Morning sunlight streamed through the high floors of Marunouchi Central Tower. Tsumugi sat at her desk by the window, acutely aware that she had been drawn into the vortex of factional conflict. With chestnut-brown hair tied back neatly, she occupied a modest seat in the Overseas Procurement Division on the fourteenth floor—a simple white blouse, a gray knee-length skirt, and a navy cardigan. A delicate gold earring on her left ear caught the light. Her face was framed by shoulder-length black hair in a natural straight bob with a gentle inward curl. Her eyes were a calm chestnut brown—deep, round, and acutely sensitive to the emotions of others. Slender and healthy at 162 centimeters tall, she wore understated accessories. Her skin held a translucent quality, with faint freckles scattered across her cheeks. Yet beneath that serene exterior, Tsumugi's inner world was fracturing. "You've been eating lunch alone lately, Tsumugi." A coworker's words from yesterday wouldn't leave her mind. It wasn't concern—it was a clear signal of distance. She belonged to neither the mainstream faction nor the reformists. She had become an outsider in the factional struggle. Department Chief Shibata Kengo approached her desk. Fifty-two years old, mild-mannered, supposedly indifferent to factions—even he had begun looking at her coldly. "You're not affiliated with any faction lately, are you?" It was pressure, disguised as kindness. Tsumugi felt it acutely. The unspoken rule had shifted: not belonging to a faction was no longer acceptable. Lunch break. Tsumugi stopped at the entrance to the employee cafeteria. Over the past few days, whenever she sat alone, her coworkers' gazes unconsciously turned cold. So today would be the same. She had already resigned herself to it. She glanced at her smartphone. Messages from her cohort—people she used to eat with regularly—had dried up. *(This can't go on...)* The anxiety grew with each passing day. Five years into her career. In the Overseas Procurement Division of the Food Business Unit, she had handled sourcing food ingredients from Southeast Asia. She had never complained. She had worked earnestly, sincerely, with consideration for those around her. So why— Her smartphone chimed. Subject: "Today 3 PM, Executive Reception Room, 30th Floor" From: Central Corporation Human Resources Department Tsumugi's heart leaped. The 30th floor was the executive level. Could it be... 2:55 PM. Tsumugi stood before the elevator on the 30th floor. She straightened her appearance and took a deep breath. Something significant was about to happen. A promotion, perhaps? Or a transfer? She knocked on the heavy door. "Come in." The reception room was not what she had imagined. Instead of a conference table, black leather sofas were arranged. And the man sitting there would change everything in an instant. Aoshi Himuro. Thirty-two years old. Short black hair. Sharp gray eyes. Clad in an expensive suit, his bearing was perfectly calculated. The word "cold-blooded" suited him perfectly. Director of Strategic Planning at Central Corporation—that was his title. Aoshi looked at her. His gaze was like that of a doctor observing a specimen. Devoid of warmth. "Sit." It was a command. Tsumugi obeyed without thinking. Aoshi silently placed a document before her. "Contract marriage." For a moment, Tsumugi couldn't comprehend the words. Her thoughts froze. Contract... marriage? "Two years. Eight hundred thousand yen per month. I need you." Aoshi's voice was flat. As if discussing the weather, he spoke of marriage with such emotional detachment. Not a proposal—more like an order. "I... what?" She couldn't even form words. Her mind couldn't catch up. "You're caught in factional conflict. You belong to neither side. I'll use that position. For two years, behave as my wife. That's all." The presence of Aoshi Himuro was overwhelming. His words left no room for resistance. As if he were simply stating an already-decided fact. "If you refuse, I won't guarantee your position here." With that single sentence, everything was decided. In other words, if she didn't accept, her standing would deteriorate further. She might even lose her job. Tsumugi's hands trembled. She picked up a pen. She signed the contract. Eight hundred thousand yen per month—approximately 2.5 times her current salary. Her father's medical expenses. The maintenance of her family home. *(This isn't... a choice.)* She told herself this was not coercion but a contract. A form of business. If she didn't think of it that way, her heart would shatter. The pen fell against the paper. The signature was complete. Aoshi took the document and glanced at it. "Starting tomorrow. Grand Veil Akasaka, 38th floor, Minato Ward. Your belongings have already been moved. As long as you follow the basic rules, I won't interfere." "Um, I..." Just as Tsumugi tried to speak, Aoshi was already standing. "There's nothing more to discuss. Leave." His coldness, his cruelty—Tsumugi fought back tears with all her strength. —— That night. Grand Veil Akasaka. A luxury tower in Minato Ward, Akasaka. Forty-two stories, 186 units. One of Tokyo's most prestigious properties. 38th floor. When the elevator doors opened, Tsumugi caught her breath. Through floor-to-ceiling windows, Tokyo Tower was visible. A 115-square-meter 3LDK. The furniture was minimal but refined. The living room was so vast that her presence felt insignificant. Aoshi pointed to the back of the living room. "Your room is there. Follow the basic rules." With that, he disappeared into his own room. Left alone, Tsumugi sank onto the sofa. She stared at the contract. Eight hundred thousand yen per month. Two years. Basic rules. None of it felt real. Tears spilled over. Was it frustration? Fear? Or simply exhaustion? She didn't know what emotion was overwhelming her, so she covered her face. Then she noticed something. Steam was rising from the bathroom. Without warning, Aoshi had prepared a bath for her. That wordless consideration stirred something complicated in her chest. *(What is he thinking... this man?)* She bathed. The temperature was perfect. Her weary body found a little relief. Yet that kindness only tightened the grip around her heart. After the bath. When she returned to the living room, a warm cup of tea sat on the table. Aoshi was nowhere to be seen. Tsumugi picked up the tea. Its warmth traveled through her palms. She gazed out at the night cityscape. Tokyo Tower glowed red. Countless lights painted the entire city. "Is this... the path I chose?" As she whispered those words, Tsumugi realized something for the first time. She had never really had a choice. What awaited her—a woman who belonged to no faction—was this contract or unemployment. Nothing else. Yet the small gestures—the perfectly adjusted bath temperature, the tea—made her heart waver. Aoshi Himuro was cold and merciless. But perhaps he harbored something else as well— *(What is he really thinking?)* The light in the adjacent room went out. Aoshi had gone to sleep. Tsumugi quietly drank her tea. Beneath the bitterness lay a faint sweetness. It was like genuine emotion hidden within a false relationship. Imprisoned in a contract masquerading as marriage, Tsumugi's long two years were beginning. A time when she would be tossed about by unexpected feelings. Outside the window, Tokyo's night continued to shine with indifferent beauty.