11 a.m. The open floor of the Sales Department One. Tsumugi's eyes wouldn't leave the document on her computer screen. The proposal she'd received revision instructions on from Director Yabuki—she'd perfected it last night. This morning, she'd brought it to his office and gotten his evaluation: "This should be fine." Just those words had blown away a full night's exhaustion. But now she was checking materials to submit that proposal. Client explanation documents, presentation slides, answers to potential questions. The work piled up endlessly. Tsumugi let out a small breath and placed her hands on the keyboard. At this company, getting one proposal approved wasn't the end. It was just the beginning. The weight of results-based pressure bore down on her. "Tsumugi, you're making that difficult face again!" A bright voice suddenly came from the next desk. She turned to find Hasegawa Fuki looking at her. She was 25, a sales associate hired the same year as Tsumugi. Her brown short hair suited her well, and she was always smiling. In her casually worn office attire, she was the complete opposite of Tsumugi—bright and positive no matter what. "Fuki, you're working again?" Tsumugi gave a wry smile. Looking at Fuki's desk, papers were scattered everywhere. But she was ignoring them, spinning her chair around playfully instead. "I'm not slacking!" Fuki winked and leaned forward. A sweet scent drifted from her hair. "Taking breaks is important. You need to relax sometimes too, Tsumugi." "I suppose..." Tsumugi nodded, but deep down she couldn't accept Fuki's words honestly. Relaxation was a luxury. She had no right to settle down until her work was perfect. That's when Fuki's gaze shifted for a moment toward the director's office. The glass-walled private room. Director Yabuki stood there, gazing out at the scenery beyond the window. A 34-year-old man in a black suit. Fuki stared at his refined features for several seconds. Tsumugi didn't miss how her expression softened just slightly. (Ah...) A small tremor stirred in Tsumugi's chest. "Fuki..." "Hmm?" Fuki turned back. Her usual bright smile had returned. But something seemed hidden in her eyes. "Never mind." Tsumugi let her words trail off. 12:50 p.m. The two of them left the office. Trattoria Cervo—an Italian restaurant three minutes on foot from Lagrange Shibaura Tower. Because it was close to the main building, the lunch rush was packed with Lagrange employees. In this 38-seat restaurant, several colleagues from the sales department sat scattered across different tables. The two took a table in the back. Through the window, the Tokyo cityscape spread out. Pedestrians passing by, cars running, blue sky. Just an ordinary weekday afternoon. "The usual?" Fuki asked. "Yes. Pasta lunch." "Same." The waiter came to take their order. The owner-chef Shibazaki Yota was a Lagrange alumnus, a former salesman. He knew the company's inner workings well and was sometimes known as a source of office gossip. Once the order was placed, Fuki leaned forward. Both elbows on the table, chin resting in her hands. It was her habit when she wanted to say something. "Hey, hey, Director Yabuki..." Tsumugi swallowed the water she'd been about to drink. "Director Yabuki...?" "He's scary, but... he's cool, right?" The words came out lightly, casually. But what reached Tsumugi's ears was something more. Fuki's gaze had fallen to the table. Her hair hid her face between the strands. "Huh...?" Tsumugi reacted without choosing her words carefully. "You're saying that about the director...?" "No, no, don't you think so objectively?" Fuki lifted her face. She'd recovered her smile. But it was subtly different from her genuine smile from before. A manufactured one. "The director's good at his job, he got promoted fast. Usually a sales department director is in their 40s, right? But Director Yabuki is 34..." "That's... true." Tsumugi answered. But her words were distant. Last night's message came back to her. *'You worked hard today. Don't push yourself too hard.'* *'I've been watching your efforts. That's a wonderful proposal.'* Who wrote those gentle words? When she'd faced Director Yabuki in his office this morning, she'd felt something soft in his expression. But that was probably just her imagination. Director Yabuki was always cold. (But Fuki...) Tsumugi looked at Fuki sitting beside her. She was checking her smartphone while waiting for lunch to arrive. Her profile was different from that brief moment earlier. Something troubled in her expression. "Fuki... what do you really think about the director?" Tsumugi asked carefully, choosing her words. "Huh?" Fuki looked up. Something flickered in her eyes. Wariness, maybe. Or embarrassment. "What do I think? Just my professional evaluation. The director is excellent as a sales department director..." "Ah... yes." Tsumugi couldn't be satisfied with that answer. Fuki's words and her expression contradicted each other. Soon the pasta arrived. Warm steam rose from the plates. Fuki picked up her fork. "But he's scary, you know? Director Yabuki." Fuki murmured it suddenly. "He's always expressionless, and you can't tell what he's thinking. But..." Her words stopped there. Fuki took a bite of pasta. Chewing with childlike innocence. "But...?" Tsumugi prompted her to continue. "Maybe that's why I'm curious. The director seems like he's hiding some secret, doesn't he? On the surface he's strict, but really he's..." That's when it happened. *Clink.* The shop door opened. Both their gazes naturally turned toward the entrance. Standing there was Director Yabuki. In casual clothes. A black shirt and beige chinos. Completely different from his work suit, but his atmosphere remained unchanged. Or rather, casual wear emphasized his outline even more. His shoulders, his features—everything refined. Director Yabuki nodded to the staff and sat at the counter, away from their table. Tsumugi's heart gave a heavy thud. (Ah...) Under the table, Tsumugi's hand was gripped. Fuki was holding her hand. Fuki whispered softly. "Wow, the director came too. What do we do, Tsumugi?" "Just eat normally." Tsumugi answered. Her voice was calm. But her heart was racing. Director Yabuki was drinking water. His profile showed no emotion as always. But Tsumugi didn't miss it. Once, Director Yabuki's gaze turned toward their table. Just for an instant. But it definitely happened. Fuki continued whispering softly. "He really is cool..." A small sigh escaped. Tsumugi looked at Fuki's profile. (Fuki... maybe she really does like the director...) The moment she thought that, a small discomfort was born in Tsumugi's heart. If Fuki liked the director, then why? How did she feel? Last night's message. That moment in the director's office this morning. And now, this moment. Director Yabuki's gaze. Fuki's sigh. Everything shook Tsumugi's heart. At 2 p.m., back in the office, Tsumugi couldn't stop thinking about Fuki's behavior. She was acting bright as usual. Talking to other colleagues, laughing. But every time Director Yabuki passed nearby, she sent her gaze toward him. Careful glances, hidden ones. And Tsumugi became certain. (Fuki likes the director.) At the same time, she noticed something else being born deep in her own chest. What was it? Jealousy? Or something different? Tsumugi took out her smartphone. She reread last night's messages. *'You worked hard today. Don't push yourself too hard.'* *'I've been watching your efforts. That's a wonderful proposal.'* Were these really from Director Yabuki? Looking toward the director's office, Yabuki was reviewing some documents. Still expressionless as always. But his gaze seemed to turn toward the floor where they worked from time to time. A small flutter began in Tsumugi's chest. And between her and Fuki, a subtle premonition of change hung in the air.