final verdict... or is it?

Please don't kill me guys, I know this feels like a definitive ending, but I promise you... THIS IS NOT THE END!!!

Likes are really appreciated and reblogs are what keep this blog alive. If you enjoyed this please consider sharing! (っ˘ω˘ς )♡

The transition from a passive threat to an active siege happened with the cold, calculated precision of an audit.

For two weeks following the incident in the rain, Nanami transformed your life into an impenetrable fortress. Every morning began exactly the same way: the quiet murmur of the news on the television, the scent of perfectly brewed coffee, and Nanami sitting across from you, his eyes scanning a security briefing on his tablet before he even looked at his breakfast.

"Eat your eggs, Darling," Nanami said softly, his voice a smooth, grounding balm against the low-humming anxiety that had taken up permanent residence in your chest. "You’ve lost half a kilo since last Tuesday. I am monitoring your caloric intake, and this level of stress is unacceptable."

You picked up your fork, staring at the perfectly poached eggs. "Kento, the men outside the office... colleagues are starting to ask questions. They look like private military, not standard guards."

Nanami didn't look up from his tablet. He reached across the table, his large, warm hand covering yours with a firm, unyielding pressure.

"Let them ask. Your colleagues do not pay for your safety; I do. The three men stationed at your building’s entrance are vetted professionals. They have strict orders to neutralize any unauthorized contact before it reaches your floor. You don't need to worry about the logistics, Darling. You only need to focus on breathing, eating, and letting me carry the weight."

He spoke of your safety the way a high-level executive spoke of risk management—devoid of panic, completely controlled, and utterly absolute. To Nanami, you were the only variable in his life that he refused to let depreciate. He had calculated the cost of your ex-husband’s obsession, and he was prepared to spend whatever it took to balance the ledger in his favor.

But Higuruma Hiromi did not play by the rules of corporate finance. He played by the rules of human ruin.

The trap sprang on a Thursday afternoon.

You were in the middle of sorting through archival court cases for your firm’s senior partner when the landline on your desk rang. It wasn't the external line—it was the internal intercom from the front desk.

"Hey," the receptionist’s voice sounded strained, a strange, breathless quality to it. "We have a bit of a situation up here. There’s a... legal representative from the Tokyo District Prosecutor’s Office. He has a subpoena for your personal testimony regarding an ongoing investigation. He’s already past the security desk downstairs."

Your blood ran cold. "What investigation? I haven't done anything."

"He says it’s a conflict of interest audit regarding Nanami Kento’s former investment firm. He... he has the badges, the paperwork, everything. The guards downstairs couldn't legally stop him without committing a federal offense."

Before you could even form a response, the heavy glass doors of your department swung open.

The three private security guards Nanami had hired stepped backward into the room, their hands hovering near their jackets, their faces tight with suppressed rage. Walking calmly between them, entirely unbothered by the implicit threat of violence, was Hiromi.

He looked thinner than he had eight months ago. His dark suit, while expensive, hung slightly loose on his broad shoulders, and the dark circles beneath his eyes looked like permanent bruises against his pale skin. Yet, his gaze was terrifyingly sharp. The moment his eyes found you sitting in your cubicle, the exhaustion vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden, manic warmth.

"Good afternoon," Hiromi said, his voice carrying clearly across the quiet office. He didn't look at the guards. He walked straight toward your desk, pulling a thick, blue leather folder from his briefcase. "I apologize for the disruption. But justice rarely waits for a convenient hour."

"Hiromi," you whispered, your voice shaking as you stood up, backing away until your spine hit the filing cabinet. "You can't be here. Nanami—"

"Nanami Kento is currently being detained at his own office by a surprise tax and compliance audit," Hiromi interrupted smoothly, resting both hands on the edge of your desk. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, intimate purr that only you could hear. "I filed the motion myself at four this morning. By the time his lawyers sort through the red tape, it will be evening. We have time, Love."

"This is abuse of power," you hissed, tears of anger pricking the corners of your eyes. "You’re using your position to harass me!"

Hiromi smiled, a slow, tragic expression that didn't reach his hollow eyes. He reached out, his long, pale fingers brushing against the edge of your computer monitor, just inches away from your hand.

"Harassment is such an ugly, unobjective word," he murmured, his gaze tracing every line of your face with a desperate, starving intensity. "I am simply conducting a thorough investigation. When you left me, Love, you left a void in my system. The law requires balance. Every day I wake up in that empty apartment, the silence is a verdict of guilty. I am simply trying to appeal the sentence."

