Harrison returned home past midnight, greeted by the sound of a melodic piano drifting from the second floor.

He paused, helmet in hand, and glanced up the stairs. After several moments of hesitation, he entered his room.

By the time he finished freshening up, the music still lingered.

Only now, the notes sounded chaotic, the tempo frantic—less like a performance and more like an emotional outburst.

This woman... What kind of stunt is she ...