One week since the contract marriage. The 38th floor of Grand Veil Akasaka—one of Tokyo's most prestigious high-rise residences. As the morning sun began to rise beyond Tokyo Tower, Tsumugi opened her eyes. She lifted herself from the bed and gazed out the window. The city before dawn. Neon signs still glowed, mingling with the early light in an odd gradient. Watching that interplay of colors, Tsumugi exhaled deeply. (Has it already been a week?) In this sprawling apartment, she had seen Soushi only a handful of times. When she entered the living room, Soushi had already finished breakfast. A newspaper lay spread before him, steam rising from a black coffee. In his gray shirt, he read the morning news with an expression of perfect, icy composure. "Good morning," Tsumugi said softly. Soushi gave a slight nod. Nothing more. No words. (Just as I thought...) This was the scene every morning. They exchanged greetings, then spent the rest of the day in separate worlds. The nights were the same. Dinner was staggered at different times, and their bedrooms faced each other across the hallway. It felt as though they lived under the same roof yet in entirely different worlds. She prepared her own breakfast in the kitchen. Toast. Coffee. The same routine as always. When she opened the refrigerator— (Huh...?) The celery was gone. The celery that had been in the vegetable drawer yesterday. Celery—a vegetable Tsumugi disliked. Whether raw or in soup, that distinctive smell and taste made her stomach turn. And now it had vanished completely. "..............." She glanced toward the living room. Soushi's eyes remained fixed on his newspaper. His expression unchanged. (Must be my imagination...) That's what she wanted to believe. But over this past week, Tsumugi had noticed several things. The entrance lights turning on automatically when she came home late at night. There was no such clause in their contract. The bath temperature always being perfect. Always. The tea left in her room. Someone had prepared it in the middle of the night. And now, this celery. All of it felt like Soushi's consideration. And yet he never mentioned it. As if he'd done nothing at all. Tsumugi was caught in a tangle of conflicting emotions. (What is he thinking...this man?) She bit into her toast. It tasted like nothing. ——— Afternoon. Marunouchi Central Tower—the towering office building at the heart of Tokyo—14th floor. Overseas Procurement Division. The area around her desk remained quiet as always. Within the factional struggles—the rivalries between corporate factions vying for power and profit—no one approached Tsumugi. Only perfunctory work instructions were exchanged. Yesterday, the day before, and today as well. Staring at an Excel spreadsheet, Tsumugi sighed. "Senpai." The voice belonged to her junior colleague, Junichi Okuno. Second year since joining. Black short hair, amber eyes. A small silver piercing on the cartilage of his left ear. At 178 centimeters, he stood a full head taller than Tsumugi. His default expression was serious, though his words sometimes came hesitantly. His face still held youth, but his eyes carried a clear sense of responsibility. Tsumugi looked up. "Yes? What is it?" "Um, well..." Junichi's cheeks flushed slightly. "Lately, senpai, you seem... down. Did something happen?" Genuine concern. His gaze was anything but shallow. This junior colleague often spoke to her. Questions about tasks, work consultations, sometimes even asking her advice about his own mistakes. Every time, Junichi's eyes were direct, giving an impression of unwavering sincerity. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking," Tsumugi said with a smile. But it wasn't her smile—it was a professional one. Her heart was wavering beneath it. Yet Junichi didn't look convinced. Seeing that expression, Tsumugi felt a pang of guilt. "Um..." Junichi spoke again. "Would you like to have lunch together? You've been eating alone lately. Maybe we could go out somewhere...?" The invitation caught Tsumugi off guard. Should she decline? But looking at Junichi's sincere expression, his concern seemed so genuine that she couldn't refuse. "I... suppose that would be nice. Thank you." ——— Café Perla. Three minutes' walk from the office. A large window overlooked a tree-lined avenue. Soft midday light streamed in, brightening the interior. A small café with 32 seats. Lunch sets at 1,200 yen. The two sat by the window. Junichi ordered two lunch sets and sat across from Tsumugi, his posture slightly hunched with embarrassment. "Um, well..." Junichi began. "Senpai, I've always... really respected you." "Eh...?" "You're sincere and honest, kind to everyone. Even in the middle of all this difficult factional conflict, you never try to push anyone down. That kind of thing... I really think it's amazing." Junichi's words tumbled out in a rush. When his emotions rose, his speech