8 PM. The third sales department floor of the Akasaka ASK Building, eighth level. Someone had been left behind. Riko Ayase. Twenty-four years old. Second year as a sales assistant. Short black bob cut, the hair above her left ear trimmed slightly longer, catching the fluorescent light in a pale gleam. Deep brown eyes behind black-rimmed glasses held the exhausted glow of fatigue. Her slender frame sank into the office chair like a doll. The desk was buried under stacks of documents. Traces of last week's failed presentation scattered everywhere. ——*Even if it's not perfect, moving forward is what matters.* The words from last night's anonymous message still lingered in her heart. Riko stared at the monitor. Client materials for submission. Proofreading. Recalculating estimates. Printing presentation slides for tomorrow's meeting. There was no end to it. She picked up a pen, scanning sticky notes. Her boss's red marks covered them. Nothing but nitpicks. "——This is wrong too." She muttered alone in the empty office. The Akasaka night view through the window glowed with neon. She could almost hear the lively voices from izakayas around TBS Akasaka Sacas. Her colleagues from other sales departments and the planning room had definitely already left for drinks. Only Riko remained. No. Her boss remained too. Shinichiro Mizuuchi sat at the department head's desk by the window. Thirty-six years old. Known for perfectionism, the third sales department's director. Called "The Ice Wall Miura" around the office. When she looked up, he was scanning documents with no expression. Sharp eyes behind glasses traced small text. His face still held traces of youth, but his expression held not a shred of softness. Riko was afraid to even look at him. Just this afternoon, he'd coldly pointed out her mistake on the estimate. "Ayase, the numbers on yesterday's estimate are wrong." That single sentence had felt like her heart stopped completely. She had to be perfect. Under Director Mizuuchi, there was no other way to survive. That's what Riko felt in her bones. She twisted her left hand's fingers tight. An unconscious habit. It was already past 11 PM. Shouldn't she go home? But tomorrow's meeting materials weren't finished. The director was still at his desk. He would never say "Go home early." That was an unspoken rule. As long as the boss was here, the subordinates couldn't leave. That old custom still lingered in this department. Riko turned back to the monitor. She checked each Excel number one by one. Estimate amounts. Client proposals. Everything had to be flawless. She noticed her fingertips trembling over the keyboard. She was exhausted. Her heart was breaking. 12:30 AM. Finally, Riko left the office. The elevator doors closed just as Director Mizuuchi's expressionless face disappeared from view. He was still at his desk. She headed toward Akasaka Station. The night streets bustled with people holding drinks. Passing the izakaya "Akagushi," she heard her colleagues' laughter. They were tilting amber beer, laughing happily. Riko hurried past that place. Twenty minutes on the subway. She arrived at Nakameguro Station. Maison Fiore Nakameguro was a seven-minute walk from the station. A twelve-year-old seven-story building, but the lobby was kept clean. Riko rented a small 1K room on the third floor, 25 square meters. Rent was 82,000 yen—over 25 percent of her salary, a steep expense. But the window overlooked the Meguro River, and that view nourished her heart. She opened the door. A thin night breeze blew in from the balcony. She sank into the sofa. Not the bed—the sofa. When Riko came home from work, she had no energy to head straight to bed. She picked up her smartphone. She opened the SNS app. Her account: "@rico_sketch." An account where she posted hobby illustrations. About 1,200 followers. Not a professional artist—just sharing a hobby. She checked her direct messages. ——A message from the same account as last night had arrived. "@silent_north_star" No profile picture. No post history. Zero followers, zero following. A complete mystery account. She opened the message. *'You worked hard today too. Don't worry too much about the estimate mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. What matters is what you do after. You'll be fine, I'm sure of it.'* Riko held her breath. Who is this person? Last night's message said "I'm watching your hard work." This one was more specific. They knew about the estimate mistake. That was information only a handful of people in the office would know. It was scary. That's what she thought. But at the same time, these words wrapped around her heart. *"You'll be fine, I'm sure of it."* Someone believed in her. Riko headed to bed. She lay down, staring at the phone screen. She read the message over and over again. She wanted to reply. She typed. *'Who are you?'* She hit send. No reply came. She waited until dawn. No reply. _____ The next morning, 8:50 AM. Riko arrived at the office ten minutes early. Akasaka ASK Building, eighth floor. The third sales department floor was still quiet. When she sat at her desk, he was already at the director's seat. Shinichiro Mizuuchi. Was he coming in earlier than usual, or had he never gone home last night? Riko couldn't tell. Did he notice her presence? His expression showed no change. Riko quietly took her seat. She turned on her computer. She checked the documents she'd revised last night. A morning ritual. Daily routine. 