Musono Seiya's office building, Kumo Holdings, 22nd floor. October morning had arrived. The sound of a copy machine. A phone ringing. Keyboard clicks. All the same as yesterday. But something was different. It took Kiryu Ryuichi thirty seconds after sitting at his desk to notice that "difference." No one was talking to him. More precisely, no one was looking at him. Their gazes would slip away. When a junior colleague passed in front of Ryuichi's desk in the hallway, their eyes were about to meet—then whoosh—as if nothing was there. (Ah. So that's how it is.) Yesterday's handover of responsibilities had already spread throughout the company. Ryuichi booted up his computer and checked his desk. The folders from client companies that had been stacked until yesterday were gone. In their place was a clip binding white A4 paper and a single sticky note. "Receipt sorting and data entry. Requested by accounting department," written in unfamiliar handwriting. Sales support. That was Ryuichi's job starting today. He picked up the bundle of papers. Receipts. PDF data of internal documents. Materials from some department that had failed to digitize—apparently spanning several years. Ryuichi stared at them for a while, then carefully placed them beside his desk. Before touching them, he thought he'd get some coffee. The break room was at the end of the 22nd floor. He walked down a short hallway. Partway there, he passed Tasaki, a third-year junior colleague. The moment Tasaki saw Ryuichi's face, he froze with a smile still on his face—then said with a beat's delay, "O-oh, good morning." His voice was slightly strained. "Morning," Ryuichi replied simply. There was something apologetic in Tasaki's eyes. Ryuichi didn't blame him. If he'd spoken up, people might think "he's connected to this." That kind of calculation worked unconsciously. After more than ten years at this company, Ryuichi understood that atmosphere well. He poured coffee and returned to his seat. He started sorting receipts. One by one, checking dates and amounts, entering them into Excel. Simple work. No thinking required. Conversely, he couldn't help but think. While his hands moved, his mind wandered elsewhere. —That night when he'd rushed out. When Seiya had said "there was no reason to tell you," Ryuichi had silently stood up from the sofa. Was that right? Was it wrong? He still didn't know. But the feeling that he should have stayed a little longer and listened hadn't left him since last night. It became noon. When he went down to the employee cafeteria—5th floor, 400 seats—the lunch rush was just beginning. Ryuichi picked up a tray and got in line. Today's set meal was breaded pork cutlet, miso soup, and a small side dish. He took them and sat at a table by the edge. The next table was loud. Four men, maybe second-year employees, were laughing hysterically at something. He couldn't make out what, but they seemed to be having fun. Ryuichi cut off a piece of the pork cutlet with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth. It had taste. But partway through eating, his motivation suddenly drained away. Half the pork cutlet remained. The miso soup was still there too. Ryuichi looked at them and thought that sitting here like this was somehow terribly difficult today. He tried to stand up and his elbow hit the edge of the tray. Splash. Miso soup splattered on his necktie. "..." The surrounding gazes gathered for a moment, then scattered. Ryuichi moved the tray aside and grabbed a napkin. Pressing the necktie, he headed to the restroom. He stood in front of the sink rather than going into a stall, carefully pressing the stain with damp tissue. His face was reflected in the mirror. Suit. Necktie. A hand pressing the wet spot. A face with thin expression. Ryuichi looked at that face for a few seconds. This is my position now, he thought. If he'd said it out loud, he really would have felt miserable, so he swallowed hard. He threw away the tissue, went back to the cafeteria, and ate the remaining pork cutlet cleanly. --- The afternoon receipt sorting took three hours. Ryuichi worked silently. Carefully, without mistakes. That was all he could do today. After four o'clock, his phone vibrated. He had two phones—one for work, one personal. The vibration was from the personal one. Ryuichi quietly took out the device he'd put in his desk drawer. He checked the screen. The name "Misono Seiya" appeared on the display. Just one line of message. "Do you have time tonight?" Ryuichi stared at that screen for about forty seconds. Should he reply or not? Should he go or not? The awkwardness from last night, after he'd rushed out without saying anything, still caught in his chest. But—Seiya had contacted him. That alone seemed to decide something in Ryuichi. In less time than he'd spent hesitating, Ryuichi typed his reply. "I'll be there." After sending it, he realized something himself. He'd hesitated, yet his reply was quick. --- He arrived in Ginza 8-chome after eleven at night. The October night air crawled across the asphalt. Ryuichi entered the Ginsei Building. When the elevator displayed 6 and the doors opened, he could see a black-lacquered door at the end of the hallway. Yajima was standing in front of it. When Yajima recognized Ryuichi, he silently stepped aside. Permission to pass. No voice, no expression. The solidly built former Self-Defense Force officer in black never used unnecessary words. For Ryuichi, that was actually easier. "Thank you for your service," Ryuichi said briefly. Yajima gave a small nod and pushed the door open for him. The shop was quiet. Only indirect lighting created a soft glow. No hostesses, no customers. The jazz BGM seemed louder than usual. A Kyoto yuzen scroll on the wall floated in the dim light. Seiya was waiting, seated on a stool at the counter. Tonight's kimono was a deep green. Fine gold thread embroidery was sewn throughout, glowing