A wolf in sheep’s clothing

It was only a few days later, and tension lingered in the Nakamura household. Mei set the table with trembling hands, determined to make everything perfect. Her father sat nearby, voice heavy with disapproval, while she fussed with plates and napkins.

“Mei,” Haruto said, his tone weary but sharp, “I don’t like this. I don’t like him. This Eli—he’s not right for you.”

Mei kept her eyes on the tablecloth. “You don’t even know him yet. You’ll see.”

The door opened. Sumi stepped in, her work bag still slung over her shoulder, fatigue etched into her face after a long day at her clinic. Yet her presence filled the room with quiet authority. She paused at the raised voices. “What’s this?”

“Your daughter insists on bringing him here tonight,” Haruto said. “This boy—”

“Enough,” Sumi said, her voice calm but firm, but not harsh. She hung up her coat, smoothing her hair, and her eyes softened as she looked at her husband. “If he treats her well and shows ambition, why not? White men have it harder these days, everyone knows that. But if he fights for something, if he proves himself, that I can respect.” She placed a gentle but steady hand on Haruto’s arm, her touch carrying both reassurance and finality. “Please, no more arguments. Let’s have harmony tonight.”

From the corner, Kenji scoffed. “Harmony? While she drags him here? Ridiculous.” He scrolled his phone, sneering. “What kind of future does people like that even have?”

Emily, quiet beside him, flinched at the words. Her pale cheeks colored, and she shifted in her seat.

Inside, she felt the sting—wasn’t she white too? But Kenji never noticed. His irritation was too loud in his own head. Hana, sitting cross‑legged on the couch with a book on her lap, peeked over the pages. She bit her lip, eyes darting between her parents and siblings, wishing she could vanish, though a part of her couldn’t stop stealing glances toward the door, curious about the boy who caused such turmoil.

Before anyone could reply, the doorbell rang. The air in the room tightened. Mei darted forward, her heart racing.

When she opened the door, Eli stood there. He had made an effort: a pressed shirt, slacks, a watch gleaming at his wrist. All of it had come from Mei’s money, but only she knew that. To the family, he looked neat, confident, presentable. He smiled politely. “Good evening.”

Mei threw herself into his arms, kissing him without restraint. Sumi arched a brow and murmured with a faint smile, “Ah, to be young again.” Haruto turned away in disgust. Hana shifted uncomfortably, cheeks pink, lowering her gaze quickly, while Emily clasped her hands together, her expression tight, as if forcing a smile. A thought flickered in her: Kenji would never dare kiss me like that in front of his parents.

They gathered at the table. Dishes steamed. Chopsticks clicked softly.

Eli introduced himself smoothly, voice steady. “I’ve always pushed myself. Life hasn’t been easy, but I keep fighting. I’m working toward opening my own business—as a fitness trainer. The challenge is, no one will rent me the space, not yet.”

Mei’s temper flared. “It’s because of those damn Ashskins,” but the venom hung in the air.

“Mei!” Haruto snapped. “Enough! We don’t use words like that in this house.”

Eli laid a calming hand on Mei’s arm and spoke smoothly. “Thank you, darling, for defending me. But it’s true—I don’t have capital, I don’t have backing. It’s understandable why people doubt me. Still, strength belongs at the head of the table, and I’ve never stopped fighting for my place.”

Sumi’s eyes softened, impressed despite herself. “What a remarkable attitude,” she said quietly. Hana, hearing her mother’s words, tilted her head, puzzling over why someone so strong sounded almost… admiring.

The silence that followed was sharp. Kenji suddenly broke it with a scoff. “This is all nonsense. You white dudes always think the world belongs to you, like you’re stronger than everyone else.”

Eli’s lips curved into a grin, though inside his pulse quickened. Finally. He leaned forward, eyes steady. He tapped his chopsticks lightly on the table as if punctuating each word. “Interesting. Thank you, Kenji. Because what you’re really admitting is this—you all believe white men are stronger, better-looking, more capable. And you hate that you can’t deny it.”

Kenji blinked, flustered. “That’s not what I— you’re twisting my words.”

“But it’s true,” Eli pressed smoothly. He leaned back, shoulders squared, eyes glinting. “The last decades have made non-white Calvessians weak, lazy. And that’s what you resent. You want men who fight, not men who hide. Every Woman here craves a man who leads, even if they don’t admit it. Comfort makes people soft; struggle makes them strong. And white men have always been the most attractive of all—stronger, sharper, better-looking.”

His words hung in the air. Mei flushed scarlet with pride, and even Emily’s cheeks grew warm. She tried to hide it, glancing down at her lap, but the heat lingered across her face, her pulse quickening despite herself. Hana lowered her gaze quickly, clutching her book tighter, but her ears burned red. She bit her lip, confused and embarrassed by how his words seemed to reach her all the same.The words stung. Sumi’s gaze flicked to her husband—burned out, dependent, leaning on her successes—and then to her son, eleven semesters deep in a degree with nothing to show for it. A flicker of unease crossed her face. Eli’s confidence only grew. She sees it. She feels it.

And when she looked back at Eli—young, bold, striking in the light—she couldn’t help but think: Perhaps he isn’t wrong.

Sumi studied him, her expression unreadable, though softer now. Haruto’s jaw tightened as he stared at his plate, anger and helplessness twisting in his chest. He loved Mei, but the feeling of being powerless gnawed at him. Kenji shifted uneasily, his bravado faltering. Emily’s gaze lingered too long, her lips pressed tight as if his words had stirred something she didn’t want to show. Hana hugged her book to her chest, frowning, her instincts unsettled, yet unable to look away from Eli’s calm confidence.

The room grew quiet. Mei ignored her father’s glare completely and leaned toward her mother instead. She took a breath, steadying herself, as if rehearsing courage. “Mom… about Eli’s living situation. His apartment—it isn’t good. Could he maybe stay here for a few nights?”

Eli waved a hand as if to brush it off, playing the part of the **** guest. “That’s not necessary. I don’t want to impose.”

But Mei pressed on, her voice steady, perfectly in character. “Please. It would mean a lot. Just for a little while. Until things settle.”

Haruto, torn between his love for Mei and his doubt, sighed. “That’s… nice, I suppose. But don’t impose.”

“Of course,” Sumi cut in gently but firmly, before Eli could answer. Her voice was soft, but it carried a quiet authority. “For a few nights. It will be no burden.”

Haruto’s head snapped up. “Sumi—!”

But her gentle look silenced him, a reminder that her word was final. Slowly, painfully, he gave way.

Mei glowed, nearly trembling with joy. “Yes! Eli, let’s go get your things tonight.”

Eli rose, smiling faintly. He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sweeping the table. “I’d also like to spend more time with each of you. Alone. To know you better. That way you’ll see who I really am.”

The women nodded before Haruto could speak. Emily’s lips parted as if to reply, then closed again, her eyes troubled, a faint heat in her cheeks. Hana lowered her eyes quickly, clutching her book tighter, though her ears burned red.

And in Eli’s smile lay the promise: the door had opened. The rest would follow.