He opened the blue folder, revealing pages upon pages of photographs. They weren't photos of Nanami’s corporate filings. They were photos of you.

You walking to the grocery store. You sitting on the balcony of Nanami’s apartment. You sleeping in the passenger seat of Nanami’s car, your face illuminated by the dashboard light.

"Look at how thin you’ve become," Hiromi whispered, his voice cracking slightly, revealing the raw, bleeding fracture in his sanity. "He keeps you like a caged bird in that high-rise. He measures your life in hours and minutes. He doesn't love you, Y/N. He manages you. He treats you like a portfolio. Come back to the mess. Come back to the chaos. At least with me, you were alive."

"She was alive, Mister Higuruma, because she was not drowning in your self-pity."

The voice came from the doorway, cold, heavy, and dripping with an absolute promise of violence.

Hiromi didn't flinch. He slowly stood up to his full height, turning around to face the entrance of the office.

Nanami stood there. His tie was slightly loosened—the first time you had ever seen a single thread out of place on his person. His signature glasses were pushed up his nose, and his chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths. He had clearly run through the city rain to get here, his coat damp, his leather shoes marking the floor with wet prints.

"You’re early," Hiromi noted calmly, closing the blue folder with a soft thud. "The auditors were instructed to keep you until six."

"I bought the auditing firm three years ago through a subsidiary," Nanami said, walking into the room with a slow, predatory stride. The three private guards instantly moved behind him, forming a wall of muscle. "It took me exactly twelve minutes to identify the forged signature on your motion, have the lead auditor fired, and clear my desk."

Nanami stopped exactly two feet from Hiromi. The contrast between them was staggering: Nanami, a pillar of immaculate, ruthless corporate authority; Hiromi, a brilliant mind fraying at the edges, fueled by nothing but nicotine, regret, and obsession.

"You have crossed a boundary," Nanami said, his voice dropping into a register that made the glass partitions of the office vibrate. He didn't look at you; his eyes were locked onto Hiromi’s. "You used a federal badge to intimidate my woman. You entered her place of work. You threatened her peace."

"She is my wife," Hiromi said, his jaw tightening, his voice losing its calm legal detachment for the first time. A dark, dangerous energy seemed to simmer around him. "A piece of paper finalized by a corrupt court doesn't erase five years of history, Nanami. You are an interloper in our tragedy."

"I am her present," Nanami countered, stepping even closer, his shadow completely swallowing Hiromi’s smaller frame. "And I will be her future. If you drop so much as a shadow near her again, I will not use the law. I will dismantle your reputation, I will freeze every asset you possess, and if that does not suffice, I will personally ensure you are removed from the streets of this city."

Hiromi let out a sharp, breathless laugh, his eyes widening with a manic spark. "Is that a physical threat, Monsieur Nanami? In front of witnesses?"

Nanami slowly reached up, taking off his glasses and tucking them into his breast pocket. Without the lenses, his eyes were terrifying—devoid of human warmth, filled with the cold, calculating cruelty of a man who dealt in human lives and numbers every day.

"It is not a threat," Nanami whispered, leaning down so only Hiromi could hear the finality in his words. "It is a market correction. And you are a bad investment."

Nanami turned his back on Hiromi, completely dismissing his existence, and walked over to your desk. He reached out, his large hands lifting you gently by the waist, pulling you out from behind the desk and tucking you firmly against his side.

"We are leaving, Darling," Nanami said softly into your hair, his voice instantly reverting to that gentle, protective baritone. "You will not be returning to this office. Your resignation will be filed by my legal team tonight."

As Nanami guided you out of the room, his arm wrapped so tightly around your waist that you could feel the rhythmic, steady thumping of his heart, you looked back over your shoulder.

Hiromi hadn't moved. He stood by your empty desk, holding the blue folder against his chest like a shield. The rain outside the window lashed against the glass, casting long, cage-like shadows across his pale face.

He didn't try to stop you. Instead, he raised two fingers to his temple in a mock salute, his lips moving silently as he watched you disappear into the elevator with Nanami.

I’ll see you in court, Love.

Things are definitely heating up! I had a blast writing this face-off between them, and I really hope you enjoyed the intensity of this chapter! ♡

We are officially halfway through the trial—Part 3 is coming up next, so stay tuned to see how Nanami handles this "market correction"!

Likes are really appreciated and reblogs are what keep this blog alive. If you enjoyed this please consider sharing! (っ˘ω˘ς )♡