That's wrong, she thought. She understood it in her head. She understood it — and yet her body wouldn't stop trembling. Monday night, Makoto fled back to her apartment in Nakano, and the moment she shut the front door, she collapsed right there on the spot. The night view of Roppongi, the luxurious sofa at Grand Chario — all of it felt impossibly distant now. The only reality was this 1K apartment, fifteen years old, seventy-eight thousand yen a month in rent. *(That man... was the president.)* Kurosaki Kei. The man who'd sat beside her at Bar Vesper, radiating that dangerous allure. Black hair with red streaks, golden eyes. The man who'd held her so tenderly on Friday night — today, he'd stood on the podium with ice-cold eyes and declared a ban on workplace romance. Without even turning on the air conditioner, Makoto sat on the floor, still in her skirt. *(A temp worker... slept with the president.)* Just forming the words in her mind sent a sharp, twisting pain through her stomach. Disciplinary dismissal. Those four characters flashed through her head. Eighteen hundred yen an hour. A separate locker from the full-time employees. The seats at the back of the company cafeteria. Even so, she had no choice but to keep working here. Because, after all, she wasn't special. That was what she'd told herself — and she'd desperately made it through the week. Her phone vibrated. A LINE message from Ami. *'You okay? Tell me right away if anything happens.'* Makoto replied with just *'I'm okay, thank you.'* A lie. There was no way she was okay. But how was she supposed to explain? *More than a friend — I, um, slept with the president?* Makoto unbuttoned her blouse and collapsed onto the bed just as she was. When she closed her eyes, the sensations of that night came flooding back. The feel of Kurosaki's lips, the low voice whispering in her ear, and the scent of morning coffee. *(Let's meet again.)* Those words — now they felt like nothing but a curse. --- Tuesday morning, Makoto arrived at the office having barely slept. The Kurosaki Holdings headquarters building in Roppongi. A thirty-eight-story glass tower piercing the overcast sky. In the open atrium lobby on the first floor, Italian marble gleamed coldly, and the see-through security gates seemed more intimidating than ever. *(It's fine. No one knows about yesterday.)* She told herself this as she lined up in the queue for temp workers. The full-time employees around her paid her no attention, same as always. That indifference — this morning, she was actually grateful for it. As she was organizing her things at the small temp staff locker, her phone rang out in unison with countless others. The notification sound for an all-staff email. Makoto glanced at the screen without thinking. *'Notice of Personnel Transfer'* *'Effective today, temp employee Saeki Makoto of the General Affairs Department is appointed as Personal Secretary to the President.'* Her fingers stopped. Her breath stopped. *(What... is this?)* The air in the locker room shifted. The temp workers who'd been ignoring Makoto until now all turned to look at her at once. Curious stares. Jealous stares. Bewildered stares. "[whispers] Hey, did that girl do something?" "A temp as personal secretary — isn't that completely unheard of?" The whispers sounded unnaturally loud. Makoto, still clutching her phone, fled from the room. --- The thirty-seventh floor. The floor where the executive offices and secretarial department were lined up. The moment the elevator doors opened, the air was different. Not the temperature of the climate control — it was the coldness created by the gazes of the people there. When she opened the door to the secretarial office, three women looked up simultaneously. All of them were full-time senior secretaries. The veteran secretary sitting at the desk furthest back slowly stood up. "[cold] Saeki-san, is it? Your desk is over here." A woman in her mid-forties, with tightly bound black hair and narrow eyes behind glasses that left a strong impression. She pointed to the desk positioned closest to the president's office. The other two secretaries exchanged glances. "[cold] There's no temp staff locker on this floor, so please just leave your belongings somewhere for now. It seems your access rights to the internal systems are still restricted as well." "It's a position beyond your station, so at the very least, please don't hold us back." The remaining secretary looked Makoto up and down as if appraising her. "I have no idea what the president is thinking." She deliberately trailed off, smiling only with her mouth. *(That's what I want to know more than anyone.)* Makoto sat down at the designated desk, her head hung low. The seniors' stares pierced into her back. A temp worker as personal secretary to the president. And what's more, secretary to a president who had just issued a ban on workplace romance immediately upon taking office. She was in a position where she had no defense against anything they said. The internal phone on the desk rang. "[serious] Saeki-san, the president is calling for you. The president's office on the thirty-eighth floor." Feeling like her heart might leap out of her mouth, Makoto stood up. --- The thirty-eighth floor. The top floor. Standing before the heavy wooden door, Makoto knocked with a trembling hand. "[cold] Enter." The same voice as that night. But the temperature was different. Cold. A voice like a knife made of ice. When she opened the door, Kurosaki was sitting at his desk in a suit. He didn't look up from his documents. Even when Makoto entered, he didn't so much as glance her way. "[cold] You're late. When I call, come immediately." "I-I'm sorry..." "[cold] Manage the schedule thoroughly. Report all visitors immediately. Bring no personal emotions into this whatsoever. That is all." Was this really the same man who had kissed her so gently that