Wednesday morning. The third sales department floor of Solarium Tower's 12th level carried its usual tension. Ayano Rinzaki was at her desk, reviewing proposal materials for an important client—Nacht Medical. It had taken three days to create. She'd verified the logical structure and figures multiple times. She wouldn't call it her masterpiece, but she thought Division Chief Kurosawa would be satisfied with it. "Division Chief Kurosawa, the materials are ready." She carried the printed documents to Kurosawa Masato's office. A 40-year-old division chief. A man known by the nickname "demon." His glass-walled office had its blinds half-drawn as always. Through the gap, his sharp gaze seemed to monitor the outside—that was the impression he gave. Kurosawa put on his glasses and glanced over the materials. For Ayano, that moment felt eternal. "This level won't cut it." Just one sentence. But the weight of those words was immeasurable. "Your logical structure is weak. The basis for your figures is flimsy. You won't be able to convince the client's management with this." Ayano's heart seemed to stop for a moment. "Redo it completely. Have it on my desk by 3 PM." "...Understood." She had no words to return. She looked down and clutched the materials closer. Her finger unconsciously touched the small braid behind her left ear—a nervous habit. With her fingertip gently touching the braid, Ayano left the office. The 12th floor fell completely silent at that moment. None of the surrounding employees looked at Ayano. There was an unconscious fear among them all that if they directed their gaze toward her, they might become the next target. (Where did I go wrong......) Back at her desk, Ayano projected the materials onto her screen and began reviewing them. Logical structure. Basis for figures. Phrasing. She went through them again and again. But she couldn't understand where it "won't cut it." What was the standard Kurosawa was looking for? What did "perfection" mean to him? That incomprehension slowly tightened around her heart. 1 PM. Her colleague Tanaka called out to her. "Ayano, did you eat lunch?" "...Ah, no, not yet." "The cafeteria's pretty crowded. But you won't be able to keep going without eating." Ayano nodded slightly, but ultimately didn't head to the cafeteria. It felt wasteful to spend time eating. Instead, she bought coffee from a vending machine and faced the materials while drinking it at her desk. 3 PM. Kurosawa didn't leave his office. Ayano couldn't complete the new materials. There wasn't enough time. She took a deep breath and managed to put together presentable materials, then brought them to Kurosawa's office again. "I've revised the materials." Kurosawa accepted the materials and turned the pages. He didn't look up. Then, eventually, he closed his eyes. "I told you. 'Completely,' I said." "I sincerely apologize." "If apologies were enough, we wouldn't need a sales department. Nacht Medical is your account. This isn't your failure—it's this department's failure. I'll have to report it to the headquarters director." She had no words to return. Being reported to Sales Director Takumi Yabuki. Those words pushed Ayano further into a corner. "Finish it tonight. Have it on my desk by 6 AM tomorrow." "...Yes. Understood." Ayano returned to her desk. The surrounding employees were already preparing to leave. 6 PM. Most would normally be heading home by this time. But Ayano remained seated in front of her screen. 8 PM. Only Ayano's light and the distant light from Kurosawa's private office were on in the 12th floor. Midnight. Fatigue was evident in her eyes. But it still wasn't finished. She reviewed the logical structure, added figures, recreated graphs. She still couldn't see the standard Kurosawa was looking for. Her hands had stopped many times already. (I have to keep trying......) Repeating those words to herself over and over, Ayano's fingers continued typing on the keyboard. After 1 AM. Finally, the materials were complete. Ayano pressed the print button and gripped the output documents. The old scar on the back of her hand caught the fluorescent light. An accident from childhood. Staring at that scar, she took a deep breath. She got home after 2 AM. Apartment "Grand Via Ebisu, Room 303." She didn't even have the energy to shower. Ayano collapsed onto her bed. At that moment, her smartphone vibrated. From that anonymous number again. A message appeared: "Are you pushing yourself too hard? There's someone watching your efforts carefully." Ayano almost burst into tears. Did they know about today's overtime? Did they know about the Nacht Medical situation? Impulsively, she replied: "Are you really watching? I'm doing so badly......" A response came immediately: "Yes. Always. You're working hard enough. You don't need to be perfect. You're enough just as you are." The moment she read those words, tears spilled from Ayano's eyes. During the day, Division Chief Kurosawa kept telling her "this level won't cut it." But this person was different. This person accepted her completely. Warmth transmitted through the screen. Embraced by that warmth, Ayano unconsciously held her smartphone to her chest. In the dark room in the middle of the night, she read the message over and over. "You don't need to be perfect. You're enough just as you are." How much those words saved her. The coldness of daytime and the gentleness of night. That contrast shook Ayano's heart deeply. "Thank you. I feel a little better because of you." She typed into the screen and sent it. A response came immediately: "I'm glad. Please rest now. We'll do our best again tomorrow." And Ayano replied: "Yes. Good night." She set down her smartphone and stared at the ceiling. (Who is this person......) Even as she thought that, Ayano smiled softly. The next morning. Before heading to work, she looked at the messages again. Last night's exchange remained on her smartphone screen. "You're enough just as you are." Burning those words into her eyes, Ayano headed toward Solarium Tower. Division Chief Kurosawa's strictness might not change. But if she thought this person would be there at night—if she thought of someone who would give her such kind words—she felt she could endure it. Yet at the same time, a small anxiety was beginning to take root. (Is this really okay......) Was it right to open her heart this much to an anonymous relationship? Who was this person really? When she found out their identity, wouldn't everything come crashing down? Feeling that precariousness, Ayano still couldn't stop. She had begun waiting for nightfall, somewhere deep in her heart.