Hana's mug was there. White, cheap-looking, the kind of thing you'd buy at a convenience store. Just an ordinary mug. But Ren couldn't bring himself to put it away. He'd been sitting in the management strategy office of Crossfield Tower since morning. His computer screen was still open. But his fingers wouldn't move. The meeting materials, the numbers—everything looked hazy to him. (Where is she right now) Thinking about it wouldn't give him an answer. He knew that. And yet he couldn't stop thinking about it. His secretary brought documents. Ren said, "Later," and she withdrew. Silence returned. After noon, Ren went back to the penthouse once. He couldn't quite explain why. He just had to go back. He turned on the living room lights. It was quiet. No humming. No sound of things being dropped. No vacant, careless presence of the refrigerator being opened. Nothing. On the kitchen counter was a bag from Komuginokaze. From yesterday—no, not yesterday. From a morning further back. Walnut bread and melon bread still sat inside, untouched. Ren opened the refrigerator. There was nothing in it. He closed it. He sat at the table and looked at the mug. It was the one Hana had bought in her first week. "Everything at home feels so business-like, I can't relax," she'd said, pulling it from the convenience store bag and washing it. (Why didn't I throw that away back then) He couldn't throw it away. That was all. The room was utterly silent. He knew this. He knew this feeling well. Winter, when he was fourteen. The hospital corridor. That night when he came home—it was exactly the same as that silence. Ren stood up and reached for the melon bread. His fingers brushed it, then stopped. He put it back in the bag. "[cold]……It's a pain," He muttered it under his breath. But his voice dissolved into the room's silence. --- He returned to the office late in the afternoon. The door to the management strategy room opened. It wasn't his secretary. Mano Sumi walked in. Long black hair with a faint purple highlight. A navy pantsuit that left no openings. Emerald green eyes looked straight at Ren. "[serious]I heard from the reception desk about the appointment. If it's a joint investment meeting, we can use another room——" "[sarcastic]That girl left, didn't she" Ren's words stopped mid-sentence. Sumi came into the room without hesitation and sat on the sofa. She crossed her legs. A practiced motion. The natural posture of someone who'd been in this room before. "[cold]I'll discuss the meeting details," "[sarcastic]How long have you been here?" "……" "[sarcastic]Your computer's been open the whole time, and you haven't done anything. Your secretary was troubled in the hallway. That's rare," Ren said nothing. He didn't deny it. Something flickered in the depths of Sumi's eyes. Ren didn't know what it was. Or rather—he did know. Because he knew, he looked away. A woman who'd been beside him for two years. "[sarcastic]I've never seen you unable to concentrate on work. ……You're serious about that girl, aren't you" "It's irrelevant," "[sarcastic]Well, I suppose," Sumi stood up. She adjusted her bag. "[serious]I'm going to see that girl tonight. I found out she's near Sota's clinic," Ren's expression shifted slightly. "[cold]Don't do anything unnecessary," "[sarcastic]Unfortunately, that's my decision to make," The door closed. Ren stood motionless. --- Three minutes' walk from Ono Clinic, there's a small shop called "Café Morino." First floor of an old mixed-use building. Only eight seats. From the window seat, you can see the residential streets of Bunkyo Ward in the twilight. When Hana received the message from Sumi, she'd initially decided not to go. But the line "I have something I'd like to talk about" caught her attention. She'd heard a little about Sumi from Sota—that she was Ren's ex-girlfriend. When she entered the café, Sumi was already seated. Emerald green eyes looked at Hana. Not appraising. Just looking—precisely, accurately. "[serious]Sit," Hana sat across from her. She ordered coffee. Sumi had already drunk half of hers. For a while, neither of them said anything. A streetcar passed outside the window. The evening light slanted in at an angle. Sumi opened her mouth. "[serious]That person can never truly fall in love with anyone," Hana's hand stopped above her cup. "[serious]I was with him for two years. I waited the whole time. But that person's heart was locked—and no one could get in. He wouldn't let anyone in. I left not because I wasn't loved, but because I understood that the day he would love me would never come," Her voice was calm. Not emotional. Rather, it sounded like she was stating facts. That made it cut deeper. Hana paused for a moment. She didn't think Sumi was lying. These were the words of someone who'd spent two years with him. They carried a different weight. But. (But I——) "[gentle]……He really did buy me melon bread," Sumi tilted her head slightly. "[gentle]He took the train all the way to Yanaka shopping street to buy it. When he found out I liked it……he put melon bread from Komuginokaze on the counter every morning. He never explained it once," Sumi's movements stopped. "[gentle]The night I had a fever, he