Next morning arrived, draped in the quiet calm of early sunlight.
Venzel stirred awake, blinking at the ceiling as the realization hit—today was the day.
The morning air felt cooler than usual, a subtle breeze brushing past the curtains.
He sat up, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, and smiled faintly to himself.
Then, with practiced rhythm, he got dressed, smoothing his shirt with extra care and running his fingers through his hair more times than necessary.
The house was quieter now.
Uncle Ryu, Aunt Soho, and Renji had left the night before.
There'd been a firm handshake and an even firmer clap on the back from Uncle Ryu, along with a promise to talk more about those special eggs.
They'd exchanged contact details, and Ryu had given him one last approving nod that Venzel wouldn't forget.
Now, in the early hush of the morning, Venzel stepped into the kitchen where his mom, Tsuki, was already busy.
The aroma of rice, eggs, and miso drifted through the air like a warm hug.
She looked up as he entered, strands of hair tucked behind her ears, a gentle smile already forming on her face.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning, Mom," Venzel replied.
Then, without hesitation, he walked over and pulled her into a hug.
Tsuki blinked, surprised for a second, then chuckled softly and patted his back. "What's this for?"
"Just felt like it," he mumbled into her shoulder, then stepped back with a grin.
Tsuki gave him a knowing look but said nothing more, simply gesturing toward the table.
"Eat a little before you go. You'll need strength."
He nodded, sat down, and ate quickly, his mind already halfway out the door.
After breakfast, he stood up, brushed the crumbs off his shirt, and made his way to the living room where his dad, Aoki, sat casually reading the paper.
"Dad," Venzel said.
Aoki looked up. "Hmm?"
"Can I borrow the car?"
Aoki lowered the paper slowly and raised a brow, then asked.
"Youre going out now? Is it important?"
Venzel smiled, scratching his cheek.
"Yes dad. It's very important."
Aoki reached into his pocket and tossed him the keys. "Fine but make sure to bring the car back home safe."
"I will," Venzel said chuckling.
With the keys in hand, Venzel made his way to the garage. He slid into the driver's seat and started up the old family car.
The engine rumbled to life with a familiar grumble, the kind he'd grown up hearing.
He exhaled slowly, gripping the wheel, then pulled out of the driveway and onto the winding country road.
The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting long streaks of gold across the path ahead.
Fields rolled by on either side—green, lush, and still kissed with dew.
Birds darted overhead, and the occasional bark of a dog echoed faintly from a nearby farm.
As the road opened up, so did Venzel's thoughts.
He wasn't just driving toward the city he was driving toward a future that, up until a few weeks ago, felt impossibly distant.
He passed the greenhouse on the left, where the potatoes waited in their neat rows.
He passed the village sign.
Then the landscape slowly began to change—fewer trees, more buildings, a hint of traffic noise in the distance.
The closer he got to the city, the faster his heart beat. But it wasn't anxiety that gripped him.
It was excitement.
Hope.
That giddy, weightless feeling when you know something good is just within reach.
He reached over and adjusted the mirror, catching his own reflection.
"You've got this," he muttered with a small grin, then turned his eyes back to the road.
The road into the city widened, the air gradually thickening with the hum of morning life, commuters on scooters, buses groaning past, and pedestrians bustling along crosswalks.
But inside the car, it was quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the tires and Venzel's own heartbeat thudding in sync.
He glanced at the dashboard clock. Still early. Good.
His fingers tapped the steering wheel as he stopped at a red light.
He could feel the slight buzz of nerves under his skin, less like fear, more like standing on the edge of something meaningful.
A commitment. A beginning.
When the light turned green, he eased forward, winding through familiar city streets.
He hadn't been here much since moving to the countryside, but the tall buildings, flashing shop signs, and the scent of roasted chestnuts from a nearby vendor all struck him with a strange warmth.
Then he saw it, the civil office building, modest but official, tucked between a pharmacy and a café.
He pulled into the small parking lot nearby, cut the engine, and just… sat there for a moment.
He stared at the entrance.
Kana would be here soon.
This was real.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and opened their last message thread.
Her final words from last night glowed back at him:
"I can't wait for tomorrow."
He smiled softly, then sent her a quick text.
"I'm here. Take your time. I'll be waiting."
Then he leaned back in the seat, the city noise faint through the windows, and let the moment settle around him like morning light.
His phone buzzed once.
Kana: It's so early! 😵
Venzel chuckled softly to himself, thumbs already hovering over the screen to tease her back but before he could type a single word, another message popped in.
Kana: Wait for me I'm coming over right now. I just escaped out of the house.
His eyes widened.
"She actually ran out…" he murmured in awe.
A slow, amazed grin tugged at his lips.
He stared at the phone for a moment longer, heart thumping with the kind of chaotic joy only Kana could stir in him.
With both hands gripping the steering wheel again, he leaned back into the seat and whispered with a laugh,
"Of course you did."
He glanced out toward the entrance of the civil office then at the road behind him, half-expecting to see her already sprinting into view, hair wild, cheeks flushed with determination.
Venzel shook his head, smiling like a fool, and turned the radio on low.
All he could do now… was wait for the girl who rewrote her whole future—with him at the center.