Isamu sat at a secluded corner table of the Fujin family’s traditional restaurant, Yamato’s Harmony. The place was renowned for its serene ambiance and exquisite kaiseki meals. Bamboo partitions created pockets of privacy, while the scent of freshly brewed matcha lingered in the air.

Dressed in an understated outfit of an black shirt, ivory-colored trousers, and a sleek black watch, Isamu blended into the setting perfectly. The only thing out of place was the temporary brown dye in his usually jet-black hair. He adjusted his black mask nervously, a rare sight for someone as composed as Fujin Isamu.

“Calm down,” he muttered to himself, glancing at his phone. He had parked his sleek sedan in a discreet spot and ensured his assistant was handling his schedule. “She doesn’t know who you are. You’re just...Daichi, the landlord.”

The low hum of his phone buzzing broke his thoughts.
“Ah, she’s here,” he whispered, looking up.

Through the entrance, a cheerful figure in a yellow sundress walked in. Sara’s ponytails bounced with each step, her face glowing with an unrestrained smile that took Isamu completely by surprise. Gone was the somber girl he’d seen at the funeral.

“Daichi-san?” she called out, waving her phone in the air. The screen displayed his number under the name “The Landlord,” with the call still active.
Isamu couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips under the mask. He stood up, raising a hand. “Sara-chan?”

“That’s me!” she chirped, walking up to the table. “And you’re Daichi, my mysterious therapist-landlord combo?”

He nodded, bowing slightly. “In the flesh. You’re even more punctual than I expected.”
She beamed, her hands clasping her phone. “I had to meet the famous Daichi-san who’s been solving all my problems over the phone. But you look so...normal! I was expecting someone...older?”
Isamu chuckled. “Older? I don’t sound that ancient, do I?”

“Well,” she teased, tilting her head, “you do have a very wise vibe over the phone. Like you’d be the type to quote ancient proverbs or give cryptic advice.”
He smirked. “Maybe I save the proverbs for special occasions.”

They settled into their seats, the soft tatami mat creaking under their weight. Sara stretched out her arms, looking around in awe.
“This place is gorgeous! Do you own it, Daichi-san?”

Isamu stiffened for a split second but quickly shook his head. “No, no, it’s a family-run place I visit often. Good food, good privacy.”
“Ah, a man with connections,” Sara said, wiggling her eyebrows. “I like that.”

He chuckled, steering the conversation. “And you? How’s life been treating you?”
She sighed dramatically. “Busy! Between designing for clients and dreaming about my future café, I barely have time to breathe.”
“Ganbare, Sara-chan,” he said with a playful tone.

Her eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, you do say proverbs! I knew it!”
He laughed. “That wasn’t a proverb. Just encouragement.”
“Well, thank you, wise landlord,” she said, grinning. “Speaking of which, do I get to know anything about you? Or are you staying mysterious?”

“Hmm,” he said, leaning back with a mock-thoughtful expression. “Let’s see. My name’s Daichi Tanaka, I’m in my thirties, and I’m a freelance therapist-slash-landlord who enjoys peace and quiet.”

“Tanaka, huh? Classic,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “But you’re not giving me much to work with here. Any hobbies? Favorite foods? Star sign?”

“Hobbies? Listening to people,” he said, smirking under the mask. “Favorite food? Katsudon. And as for my star sign...you’ll have to guess.”

She pouted playfully. “Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll crack the Daichi code eventually.”

A waitress arrived with tea, setting the steaming cups between them. Sara took a sip and let out a contented sigh. “Ah, perfect! Alright, Daichi-san, spill the details. What’s the master plan?”

Before Isamu could respond, a girl passing by their table tripped over the table leg and sending the waiter's tray flying.

The young girl scrambled to her feet, laughing nervously. “Oh, sorry! So clumsy of me!”

Isamu’s eyes narrowed, his brain clearly working overtime to figure out why his sister, Yumi, was here. Sara, oblivious, simply looked concerned.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice kind.
Yumi froze, momentarily starstruck. “Y-Yes! Thank you! I’ll just...go now.” She scurried away, her face bright red.

Isamu decided to steer Sara’s attention back to the conversation. He couldn’t afford to let his plan sink on the first day.

