That document I'd found on the desk in the CEO's office the evening before — I couldn't get it out of my head, no matter how hard I tried. My own employee ID photo. There it was, mixed in among the bundle of victim lists. (What was that?) Curled up in her futon, Yui turned the same thoughts over and over. The distant lights outside the window blurred through her tears. Her body was exhausted, yet a restless buzzing filled the back of her mind, and even with her eyes closed, sleep refused to come. Before she knew it, pale morning light was slipping through the gap in the curtains. She'd barely slept at all. Even so, she had to go to the office. She put on her suit like always, rode the same train as always. But inside her chest, everything was a tangled mess. When she reached the General Affairs floor on the eighth floor, Yui sat down at her desk. She powered on her computer. The screen glowed. She tried to type in the expense report figures, but her fingers stopped. Where she was supposed to enter 106,840 yen, she kept typing the wrong numbers. Her fingers trembled. (No, that's not right.) She pressed the delete key. Retyped. On the third attempt, she finally managed to enter the correct number. She let out a small breath of relief — and then promptly sent an internal email meant for the entire General Affairs department to the Sales department alone, for some reason. "[surprised]O-oh, um...!" Her voice cracked. Her hand, rushing to send a follow-up, sent the mouse skidding across the desk. Why was this happening? It felt like she was ceasing to be herself. "[gentle]Yui-san, are you alright?" When she looked up, Sawada was standing in front of her desk, his expression worried. Her senior colleague with the short black hair, always so calm. His gentle brown eyes behind his glasses were gazing steadily at her face. Yui forced a smile. "[gentle]I-I'm fine. I'm just a little sleep-deprived, that's all..." "[sad]...Is that so. Still, that's your third mistake just this morning. If something's going on, I'd like you to talk to me about it." Her voice might have been shaking. Sawada opened his mouth as if to say something more, but then just said "Okay" and returned to his own seat. That was when the atmosphere on the floor changed. The murmur of voices receded, like a wave pulling back. She knew without even looking up. Ren was passing through the eighth floor. Yui instinctively grabbed a document from her desk and held it up in front of her face. The paper rustled. At the edge of her vision, a tall figure walked past the aisle. Platinum-silver hair gleamed coldly under the fluorescent lights. Ren didn't look her way. (Don't look.) She gripped the edge of the document tightly. Her fingertips went white. Even after Ren had passed through the floor, Yui couldn't lower the document for a while. Because she knew — if she lowered it, her eyes would follow his back on their own. (Even though I don't want to look.) (Even though I wanted to end it all already.) Why did her eyes chase after him against her will? She clenched her fists tightly on her lap. The lunch break chime rang. Sawada came back to Yui's desk and spoke quietly. "[gentle]Yui-san, why don't we go get some fresh air outside? There's something I want to talk about." The two of them sat down on a bench in a small park a short distance from the headquarters building. The November air was cold, and the nearly bare branches, stripped of most of their leaves, traced thin lines against the gray sky. Sawada was silent for a while. She could see his fingertips trembling slightly. "[serious]Yui-san. There's something I absolutely need to show you today." Sawada took out his smartphone and opened his photo folder. His hand was trembling faintly. On the screen was the face of a young woman. From her cheek down to her jaw, the skin was red and inflamed, discolored in patches. Painful, raw scars. "[sad]This is... my older sister." Yui caught her breath. "[sad]A few years ago, she had a skin reaction to a product from another cosmetics company. For a while, she couldn't even go outside. She shut herself up in her room. ...I did a lot of research on this company, too. I've known for a long time about the kind of cover-ups Rise Cosmetics has been involved in." Sawada's voice was quiet. But within that quietness, she could feel the suppressed anger packed tightly inside. "[serious]That's why, from the bottom of my heart, I can't forgive this company's cruelty. I've been carrying that inside me all this time." The smartphone screen Ren had shown her at the open-air bath in Hakone came flooding back. A young woman, smiling. Ren's younger sister. (That person, and Sawada-senpai's sister, too.) They carried the same pain. She felt the anger and sorrow in her chest quietly connecting, linking together. "[serious]But, Yui-san. If, hypothetically, what the CEO is trying to do isn't just revenge — if it's to expose the truth — then..." Sawada's words dropped a small seed deep in Yui's chest. (To expose... the truth.) Was that what the photo in those documents was about? But she still couldn't believe it. To believe, the fear was too great — the fear that that cold, expressionless face might have been using her as a tool all along. Yui couldn't say anything. The words just swirled around inside her chest, never making it out of her mouth. "[gentle]Even if you're planning to quit the company, Yui-san — before you run