left Pocari Sweat by my pillow. And……he's been paying all of my father's medical bills at the clinic without saying a word," Her voice was quiet. Hana wasn't blaming Sumi. She was simply putting facts into words. Sumi's expression began to change, slowly. "[serious]……All the way to Yanaka," "[gentle]Yes," Sumi's eyes slowly looked down. (Ren did that) Two years. Two years beside him. But he'd never taken the train to buy something for her. Reservations were always made by his secretary. Gifts came from a professional gift service. He never tried to choose them himself. That's what she thought Ren was. But. Something shattered in the depths of Sumi's eyes. A single tear fell. Sumi hurried to wipe it away. She tried to compose her expression. But it didn't work. "[whispers]……I see. That person changed," Her voice was small. Like she was telling herself something. Sumi stood up. Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up her bag. "[sarcastic]If you give up on him, I'll take him," She said that and left the café. Hana watched Sumi's back through the window. The figure walking down the twilight street was strong and straight—but somehow, it looked tired. Hana took a sip of her coffee. It was cold. (What am I feeling right now) Near Sota's clinic. In an apartment Sota had arranged for her, she would sleep tonight. Warm, safe, a place where no one would be hurt. And yet. The moment she talked about the melon bread, something in her chest grew warm. She couldn't pretend not to understand what that was anymore. --- The cemetery in Tokyo was quiet in the June twilight. Ren came alone. Every year, he comes alone on this day. The anniversary of his mother's death—Kurosaki Ayako. He stood before the gravestone. He placed flowers. He lit incense. For a while, he said nothing. The evening breeze swayed the incense smoke. (Mom) He called her name only in his mouth. It was hard to say it aloud, somehow. But tonight, he felt he had to say it. "[whispers]……I was afraid of falling in love," His voice cracked slightly. "[whispers]I was afraid of losing again. So I made it a contract. I created rules to keep emotion out. I thought that way I wouldn't get hurt," The gravestone said nothing. "[whispers]But——a room without her is like the house after you died, Mom. Empty," Once he said it, he couldn't stop. Empty. Truly empty. The same kind of void that had spread through his chest in the winter when he was fourteen was expanding again in the center of his heart. Back then, he'd thought this emptiness would last forever. Now——he thought it might be possible to get it back. There might still be time. That terrified him. What if there wasn't time. (But if I don't go, there's definitely no time) Ren took a step away from the gravestone. "[whispers]……I'm going," That's all he said. --- Night. The lights at Ono Clinic were still on. Ren stood in front of the automatic doors. The young female receptionist looked up. "[serious]Visiting hours are over. Do you have an appointment?" "[cold]Call Ono Sota for me," "[serious]The director is currently with a patient——" "[cold]It's urgent. Please," He didn't step back. The staff member looked a bit troubled but headed to the back. A few minutes later, Sota came out. Still in his white coat. His pale silver curly hair was slightly disheveled from work. Golden eyes looked at Ren. Not surprised. Like he'd been prepared. The two faced each other in the entrance. "[cold]……Hana," He started to speak, then faltered. The words "give her back" caught on his pride. Something was in the way. "[cold]Hana is safer by my side," Sota's face showed exasperation for just a moment. "[serious]……Is that supposed to be a confession," "[cold]……" "[serious]That's hilarious," But Sota didn't laugh. After a moment, he looked straight into Ren's eyes. His gaze was serious. "[serious]You're serious about Hana," Ren couldn't say anything. That silence—the inability to speak—was the answer. Sota was quiet for a moment. The night wind blew. The clinic's outdoor light cast the shadows of both men on the ground. Something passed across Sota's face. Frustration, resignation, and——something oddly refreshing. The face of someone quietly setting down something they'd carried in their heart for years. "[gentle]……Understood," It was a short word. But its weight reached Ren. Sota looked away for a moment, then back at Ren. "[serious]Go home tonight. I won't tell you where she is," "[cold]……" "[serious]Hana decides. Not you," Ren didn't argue. He couldn't. Sota's words were right. The automatic doors closed. Sota's figure disappeared into the back of the clinic. Ren stood alone in front of the clinic. The night in Bunkyo Ward was quiet. A cat cried somewhere in the distance. Warm light glowed in a window of some house. Hana was somewhere in this town. Somewhere in this quiet residential street. Ren put his hand in his pocket. He turned on his heel and began to walk. He would go home tonight. Tomorrow——tomorrow, he would speak with his own words. Not with pride, not with contracts, not with strange excuses about being "safe." For the first time, properly, from his own mouth. The night wind swayed the red mesh in his black hair.