He was still caught up in last night. That distance. His hand frozen in the space between touching and not touching. The fading presence receding down the hallway. A brief pause before the door—then those footsteps, walking away. (What was that, anyway?) Tsumugi lowered her gaze to her desk and stared at the Excel spreadsheet. But nothing was sinking in. Even with documents on Southeast Asian food ingredient procurement spread before her, her eyes kept sliding off the numbers. From the window of Marunouchi Central Tower's 14th floor, Tokyo Station's platform was visible in the distance. A morning shinkansen glided slowly into view, small and deliberate. Another clear autumn morning. The sky hung high and transparent. Then her smartphone vibrated. She checked the sender, and her chest tightened. A notification from CentralNex—the internal chat system used by all Central Corporation employees for business communications. The sender: Soushi Himuro. The message was brief. 【Accompany me to Hotel The Prestige Tokyo at 17:00 tonight. Clothing will be delivered to the apartment after work.】 That was all. No reason. No details about the event. No mention of who would be there. Nothing. Just a command, written in the same tone as any ordinary work memo. As if ordering his wife to attend was the most natural thing in the world. Tsumugi flipped her phone face-down on the desk. (A formal dinner. Can I really hold myself together as a fake wife?) Lunch break came. Usually, Junichi would call out to her around this time. But today—before he could approach, Tsumugi found herself frozen, staring at her phone. "[surprised]Um, Senpai... are you alright?" She looked up. Junichi was watching her from across the desk with concern. His chestnut-brown shoulder-length hair caught the fluorescent light, gleaming slightly brighter. The silver piercing in his left ear swayed gently. "[gentle]I'm fine. Just thinking about something." "I was wondering if you'd like to grab lunch together, but... does it seem difficult today?" Junichi's voice was more subdued than usual. Over these past few days, he'd been making an effort to be considerate—Tsumugi could tell. She'd been turning him down constantly. "[sad]I'm sorry. Something came up suddenly this evening. I need to prepare a bit." It wasn't a lie. But it wasn't the whole truth either. Junichi nodded quietly. "I see." His expression clouded slightly—and Tsumugi saw it. (I'm sorry, Junichi.) She apologized silently in her heart and stood from her desk. Junichi watched her back disappear with a complicated expression. —— She left the office just after 4 PM. When she returned to the 38th floor of Grand Veil Akasaka, a large white box sat beside the entrance. Black ribbon with a brand logo. The paper had a subtle luxury to it. When she opened the lid, a navy dress lay folded carefully inside. "[surprised]...So I'm supposed to wear this?" She murmured to herself, to no one in particular. When she picked it up, it was lighter than expected. The skirt hem flowed down smoothly. The line from shoulder to back was simple, yet refined. She changed and stood before the mirror. Even she was a little surprised. This wasn't the office worker she saw every day. Her spine straightened naturally. She looked again, still adjusting to the height of the heels. Then she sensed a presence in the living room. She turned. Soushi stood in the doorway. Black suit. White shirt. A deep navy tie—matching the color of the dress. Intentional or coincidence, she couldn't tell. His features were sharp, his expression as cold as always. But—for just a moment, his gaze stopped on her. Only seconds. Then, without a word, he looked away. "[cold]Let's go." He turned and headed for the door. Tsumugi watched his back. (That moment... it wasn't my imagination, was it?) —— The car was silent. From Grand Veil Akasaka to Hotel The Prestige Tokyo in Chiyoda Ward's Nagata-cho—about fifteen minutes by car. Soushi's black Lexus cut through the night capital. The scenery flowed past. Building lights, bridge reflections, the night colors wavering on the river's surface. Tsumugi kept her gaze on the window. Soushi sat beside her. This distance was indescribable. Close, yet distant. In the same car, yet breathing different air entirely. She glanced sideways. Soushi gripped the steering wheel, eyes fixed ahead. His hands seemed to carry a faint tension. (Is he nervous? Even him?) She knew that couldn't be true. And yet, somehow, that thought brought her a small measure of relief. —— Hotel The Prestige Tokyo—a five-star establishment in Chiyoda Ward's Nagata-cho, used for Central Corporation's important business entertainment—17th floor. When they entered the French restaurant "Etoile," the executives from the client company were already seated. Soushi escorted her with