He leaned forward, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “So, here’s the situation. My family is pressuring me to get a girlfriend. They think I’m hopelessly single, and it’s driving them nuts.”
“Hopelessly single?” she repeated, stifling a giggle, her attention was caught by him successfully. “That’s harsh.”
“Tell me about it,” he muttered. “Anyway, I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend, just for a little while, to get them off my back.”
Sara raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Sounds simple enough. But why me?”

“You’re pragmatic, driven, and you won’t fall for the theatrics my family might throw at you,” he said smoothly. “Plus, I trust you.”
She blinked, surprised. “You trust me?”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “You’re someone who’s honest about their goals. I admire that.”
Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she quickly masked it with a laugh. “Alright, flattery noted. But what’s in it for me?”

“Support for your dreams,” he said, his voice light. “Think of me as your silent partner. You help me, I help you. You need money? I got you. Being a landlord and a real-estate manager does wonders.”

Sara tilted her head, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “You know, for a therapist, you’re oddly good at making deals. Maybe that's why you are a landlord!”
“Occupational hazard,” he quipped.

As they delved deeper into the logistics of their plan, Sara leaned back, tapping her chin. “But what if your family doesn’t buy it? I mean, we’ve never even met before. What if they think I’m a fraud?”

“Then we’ll make it convincing,” he said confidently.
She narrowed her eyes playfully. “And what if you’re the fraud? For all I know, you could be a retired comedian or a secret spy.”
He laughed, a genuine, warm sound that made her smile. “If I were a spy, I wouldn’t tell you, would I?”

“Touché,” she admitted. “But seriously, Daichi-san, this is a lot of effort for just a pretend relationship. Are you sure you’re not hiding something?”

His heart skipped a beat, but he quickly masked it. “Sara-chan, the only thing I’m hiding is a family that won’t stop meddling.”
“Alright, landlord,” she said, grinning. “You’ve got yourself a deal. But if this backfires, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, raising his tea cup. “To a successful partnership.”
“To a successful partnership,” she echoed, clinking her cup against his.

After finalizing their plan at the restaurant, Sara suggested they walk around to explore the area. Isamu, still in his “Daichi Tanaka” persona, agreed without hesitation, his curiosity about her growing with each passing minute.

“Well, Daichi-san,” Sara teased as they exited the restaurant, “what’s next on your list for this pretend relationship of ours? Should we practice dramatic confessions or rehearse a fake proposal?”

Isamu chuckled, slipping his hands into his pockets. “One step at a time, Sara-chan. Let’s start with something less theatrical. Like...shopping?”
Her eyes lit up. “Shopping? Are you serious?”

“Why not? Consider it part of the act,” he replied, waving his hand nonchalantly. “If we’re going to make this convincing, we need to look the part. And by ‘we,’ I mean you.”

Sara tilted her head, her ponytails swaying. “You’re saying I don’t look convincing enough?”
“No, no!” he stammered, holding up his hands defensively. “You look great. But if we’re pretending you’re my girlfriend, you should at least have a few new outfits to match the role.”
She narrowed her eyes, suspicion creeping in. “You just want an excuse to dress me up, don’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted with a shrug.

The pair soon found themselves at a high-end mall in the city, the polished marble floors gleaming under bright lights. Sara’s eyes widened as they walked past rows of designer stores.
“Wow, Daichi-san,” she said, nudging him. “You have good taste in malls. I didn’t take you for the fancy shopping type.”
“I’m full of surprises,” he replied smoothly.

They entered a boutique filled with racks of gorgeous dresses, each one seemingly more expensive than the last. Sara hesitated, glancing at the price tags.

“Daichi-san, are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice uncertain. “These clothes cost a fortune!”
“Nonsense,” he said, picking up a sleek emerald-green dress and holding it against her. “This is nothing. Just try it on.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Are you secretly rich or something?”

He laughed, waving her off. “These aren’t the real ones, Sara-chan. They’re...replicas. Really convincing replicas.”
She crossed her arms, one eyebrow raised. “Replicas? You mean designer knock-offs?”
“Exactly,” he said with a grin, silently praying she’d believe him.
“Hmm,” she muttered, still suspicious. “Alright, but if I find out you’re lying, you owe me a year’s rent-free living.”