dully under the indirect lighting. Black hair caught the light around her shoulders. Amber eyes turned toward where Ryuichi had entered. She showed no surprise. Her expression said she'd known he would come—but whether that was welcome or merely prediction, Ryuichi couldn't tell. "Please," Seiya indicated the seat across from her at the counter. Ryuichi quietly sat down. After a moment, Seiya brought a small teapot and a tea cup, placing them in front of him. Steam rose thinly. "Thank you," Ryuichi said. He picked up the cup and tried to take a sip. It's hot. His face twisted involuntarily. His mouth nearly burned. "Let it cool a bit first," Seiya said quietly. Just one sentence. Her tone was as usual, but that single line seemed to ease the room's tense atmosphere by just a centimeter. Ryuichi set the cup back on the table and fell silent for a while. What should he say first? Where should he start continuing from last night? Seiya didn't try to speak first either. She just stood on the counter side, watching him quietly. Eventually, Seiya began speaking first. "...After you left last week," she said. Her voice had changed. More than her business voice—something from deeper inside. "I've been thinking I wanted to talk about it properly if I could," she continued. Ryuichi looked at Seiya's face. "Please tell me," he said. --- Seiya began with a story from when she was twenty-three. There was debt in her family. Options were limited. She entered the night world because she couldn't see another path, Seiya said in a controlled tone. Not a high voice, not a low voice—just matter-of-fact, like laying out facts. She met Takatsukasa Genzou during that period. "In exchange for funding, I was told to think of Getsunotou as my shop," Seiya said. Her words fell quietly into the shop. "...That's how it started," she continued. Part of Getsunotou's sales were reported to Takatsukasa every month. Which customers came, what conversations happened—important information reached Takatsukasa's ears without Seiya knowing. Since the funds that created Getsunotou came from Takatsukasa, she couldn't completely sever that pipeline. Ryuichi listened silently. The look in Takatsukasa's eyes in the chairman's office last week when he'd said "the shop called Getsunotou"—the meaning of that change finally took form now. It wasn't "I know about it." It was "it's mine." "Over five years, I've been gradually paying it back. I've also been blocking the flow of information as much as I could," Seiya said. Her finger lightly touched the rim of the tea cup. "I'm not completely free—but I've been fighting," she said. That phrase "I've been fighting" struck something in Ryuichi's chest. Not pain, exactly. But it definitely touched something. Seiya continued. "The reason I didn't tell you was—" There was a pause. "—I didn't want to drag you into it," she said. Ryuichi looked at the tea cup in front of him. It should have cooled by now, but he couldn't bring himself to pick it up. —Didn't want to drag me into it. He couldn't quite read what lay beneath those words. But he understood that her silence wasn't from indifference. She'd cared, so she'd stayed quiet. That much was clear. Understanding that, Ryuichi realized that the version of himself from last week—more than clumsy, just pathetic. He'd moved on emotion alone, knowing nothing of what Seiya had been doing for five years. The shop was quiet. Only jazz flowed low. --- After a long silence, Ryuichi spoke. "...I'm sorry for rushing out last week," he said. Seiya showed slight surprise at him starting with an apology. Her eyebrows moved just a little. Ryuichi didn't look away. "I've been doing everything alone too. Just work—like I had nothing else," he said. Words came out. Not smoothly. But they came. "When I heard your story, I thought we were similar. The types of loneliness might be different, but—you've been fighting alone, continuously, just like me," he said. He was surprised at himself for saying such things. "I won't run away," he said. Short and simple. Not a cool declaration. His voice trembled slightly. But he didn't look away. It felt like that was closer to the truth than having perfect words. Seiya looked at him for a while. Seconds passed. "...Thank you," she said quietly. Just that. But the weight of that single phrase seemed to narrow the distance across this counter just slightly. A heavy silence continued for a while. Jazz. Indirect lighting. The scroll on the wall. Ryuichi couldn't bear the silence and spoke impulsively. "Um...could I have another cup of this tea?" he asked. Seiya laughed quietly. Her mouth relaxed just a little. That was all. But Ryuichi felt like he was seeing it for the first time. "Are you staying because you're uncomfortable leaving?" she asked. "...Not exactly," Ryuichi said. "The teapot is already empty," Seiya said. "I see," Ryuichi said. "But I can boil water. It'll be quick," Seiya said. "Then please," Ryuichi said. Seiya stood and headed toward the hot water equipment. Ryuichi rested his elbow on the counter and looked up at the ceiling. Stupid, he thought. But it wasn't bad. --- He left Getsunotou close to midnight. Yajima opened the door for him. Ryuichi gave a light bow and got into the elevator. The doors closed. He was alone. When he descended to the Ginsei Building lobby, the night air of Ginza flowed in from the entrance. It was cool, carrying the scent of stone pavement. Ryuichi went outside and walked for a while. He didn't feel like calling a taxi. Seiya's words from earlier kept circling in his head. Entering the night world at twenty-three. Having Takatsukasa provide funds to create Getsunotou. Spending five years trying to stand on her own feet, bit by bit. Ryuichi looked at his own hands. His assigned clients were gone. His position in the company had vanished. When Takatsukasa Genzou had begun moving Reimei-kai—the unofficial network he'd created fift