natural grace. His hand settled lightly on her back. Her heart skipped. His palm touched her back through the thin fabric. That was all. But her body froze for an instant. Whether Soushi noticed or not—his expression didn't change. He simply looked ahead, quiet and composed. As they took their seats, the executives greeted them with warm smiles. Two older men. Both had a gentle air about them, and the atmosphere wasn't particularly stiff. "This is our first time meeting the wife of Director Himuro. You seem quite intelligent." "[gentle]Thank you. I'm Tsumugi. My husband has always been kind to us." Her voice came out steadier than she expected. She was a little surprised at herself. Dinner began. The conversation flowed from business matters to recent happenings, hobbies. Soushi guided the discussion smoothly, occasionally turning the conversation toward Tsumugi with natural ease. She could tell it was calculated—designed to present them as a convincing "married couple." When the third course arrived, one of the executives turned to them with a gentle smile. "By the way, how did you two meet?" There was a pause. Tsumugi and Soushi opened their mouths almost simultaneously. "[serious]At the company." "[serious]At the company." Their voices aligned perfectly. The executive laughed with delight. "Ha ha, you're perfectly in sync! A workplace romance—how lovely." Tsumugi felt heat rise to her cheeks. She couldn't bring herself to look at Soushi. She reached for her glass, turning her gaze away. Beside her, she sensed Soushi adjusting his wine glass. The movement was fractionally delayed. (Did he... just falter too?) It made no sense. And yet, for just an instant, she'd seen tension grip his fingers as he held the glass. Dinner continued smoothly after that. Tsumugi maintained her smile while her mind quietly circled back to that moment, again and again. —— They arrived home after 10 PM. Past the Grand Veil Akasaka entrance, up to the 38th floor. With each step down the hallway, her heels struck the hard floor. Her feet, unaccustomed to such heights after hours of standing and walking, were beginning to ache in earnest. As she stepped through the apartment door, Tsumugi stumbled slightly. She reached for the wall. As she bent to remove her heels, her ankle suddenly felt weak. "—Sit." A voice. A small chair was drawn toward her from the side of the entrance. When she looked, Soushi had already pulled out the little chair beside the door. A single word. His expression unchanged. But his movements were decisive, without hesitation. "[surprised]...Thank you." She lowered herself onto the chair hesitantly. Soushi crouched down, his gaze falling to her feet. The distance was close. (Is he going to...?) Instinctively, she drew her foot back slightly. Soushi didn't look up. He saw her movement and paused. "[cold]...Can you remove your shoes yourself?" His voice was low. The emotional undertone was hard to read. But somehow—it seemed softer than usual. Just slightly. "[gentle]I'm fine." "I see." Soushi stood. His suit jacket swayed. He turned toward his room—and paused at the door. "[cold]Don't push yourself." With that, the door closed quietly. Tsumugi remained seated in the entryway for a long moment, unable to move. Slowly, she removed her heels. The cold floor against her bare feet felt like reality pulling her back. (It's just consideration for the contract. That's all it is.) She told herself that. But something deep in her chest wouldn't settle. She kept replaying the tone of his voice. "Can you remove your shoes yourself?"—spoken in that low voice, in that way. Could someone who spoke like that really be just a contractual arrangement? —— The next morning, when Tsumugi arrived at the Overseas Procurement Division, a senior colleague was watching her with a meaningful expression. "Hey, were you at The Prestige Tokyo yesterday?" Tsumugi went rigid. "How did you...?" "I have a friend who works there as a waiter. He said he saw Director Himuro with a woman in a really beautiful navy dress. And he said they seemed like a natural married couple—their conversation was so comfortable." Last night was already spreading. Tsumugi smiled vaguely and said, "I need to step out for a moment," before leaving her desk. In the hallway, she leaned her back against the wall. After a moment, footsteps approached. She looked up. Junichi was returning from the break room. When he saw her, his expression shifted. "Senpai, are you okay? Your complexion looks—" Tsumugi shook her head. "I'm fine," she answered, while part of her mind drifted elsewhere. Eventually, Junichi would hear it too. That story about the "natural married couple" from last night. When that happened, what expression should she wear? What words could she use to explain? Tsumugi still had no answer.