Those aren't replicas, whom is he trying to fool? This great-aunt?

“Deal,” he said, gesturing to the dressing rooms.

Minutes later, Sara emerged wearing the emerald-green dress. It hugged her figure perfectly, the fabric shimmering under the boutique’s lights. She did a playful spin, her ponytails twirling behind her.

“So, Daichi-san,” she asked, striking a mock pose. “Do I look convincing as your pretend girlfriend now?”
Isamu’s breath caught for a moment, but he quickly recovered, clapping his hands dramatically. “You look...adequate.”

She gasped, putting her hands on her hips. “Adequate? That’s all you’ve got?”
He smirked. “I’m joking. You look stunning, Sara-chan.”
She grinned, doing another spin. “Good save, Daichi-san. Alright, let’s pick out a few more outfits.”
Over the next hour, Sara tried on several dresses, each one more dazzling than the last. Isamu watched, his amusement growing as she switched from playful to serious to downright goofy.
“Daichi-san, what do you think of this one?” she asked, stepping out in a pastel pink dress.
“It’s perfect,” he said without hesitation.

She rolled her eyes. “You’ve said that about the last three dresses.”
“Because it’s true,” he said with a shrug. The words were so smooth that they were enough to redden the tips of her ears.

As they left the boutique, several shopping bags in tow, Sara turned to him with a questioning look.
“You know,” she said, “those dresses didn’t feel like replicas. They felt...real.”

He tensed but kept his tone casual. “High-quality replicas, Sara-chan. You’d be surprised what they can make these days.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, Daichi-san.”

He laughed nervously. “Let’s move on, shall we? There’s a great street nearby with local snacks and some tourist spots. Perfect for...what did you call it earlier? A dramatic confession?”

He left that question!

She giggled. “You’re not letting that go, are you? Alright, lead the way, oh mysterious landlord.”

The streets were lively, filled with the chatter of vendors and the aroma of freshly grilled yakitori. Sara’s eyes sparkled as she took in the sights, pointing out everything from handmade trinkets to colorful kimonos displayed outside a shop.

“Daichi-san, look!” she exclaimed, dragging him toward a stall selling taiyaki. “These look amazing!”
“They do,” he agreed, pulling out his wallet. “Let’s get some.”
As they bit into the warm, fish-shaped pastries, Sara sighed happily. “This is the life. Good food, good company, and no deadlines hanging over my head.”
“Glad to be of service,” he said, watching her with a small smile.

As they strolled through the bustling streets, their conversation turned personal.
“So, Sara-chan,” he began, “why a café? Of all the dreams you could chase, why that?”
She looked thoughtful, nibbling on her taiyaki. “It’s simple, really. I love creating things, whether it’s designs or food. And a café feels like the perfect mix of creativity and community.”
“That’s...a beautiful dream,” he said softly.

She glanced at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Thanks, Daichi-san. What about you? Any big dreams?”

He hesitated, unsure how much of the real Isamu he could reveal. “My dream is...to find balance. To live a life where I can be myself without any pretense.”
She nodded, her expression serious. “That’s a good dream. And I hope you find it someday.”
Their eyes met, and for a moment, the bustling world around them seemed to fade away.

The evening drew to a close and the couple found themselves at a small park overlooking the river. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting a warm glow over the water.
“This was fun,” Sara said, leaning on the railing. “Thanks for today, Daichi-san.”

“No, thank you,” he replied, standing beside her. “I haven’t had this much fun in a long time.”
She grinned. “Well, I’m glad I could help. Even if this is all just pretend.”

His smile faltered for a split second, but he quickly recovered. “Pretend or not, it was worth it.”
They stood in silence for a while, the gentle sound of the river filling the space between them.
“Daichi-san,” she said suddenly, her tone playful. “If this were a real date, I’d say you’re doing pretty well so far.”

He chuckled, his heart skipping a beat. “Good to know, Sara-chan. Good to know.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, Isamu realized that for the first time in years, he didn’t feel the weight of his double life. All he felt was the warmth of her presence and the quiet hope that this “pretend” relationship might someday become something more.