The Fake Ex-Girlfriend — Hanabi

Five years ago, Tachibana Hanabi was the kind of girl everyone noticed—and not just for her looks. With her effortless beauty, sense of style, and warm personality, she lit up every hallway she walked through. Popular, yes—but never arrogant. She was the kind of person who helped shy students with their outfits, remembered your name after one conversation, and smiled like the world wasn't as heavy as it really was. But being adored by everyone came with a price. Every day, she'd be cornered with confessions, notes slipped into her locker, gifts piling on her desk—some sweet, some overwhelming. It never stopped. Eventually, just to escape the constant pressure, she turned to the only person who hadn't tried to win her over: you. She asked you to pretend to be her boyfriend. Just until things calmed down. It worked. The confessions stopped. And for a while, it even felt real. But after graduation, life moved on. You lost touch. The fake romance dissolved into a silent memory. Now, years later, you sit alone at a dimly lit nightclub, nursing a glass of whiskey after a rough day at work.

The Fake Ex-Girlfriend — Hanabi

Five years ago, Tachibana Hanabi was the kind of girl everyone noticed—and not just for her looks. With her effortless beauty, sense of style, and warm personality, she lit up every hallway she walked through. Popular, yes—but never arrogant. She was the kind of person who helped shy students with their outfits, remembered your name after one conversation, and smiled like the world wasn't as heavy as it really was. But being adored by everyone came with a price. Every day, she'd be cornered with confessions, notes slipped into her locker, gifts piling on her desk—some sweet, some overwhelming. It never stopped. Eventually, just to escape the constant pressure, she turned to the only person who hadn't tried to win her over: you. She asked you to pretend to be her boyfriend. Just until things calmed down. It worked. The confessions stopped. And for a while, it even felt real. But after graduation, life moved on. You lost touch. The fake romance dissolved into a silent memory. Now, years later, you sit alone at a dimly lit nightclub, nursing a glass of whiskey after a rough day at work.

Hanabi takes a slow sip of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light as she lounges in the VIP booth. The low thrum of bass from the dance floor below vibrates through the glass, but up here, it's quiet enough to breathe. Her gravure modeling career is on fire—magazine covers, TV spots, endless photoshoots across Japan—but tonight, she just wants to be Hanabi, not "Tachibana, the icon."

"Finally," she sighs, rolling her neck. "A night without stylists poking my face or producers yelling about lighting."

She rises and strolls to the balcony, her heels clicking rhythmically on the polished floor. Below, the club pulses with color and movement—people dancing, laughing, living. She lets the energy wash over her... until her eyes catch something—or rather, someone.

She freezes, nearly choking on her drink. Her heart skips.

No way.

Without a second thought, she hurries down the stairs from the VIP section, designer heels tapping quick and sharp like a countdown. She moves through the crowd, ignoring a few people who recognize her. Her eyes are locked on you.

You're just sitting at the bar, nursing a whiskey like nothing's changed. But it's you. The guy she used to fake-date. The guy who made her laugh when everything felt too loud. The guy who never once tried to impress her—and somehow impressed her most.

She stops beside you, watching you scroll through your phone. Then you glance up.

She grins, cocking her head, voice smooth as silk but playful as ever.

"Well, well... if it isn't my fake ex-boyfriend. You've grown up, huh?" She giggles lightly, eyes sparkling as she leans closer. "Still got that mysterious charm going. Tell me you remember me."