quickened. But he stumbled over his words. "That's not true. I'm not..." Tsumugi protested. "No, it really is!" Junichi shook his head firmly. "I want to become like you, senpai. Stronger, more sincere, someone who can act for others." His pure words made Tsumugi's heart waver. (Is this boy... serious?) As she gazed into Junichi's eyes, she felt something inside her beginning to dissolve. Over this past week, frozen in the cold relationship with Soushi, her heart had felt like ice. Now, it seemed to warm just a little. "Junichi..." For the first time in days, Tsumugi smiled with genuine warmth. After that, their conversation flowed easily. Junichi had an innocent quality to him, sometimes a bit scatterbrained. Stories about work failures, his parents back home, favorite foods, a movie he'd recently gotten into. None of it was particularly remarkable, but Tsumugi found it comforting. "And then, you know, the department head got mad at me. 'Junichi, you...' he said." Junichi's imitation made Tsumugi laugh—a real laugh, from deep within. The first genuine laugh in so long. "That does happen, doesn't it?" "You think so too, senpai?" Junichi's eyes brightened. "Oh, but I guess this kind of talk is boring..." "Not at all. Actually, I really like times like this." As Tsumugi said it, her expression truly glowed. For a moment, she glanced out the window. The sky. A blue sky. Midday light. And beyond it, the towering buildings. Somewhere in the upper floors of Marunouchi Central Tower. On the 27th floor, Soushi would be there. A strange unease flickered through her. As if someone were watching... "Senpai?" Junichi's voice pulled her back to reality. "Oh, sorry. It's nothing." She painted on a smile. But deep in her heart, a small seed of anxiety had taken root. ——— The same moment. Marunouchi Central Tower, 27th floor. Corporate Planning Division—the department overseeing the company's strategic direction and business planning. Soushi's private office. Approximately 25 square meters. Black leather sofa, minimal furnishings. From the corner window, all of Tokyo spread below. Soushi stood by the window. Looking down. Café Perla was visible. Two small figures. One was Tsumugi. The other—a young man. Tsumugi was smiling. And not just any smile—a genuine one, the likes of which Soushi had never seen from her. Listening to the man's words, laughing with him. Soushi's grip tightened imperceptibly. His expression remained blank. But in his eyes, a faint anger flickered. "Director." His secretary, Reika, entered with documents. "The materials for the next meeting." But Soushi didn't respond. His gaze remained fixed on the world below. Reika sensed the anomaly. It was rare for Soushi to keep his eyes on the window like this. "...Director?" "Reika," Soushi's voice was cold. "Who is that man?" Reika looked down at the café. Two figures. Café Perla. "Junichi Okuno. Second year in the Food Business Division. Assigned to the Overseas Procurement Division." "Overseas Procurement Division..." The same department as Tsumugi. Which meant they saw each other every day. Something fierce coursed through Soushi's chest. It was jealousy—that intense emotion born when another's standing seemed to surpass one's own, when one's position or relationship felt threatened. Yet Soushi could not name this feeling. For a man who had spent years suppressing his emotions, this was entirely new. Over this past week, Soushi had acted for Tsumugi without conscious intention. Removing foods she disliked, automating the entrance lights to account for her arrival time, adjusting the bath temperature, brewing tea in the dead of night. All of it had sprung naturally from the emotion he was beginning to harbor—a protective instinct, a hunger for intimacy. But he would not call it "consideration." Because consideration came from emotion, and Soushi refused to acknowledge that. Yet now, watching Tsumugi laugh with another man, that hidden emotion rose to the surface. (Continue monitoring.) Those words carried more than mere instruction. They were the desire to protect his domain, the wish not to lose Tsumugi—a longing that contradicted his pride. Reika placed the documents on his desk and quietly withdrew. But Soushi's eyes remained fixed on the window. At Café Perla, Tsumugi was still smiling. That smile was one he had never seen before. (What is this... sensation?) A tightness deep in his chest. Was it anger, or— No. Soushi could not put a name to such feelings. He had sealed away emotion. For so long, he had turned his back on that troublesome thing called feeling. And yet, seeing Tsumugi's smile, that seal began to crack. (This is a contract. Emotion is... unnecessary.) He told himself this. But the words rang hollow. Beyond the window, at Café Perla, Tsumugi continued to smile. Soushi was a man who could sense his own transformation beginning, yet could not bring himself to acknowledge it.