9 AM. Employees trickled in. Aya Yano, a senior colleague, approached with coffee in hand. Thirty-one, a sales rep. A woman sensitive to office gossip, knowledgeable about colleagues' love lives. "Riko, what time did you leave yesterday?" "Around 11:30 PM," "Late. Was the director still here?" "Yes. At his desk in back." Yano chuckled. There was something knowing in that smile. "Figured. Lately, the director's been watching you a lot." Riko's face flushed instantly. "N-no, that's not it," "Come on. Definitely. This morning too, when you sat down, he glanced over." "You're imagining things," Yano shrugged and returned to her seat. Riko's heart was racing again. No. This was a misunderstanding. Director Mizuuchi wasn't looking at her—he was checking the work. That's all. She told herself that. But after a while, Riko glanced quietly toward the director. He was still expressionless, scanning documents. Yet his profile was sharp, cold, and somehow beautiful because of it. She twisted her left hand's fingers tight. Her habit. 10 AM. The director called her. The internal line rang, and Riko's heart froze again. "Ayase. Come to my office." Mizuuchi's voice. Riko headed to his office, holding her breath. She felt her colleagues' stares. He was going to say something. Point out another mistake. That's what Riko braced for. She knocked and entered. The director's office was surprisingly small. About forty square feet. Mizuuchi's desk, bookshelves behind it, a small sofa for meetings. The Akasaka street view from the window. Mizuuchi sat with the window at his back. "I wanted to check the materials before submission," "Right. Review it before you submit," He pulled a thick file from his desk. A proposal for the client. The one Riko had just finished last night. As he handed her the file. Riko's hand trembled without thinking. She dropped it. Papers scattered across the floor. "Oh. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Riko quickly knelt down. Then she noticed Mizuuchi was kneeling too. He silently gathered the papers. His hands were large, long-fingered, refined. A businessman's beautiful hands. The line of his arm visible from his suit sleeve caught Riko's eye. The two of them collected documents on the narrow office floor. Then. As they both reached for the last sheet, their hands touched simultaneously. His hand's warmth transferred to her. Riko reflexively looked up. Mizuuchi's face was inches away. Twenty centimeters. Maybe closer. Their eyes met. His sharp gaze fixed on her. *Thump.* Riko's heart leaped violently. She couldn't breathe. Her vision narrowed to only his face. How long did that moment last? Riko couldn't tell. Mizuuchi slowly picked up the document. "Be careful," His voice was low. But it carried a nuance different from his usual coldness. "Y-yes," Riko stood up. Mizuuchi stood too and handed her the organized papers. Their hands touched again. "Hold it properly," "Thank you," Riko left his office, clutching the documents to her chest. The moment the door closed, she exhaled deeply. Her heart still pounded fiercely. Back at her desk, Riko sat and placed the documents on the surface. Both hands trembled slightly. *(What was that?)* She found herself staring at her right hand. The hand his had touched. It felt like his warmth lingered on her fingertips. Yano approached again. "So?" "Huh?" "What did the director say?" "Oh. He wanted to check the materials," Yano grinned. That smile held something knowing. "I see. Well, do your best. You'll be fine, Riko," Yano left those words behind and walked away. They echoed the anonymous message from last night. *"You'll be fine, I'm sure of it."* 3 PM. The client proposal was finished. Final checks complete. Tomorrow's presentation was ready. She headed to the break room. To make coffee. A small break room. About four tatami mats. Microwave, refrigerator, coffee maker. A small two-person table against the wall. She opened the door. Mizuuchi was already there. He was making coffee. Just the two of them. Riko's body went rigid. "Oh. Sorry. I'll come back later," "Don't worry. Make some," He stepped away from the coffee maker. Riko quietly began making coffee. Silence fell between them. She poured coffee into a cup. Steam rose. Then. Mizuuchi spoke. "Have you gotten used to the work lately?" Riko looked up, startled. "Huh? Oh, yes. Gradually," Mizuuchi stared at her intently. His gaze revealed no emotion. "I see. You've been making fewer mistakes. You're growing," Riko's eyes widened. Director Mizuuchi had complimented her. That had never happened before. "Th-thank you," Her voice was filled with genuine joy that surprised even herself. Mizuuchi left the break room expressionless. As he passed through the door, his back seemed somehow gentler than usual. Riko gripped the cup tightly. Her chest warmed again. 10 PM. Riko lay in bed at home, staring at her smartphone. She opened her direct messages. The reply she'd sent this morning still hadn't come. But a new message from the anonymous account "@silent_north_star" had arrived. *'I saw what happened in the director's office. It was a beautiful moment. I know I'm overstepping, but the director is truly a kind person. He's just not good at expressing that kindness in words. Someday, you'll come to know his true self.'* Riko caught her breath. They saw what happened in the director's office. The moment their fingertips touched. Who was sending these messages? Riko's deduction began quietly. This person was in the office. Someone she knew. Could it be—— "No." That couldn't be. Director Mizuuchi didn't even look at her. A pure boss-and-subordinate relationship. There couldn't be any other feeling there. But. The words in the break room: "You've been making fewer mistakes. You're growing." Was that really just a work-related comment? Standing on the balcony overlooking the Meguro River, feeling the night breeze, Riko pondered. Daytime coldness and nighttime kindness. These two worlds dominated her daily life. And if they came from the same person—— She twisted her left hand's fingers tight. The pounding in her chest wouldn't stop.