night? Confused, Makoto somehow managed to force out her voice. "[quiet] Yes..." In that instant, Kurosaki stood up. He swiftly approached the door and locked it. The click of the lock echoed unnaturally loud. "Huh...?" Before Makoto could even raise her voice, he grabbed her arm. He pushed her against the wall with strong force. The cold feel of the wall against her back. Right in front of her were Kurosaki's golden eyes. "[whispers] You ran away quite nicely last night." The voice whispered in her ear had the same sweetness as that night at the bar, and Makoto's body froze in an instant. "Presi...dent..." "[whispers] I won't let anyone touch you here. You belong to me." Kurosaki's fingers traced along Makoto's nape. Just like that night — but now, there was a different weight to it. This wasn't mere tenderness. It was something deeper, darker. Kurosaki's lips touched her neck. Just then, there was a knock at the door. "[serious] President, the preparations for the meeting are complete." Kurosaki's hand pulled away. In a mere instant, the sweetness vanished from his face, and the mask of the cold-hearted executive returned. "[cold] That concludes our discussion. Return to your desk." Makoto left the room on unsteady legs. In the hallway, she passed the senior secretary. Her cold gaze caught, for just a moment, Makoto's disheveled hair and the faint red mark on her neck. --- Past noon, the internal phone rang again. "[cold] Brew coffee in the break room." She couldn't imagine the president was the type to brew his own coffee, but Makoto headed to the break room as ordered. A cramped space of about four and a half tatami mats. A coffee maker, a small sink, mugs lined up on a shelf. As Makoto was setting the filter, she heard the door open behind her. Before she could turn around, a warm sensation pressed against her back. "[whispers] I wanted to see you." Hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. Her back pressed perfectly against Kurosaki's chest. The cramped break room. If anyone came in, it would unquestionably be the end. "President, someone might come... there's a ban on workplace romance..." Her voice trembled. She was scared, yet somehow, she couldn't bring herself to say no. "[whispers] I'm the one who made the ban. I'll be the one to break it." The voice whispered in her ear resonated deep within her body. Kurosaki's hand gripped Makoto's chin, tilting her face upward. A forceful kiss. The bitter scent of coffee and Kurosaki's own scent mingled in her mouth. His tongue slipped inside. Deep, and hard. Kurosaki's hand reached the hem of her skirt. In that instant, the sound of footsteps approached from the hallway. *Click, click, click.* The two of them instantly pulled apart. As if nothing had happened, Kurosaki picked up the pot from the coffee maker and poured it into a cup. "[cold] Not bad." Saying just that, he left the break room. Left alone, Makoto stood frozen, one hand against the wall. Her knees were shaking. *(What is he doing to me? Why can't I say I hate it?)* Confusion and a faint pleasure mixed together, making the back of her eyes burn hot. She reached out to turn off the coffee maker, but her fingers wouldn't move properly. --- In the evening, Makoto came alone to the company cafeteria on the third floor. The area for temp workers was at the very back, far from the windows, with slightly dimmer lighting. Makoto sat before the simple meal on her tray, just staring down. *(I don't want to think about anything anymore today.)* Just then, the atmosphere in the cafeteria changed. "[sarcastic] Oh my, isn't that the president's *special* secretary?" When she looked up, three female employees were standing in front of her. The one in the center was Shiono Shiori, who worked at the café "Soixante." A woman with long, curled brown hair and flashy makeup. Makoto had seen her a few times at the second-floor café. She was always surrounded by full-time employees, laughing happily. "I heard your pillow-for-promotion efforts paid off? For a temp, that's really something." Shiori's voice echoed throughout the cafeteria. The surrounding employees all turned to look at Makoto at once. "Is it true you picked up the president at a bar? There's a limit to how shameless you can be." "Well, there's always a certain number of people who climb the ladder using their bodies like that." The three of them cackled loudly. Snickers leaked out from all around the cafeteria. The blood drained from Makoto's face. She couldn't say anything. There was no way she could. The things she could deny and the things she couldn't swirled chaotically in her head, blurring her vision. *(It's not true, it's not.)* But there were parts that weren't entirely false. Sleeping with Kurosaki was a fact. And if asked whether that was why she got this position, she couldn't definitively say no. She didn't even understand her own feelings anymore. Makoto stood up. Leaving her half-eaten lunch on the tray, she broke into a run. "[laughing] She ran away. So it really is true after all." Shiori's mocking voice chased after her from behind. Makoto dashed through the hallway and burst into the women's restroom. She shut herself in a stall, closed the toilet lid, and sat down. She cried, stifling her voice. *(Is this my fault? Or did Kurosaki-san orchestrate all of it?)* She didn't understand anything. She didn't even know who she could talk to. She couldn't tell Ami. She couldn't tell anyone in the company. It was complete and utter loneliness. She didn't know how much time had passed. There was a knock on the restroom door. "[gentle] Saeki-san? Are you okay?" A young man's voice. Makoto held her breath. "[gentle] It's me, Takahashi. From the neighboring department — we joined at the same time. I heard something happened in the cafeteria, and I was worried. You don't have to push yourself, but if you ever want to talk... I'm happy to listen, if