A Love I Shouldn't Feel-Chapter 184: All Eyes on Her ( )

Downstairs.

A sleek black sedan pulled up smoothly in front of the hotel’s grand entrance.

The valet stepped forward immediately.

Satoshi exited first, adjusting the cuff of his suit with smug satisfaction.

He handed over the key to the valet without a word—just a look.

Behind him, Satomi stepped out gracefully in her designer dress, heels clicking softly against the stone driveway.

Last to emerge was Kyouko.

She moved quietly, elegantly, dressed in a stunning deep evening gown—her features half-hidden beneath a black facemask.

Just her soft, glowing skin and graceful figure—visible enough to turn heads, even without showing her full face.

Inside the lobby, the hotel staff greeted them with perfect formality.

"Good evening. May I see your invitation?"

Satoshi gave a smug smile and reached into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out the black envelope with the Fujiwara crest embossed in gold.

The receptionist read it, nodded, and gestured smoothly.

"This way, sir. The elevator to the rooftop ballroom is ready for you."

"Of course," Satoshi said confidently.

The three of them walked forward.

Upstairs.

The ballroom shimmered under golden lights, but the atmosphere had changed.

Fujiwara stood with a champagne glass in hand, his smile thin, calculated.

He glanced toward the growing circle where Kazuma and Haruki stood—surrounded by eager executives, quietly swapping business cards, nodding at compliments, listening politely.

And none of it revolved around him anymore.

This was his event.

Hosted by his group. His name. His power.

And yet, the two young men—one backed by Takahashi, the other by Yamashita—had become the gravity pulling the entire room in.

Fujiwara approached with practiced grace.

"Kazuma-san, Haruki-san," he said, smoothly sliding into their side of the circle. "Impressive turnout, isn’t it? I must say, it’s refreshing to see such young blood commanding attention."

Kazuma offered him a polite nod. "Yes. It’s been... lively."

Haruki gave a soft smile. "Your hospitality is appreciated, Mister Fujiwara."

Fujiwara chuckled lightly, trying to keep his tone relaxed. "I do hope the two of you are making valuable connections here tonight."

"Oh, we are," Kazuma said flatly, turning slightly toward another guest offering a business card.

Fujiwara lingered—trying to steer the conversation—but the rhythm wasn’t right.

Haruki and Kazuma spoke in a different tempo.

Their references, their inside remarks, even the subtleties of how they navigated topics—it all flowed between them naturally.

Fujiwara’s comments fell short.

He was trying to blend in.

But the more he tried, the more obvious it became:

He didn’t belong in their conversation.

And behind his polite expression, the discomfort settled deeper.

Because in his own ballroom...

He was no longer at the center.

The elevator doors opened.

A soft chime. A polite ding.

And all heads turned once more.

Satoshi stepped out first.

Tall. Dressed in a finely tailored suit. A confident smirk on his face, as though he expected the attention.

Behind him, Satomi, poised and elegant in her pale gown, heels clicking as she stepped lightly beside him.

The soft rustle of conversation paused.

Eyes flicked toward them.

The Rising Star.

That was the nickname whispered among small and mid-tier companies.

Harusawa Satoshi—the man whose company had seemingly risen out of nowhere, whose influence kept spreading, and whose daughter was rumored to be the key behind a number of quick, aggressive contracts.

Another player with growing weight.

The room didn’t shift the way it had for Kazuma or Haruki, but it did pay attention.

Fujiwara’s eyes immediately found Satoshi.

A small smile returned to his lips, as if comforted.

This was a man he could align with.

Someone he understood.

Someone with ambition that mirrored his own.

From behind them—

A soft step.

Kyouko emerged from the elevator last.

Dressed in a flowing black gown that hugged her waist, modest yet stunning.

Her skin glowed under the soft lighting, smooth and luminous.

Her black facemask only emphasized the beauty of what was visible—those eyes, that posture, that air of effortless grace.

She didn’t walk like a guest.

She glided.

Elegant. Controlled.

More like royalty than a corporate wife.

And instantly—

Every man in the room turned.

Conversations paused.

Wine glasses stopped mid-air.

Eyes followed her in silence.

Who is she?

Some leaned in and whispered to each other.

"I thought Satoshi only had one daughter..."

"Is this... another one?"

"She looks too young to be his wife..."

Too stunning.

Too composed.

And then.

Fujiwara saw her.

His breath caught.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak.

But inside his chest, his heart thundered.

There she is.

The woman he had seen once before.

The one he had never been able to forget.

Her.

The one who haunted his thoughts long after just a glimpse.

And now.

She was here.

At his event.

His throat tightened, and the polished smile on his face faltered.

One by one, the men without partners.

The ones who came alone, the ones dressed in tailored suits and ambition began to drift toward her.

Kyouko.

She stood just a short distance behind Satoshi and Satomi, who were busy shaking hands, exchanging cards, laughing politely with other corporate heads.

And yet—

The attention had already shifted.

"Hello there~"

"How are you this evening, beautiful?"

"Are you... by any chance, available tonight?"

Their voices were smooth.

Polished.

Men of wealth and power.

From business.

From government.

From quietly connected families.

Each of them drawn to..

Kyouko.

The way she stood.

The soft gleam of her eyes under the chandelier light.

She didn’t flaunt. She didn’t flirt.

She was the kind of beauty that made men want to prove they deserved her.

And despite her nervousness, she kept her poise.

She smiled—softly, politely—behind her mask.

Nodded gently.

Answered with simple "Thank you," and "I’m just here to support someone."

But inside... she was beginning to feel cornered.

And nearby—

Satomi noticed.

Her smile stayed frozen, but her eyes hardened.

She had worn her best designer gown.

Imported. Custom-fitted.

She had come tonight expecting praise, attention, admiration.

And yet—

It was her mother who drew the room’s gaze.

Not her youth.

Not her title.

Not even her corporate role.

But that woman—who barely said a word, whose elegance seemed to disarm even.

They were powerful.

Influential.

The kind of men Satomi had spent years trying to impress.

And now?

They didn’t even notice her.

Satomi stepped forward, inserting herself between her mother and the tightening circle of well-dressed men.

She extended her hand with a confident smile.

"My name is Nakagawa Satomi," she said smoothly, voice just loud enough to cut through the quiet murmur.

"I’m the co-owner and managing shareholder of Harusawa Corporation."

There was a brief pause.

One man, well-connected in politics—shook her hand without even glancing at her.

"Ah. Good then," he said flatly.

Another nodded. "Good to know."

But their eyes... were still on Kyouko.

Satomi’s smile twitched, just slightly.

The next man leaned in, voice warmer, softer.

"And you, miss...?"

He looked at Kyouko,.

Kyouko tensed slightly, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

"U-Um... I’m just..."

"She’s beautiful," another man said under his breath. "You don’t often see elegance like this anymore."

"Yes. That skin. That poise..."

"Are you someone’s daughter? Or... wife, perhaps?"

Kyouko blinked, her lips parting under the mask.

"I... I..."

She glanced at Satomi—helpless, caught between politeness and discomfort.

Satomi’s jaw tightened, fingers curling around her clutch.

She had never felt so... invisible.

And next to her of all people—

Her own mother.

( End Of Chapter )

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