Sazuki Nagihara, a 24-year-old sales representative at an advertising firm, lives in fear of her boss—the infamous department head Masato Watase, known for his ruthless perfectionism and cold demeanor. Every day he scolds her more harshly than anyone else, earning them a reputation as a disaster pairing.
But everything changes one night when Nagihara receives a mysterious message. "You did your best today." "You're doing just fine." The sender is Watase himself—her tyrannical boss hides a gentl
Monday morning. The third floor of the Akasaka Tōei Building's sales department was already in work mode. Just before Nagihara Satsuki took her seat at her desk, the intercom rang. It was from Department Head Watase.
Her fingertips trembled slightly.
Dressed in a navy cardigan, Nagihara made her way to Watase Yuto's private office. Her black hair, which fell to her shoulders, swayed as if symbolizing her tension. Her left thumb and index finger unconsciously began rubbing the hem of her skirt.
"Excuse me."
When she opened the door, Watase stared at her with cold eyes. At just 32 years old, he oversaw the entire sales department and was known for his perfectionism. In truth, that reputation wasn't quite accurate. The correct assessment among colleagues was: "abnormally strict only toward Nagihara Satsuki."
"Last week's presentation materials."
On the desk lay the beverage company proposal that Nagihara had desperately created over the weekend. Watase returned it to her, marked up in red pen, with a dismissive gesture.
"You're missing the client's perspective. You've done nothing but explain the product's features. Why is this product necessary? How does it appeal to customer psychology? Redo it completely."
"Yes. I sincerely apologize."
Nagihara bowed her head. She had no words to offer in return. In her three years working in sales at an advertising agency, a superior's orders were absolute. Watase's gaze was merciless, observing her as if reading between the lines of the document.
"And the deadline is today. Time management is part of the job. Do you understand?"
"Yes. I will submit it by end of business today."
That single phrase was Nagihara's only response. As she left the office, she practically retreated backward.
Back on the sales floor, her colleague Kashiwagi Kohei watched her with concern. At 28, the popular salesman always treated those around him with kindness.
"Nagihara, are you alright? Did Watase get to you again?"
Kashiwagi's words were gentle. But Nagihara forced a smile. "I'm fine." In the sales department, showing weakness to colleagues was unthinkable. Or so she believed.
Afternoon into late night. Nagihara's desk was piled high with materials needing revision. Under the harsh fluorescent lights, she sat alone, fingers flying across the keyboard.
The beverage maker wanted an "approach to younger demographics." The product was actually a nutritional drink with a new concept. It needed to appeal not just to athletes, but to students and working adults as well. Nagihara reworked the concept again and again. She created graphs, reorganized data, reconsidered catchphrases.
Past 1 AM.
She looked up and saw her reflection in the office window. Thin purple shadows hung beneath her eyes. Her cheeks were hollow, her lips pale.
*Why am I working for this?*
The weak thought surfaced, but she immediately suppressed it. Work had to be done seriously. It was the only merit Nagihara Satsuki possessed.
Past 2 AM, the materials were finally complete. Nagihara collapsed into the office chair, then made her way home. The train from Akasaka to Jingumae. The walk from the station to her apartment. Everything was mechanical.
Maison Harukaze—a 12-year-old one-room apartment in Jingumae. When she reached her third-floor unit, Nagihara threw herself onto the bed still in her suit, like discarded trash.
But she didn't let go of her smartphone.
Opening the screen, there was a notification on the messaging app "Liite." From an anonymous account: "yoru_no_niwa."
This account had been sending her messages for two weeks.
【yoru_no_niwa】
"You worked hard today too. You're doing enough. Tomorrow will surely be a good day."
Nagihara had no idea who this was. But these words were her only emotional support right now. Every night, when work pushed her to the edge, when exhaustion threatened to break her spirit, this message arrived. Somehow, it made her feel like she could try again tomorrow.
Her eyes grew hot. Tears traced her cheeks.
Tonight's message ended with something different from usual.
"I've always remembered the day you were crying."
Her heart jumped violently.
*Does this person... know me?*
Nagihara stared at the screen, unable to move. Did the sender of this message know who she was? If so, who were they? Someone from work? Or someone from her past?
She tried to search her memory, but it was shrouded in fog. Her childhood memories were especially vague. She could only remember fragments from when she was nine. There had been a transfer, she thought. She'd had friends, she thought. But nothing remained in clear form.
Nagihara began typing a response, then stopped.
If she asked the sender, these kind messages might stop coming. That fear kept her from moving.
She didn't send a reply. Instead, she turned off the screen.
The next morning, the alarm clock rang. She'd slept three hours. Nagihara lay still, staring at the ceiling.
She showered and dressed in a white blouse and gray skirt—her usual sales outfit. A silver fountain pen in her left breast pocket. Just below her collarbone was a small star-shaped scar from a childhood fall. She pinned her left hair back with a small silver clip.
And back to Akasaka.
She entered Watase's office with the completed materials.
Watase reviewed the revised document in silence for several seconds. Nagihara's heart pounded.
"Well... passing grade."
At those brief words, Nagihara let out a relieved sigh.
But Watase continued.
"However, next time, finish faster. Time management is part of the job. We have an obligation to meet our clients' expectations—the ones paying us. Anyone who can't do that is unnecessary to this company."
"Yes."
That single word was her answer. As she left the office, her heart was filled with complicated emotions.
Walking back to her desk, Nagihara couldn't stop thinking about last night's message.
*"I've always remembered the day you were crying."*
What day was that referring to?
And who was this person?
Something stirred in the depths of Nagihara's memory. In the fog, something important seemed to be calling out. But the voice didn't reach her.
The story began to move quietly, suspended between mystery and everyday life.
That evening, when Nagihara opened her smartphone after returning home, another message had arrived.
【yoru_no_niwa】
"Looks like the materials went well. Someone is always watching your efforts. Don't forget that."
Nagihara gripped the screen. This person really is watching me.
*Who... who are you?*
She started to type that, then stopped again. She was afraid of the answer. Afraid of learning the truth behind this kindness.
The sales floor at night was empty beneath the fluorescent lights. Only Watase's office had its light on. He was always here, working. As the perfect superior. As a strict mentor.
On his desk sat a smartphone. The Liite app was open on the screen.
Watase's finger moved slowly across the display.
And he typed out another message to send.
Novelia is an AI-powered platform to read original light novels and fan fiction, create your own in just a few taps, and chat with the characters. New, illustrated episodes arrive daily — free to start.