away, I want you to confirm the answer." Sawada looked straight at Yui. She was dimly aware of something — some special emotion — welling up in the depths of his eyes. But right now, she didn't have the capacity to think about that. Her heart was too full of her own turmoil. She worked until evening. Mistake after mistake, and Sawada covered for her again and again. When quitting time came, Yui left the office in a daze. Night. Back at her apartment in Nakano, Yui sat in front of her small desk. The leaves of her houseplant swayed slightly in the breeze coming through the window. On the desk lay a white envelope and a single sheet of resignation paper. The hand gripping the ballpoint pen trembled. She wrote the opening phrase — "Due to personal circumstances" — but the characters shook and warped, and she had to rewrite it over and over. She crumpled up the ruined sheets and threw them in the trash. On the third sheet, she finally managed to write something legible. She signed her name at the bottom and placed it in the envelope. The moment she slipped it into her bag, her body felt just a little lighter. (I can end it.) (With this, I can put an end to it.) But — before she ended it, there was something she absolutely had to ask. (Did that person...) (See me as nothing but a tool from the very beginning?) She would confirm it properly, and then end it. Yui stood up. She looked at the clock — it was still only 9:30 at night. The Rise Cosmetics headquarters building towered against the darkness of the night. An eighteen-story glass-walled building. The entrance was already closed, and only the security guard in the guardroom sat beneath the lights. Yui held up her employee IC card and entered through the service entrance. The elevator hall was empty. No sign of the cleaning staff, either. She pressed the button and waited for the elevator. (I can't get into the CEO's office.) The executive floor on the sixteenth floor was inaccessible without biometric authentication. Yui's IC card could only take her up to the eighth floor. And yet, she had come anyway. (Even though I hadn't even decided what to do.) The elevator arrived. The doors opened. No one was inside. Yui stepped in. She leaned a hand against the wall and let out a sigh. The cold metal felt good against her palm. She pressed the button for the eighth floor. The doors were just about to close — in that instant — She heard footsteps running down the corridor. Yui's heart gave a single, violent leap. Through the gap of the closing doors, a man in a suit slipped inside. The doors shut. The two of them, alone in the sealed room. Platinum-silver hair. Cold blue eyes. It was Ren. Ren merely glanced at Yui and said nothing. The same expressionless face as always. He pressed a button. The sixteenth floor lit up. The silence was heavy. Only the low hum of the elevator motor resonated softly. Yui's hand gripped the handle of her bag tightly. Now. There was no time but now. "[scared]Um... I saw the documents." Her voice was so shaky and small that even she could barely make it out. But Ren's eyes moved — just the slightest bit. Yui continued. "[crying]In the victim list... my photo was there." Her voice trembled. Tears welled up unbidden, blurring her vision. "[crying]Was I... just a tool to you, too, from the very beginning?" Ren didn't answer. (Why won't you say anything?) Was it enough just to use my body — the words she was about to say tore apart in the back of her throat and became a sob. "[crying]Hic... ugh..." Ren simply looked down at Yui in silence. To Yui, that silence sounded like confirmation. (I knew it.) (It was all a lie.) The buzzer announcing the eighth floor sounded. The doors opened. Yui gathered her things and tried to flee. In that instant, a powerful grip seized her right arm. Her body was pulled back. In her swaying vision, she saw Ren's long fingers press the close button. The doors shut again. The elevator began to move. Ren pressed Yui's back against the cold wall. There was no escape. When she looked up, Ren's face was right there. So close she could almost feel his breath. The usual cold, expressionless mask — was gone. Ren's eyebrows were furrowed, just slightly. His blue eyes were narrowed, almost painfully so. His lips parted, as if to speak. "[whispers]You, at least —" It was a hoarse voice. (You, at least.) She thought the rest was coming. But Ren closed his mouth. As if something had stopped in the back of his throat, the words vanished. Ren slowly averted his eyes. And then, he released Yui's arm. His hand fell away. The rest of the words never came. The elevator arrived at the first floor. With the sound of the buzzer, the doors opened. Yui forced her stumbling legs to move desperately and fled from the elevator. She ran through the entrance hall. When she got outside, the cold November night air cooled her flushed cheeks. The streetlights of Roppongi cast a dim glow on Yui's shadow. She stopped. She was out of breath. The tears wouldn't stop. (You, at least, are different.) She thought that was what he had been about to say. She thought so, but she couldn't be sure. The rest of the words were still inside Ren's mouth. The resignation letter was in her bag. And yet, her feet wouldn't move. In the cold air, Yui just stood there, frozen in front of the building. You, at least — Those four syllables kept spinning around and around in her head, pinning her feet to the spot.