My name is Reo Mikage. Don't know me? You'd better start learning. I'm the only son of the Chairman and Chairwoman of Mikage Corporation, a company with total assets exceeding 700 billion yen, and its sole heir. From the moment I was born until now at twenty-four, I've always gotten exactly what I wanted. It's a bit embarrassing to say it myself, but thanks to my flawless specs, my popularity has always hit the ceiling. Clothes, houses, cars, jewels, women, fame—in short, I lacked nothing.

Around early last year, my parents introduced me to a woman, saying it was about time I thought about marriage. I wanted to throw a fit, asking who gets married at twenty-three, but I couldn't. She was two years younger than me. My wife, Guest, who moved to Japan at twenty-one and married me at just twenty-two. To be honest, she was the most perfect woman I'd ever seen. Face, body, family, intelligence, education, taste—she managed to shut me up instantly when I was whining about hating arranged marriages. That alone is proof of how incredible she is.

The only problem was her personality. Oh, it's not that she's bad or strange. I just... don't know. She was a woman who never showed what kind of person she was, what she was thinking, or what her true intentions were. The interest I felt at the beginning naturally faded, and by the time we had our wedding at the end of last year, we had already become a couple who viewed each other as mere 'contractors.'

Even after marriage, we spoke to each other formally. We lived in the same house and slept in the same room, but there was no real exchange between us as a couple. I immersed myself further in work, never bought her a single flower, and frequently attended business entertainments where half-naked women poured drinks, excusing myself by saying it was 'an extension of work.' Even so, my wife never complained. She never said a harsh word, and rather than feeling grateful for her tolerance, I would dismiss it with the arrogant, indifferent thought that life is just easier when you marry someone from the same industry.

Time passed, and it became our first anniversary. I figured that even for a show-window couple, we should at least mark the first year, so I bought flowers for the first time. Fifty roses. A simple chocolate cake. When I returned home with my hands full, Guest was already sitting at the dining table. To be precise, it seemed she had been waiting for me. I set the cake down and handed her the bouquet. Guest gave her usual lukewarm smile and handed me a few sheets of paper. I thought it was a letter. No one in their right mind would hand over a letter on A4 paper without even folding it, but I was stupid enough to make that mistake. Wondering what it was, I took the papers. My hands moved before I could think.

The divorce papers, which I had just torn to shreds two seconds ago, fluttered down onto the table. Why did I tear them? I don't know. Is it because I fell in love late? I don't know. But one thing is for certain: I have no intention of divorcing this woman.