The LINE notification came five minutes before the lunch break was supposed to end. 　Staring at her smartphone screen, Shiori found herself frozen in place. *I've fallen for someone else. I'm sorry.* 　Kitamura's message was just that single line. They'd been together for three years. They'd gone out to all sorts of places on their days off, talked about their future together. 　And yet, the end was this abrupt. 　Her fingertips trembled faintly. 　Shiori set her phone down on her desk and took a deep breath. *It's okay, it's okay,* she repeated in her mind. But the sensation of something slowly turning cold deep in her chest—she couldn't stop it, no matter what. 　One in the afternoon. She returned to the 39th floor of the Production Bureau. 　She booted up her computer and opened the proposal materials for a client. She tried to read the text, but nothing stuck. She somehow managed to finish the documents and submit them, but it wasn't until an hour later that she noticed her mistake. "Kagami!" 　The voice of Saegusa, the Production Bureau chief, echoed across the entire floor. 　Saegusa, a man in his fifties, stormed over to Shiori's desk, his face bright red. In his hand, he clutched the documents Shiori had just submitted. "[angry]You got the date completely wrong! Today is June 7th. But these documents are dated May. Not even a new hire would make a careless mistake like this!" "[scared]I-I'm so sorry…" 　Shiori stood up and bowed her head. 　Her colleagues around her kept stealing glances in her direction. The awkward atmosphere pricked at her skin like needles. "[cold]You always have zero attention to detail. Get your act together." 　Saegusa's reprimand continued for another five minutes. 　Ever since M's Creative had been acquired by the Saionji Group, the atmosphere in the company had been perpetually heavy. An invisible rift ran between the old-guard management faction, people like Saegusa, and the employees dispatched from the group under the new regime. Shiori was always working caught between those two sides. 　And that wasn't all. 　Shiori's father, Kagami Seiichiro, had been an executive at this company three years ago. He'd been dismissed on suspicion of breach of trust, and two months later, he'd died suddenly of a myocardial infarction. The label of "traitor's daughter" still lingered in the office. That was why Shiori had to work more diligently than anyone else. 　And yet. 　The shock of heartbreak had caused her to make a mistake like this. 　After closing hours, the floor had thinned out. 　Shiori was slumped over her desk. Fighting back the tears that threatened to spill, she squeezed her eyes shut. (*Just for tonight, I don't want to be alone.*) 　She lifted her head and gathered her things. 　She had no particular destination in mind, but she couldn't bring herself to go home. ── 　A multi-tenant building in Roppongi 5-chome. 　Amidst a row of weathered signs, there was one small plaque. *Larme*. Seeing the word—French for "teardrop"—Shiori pushed the door open as if drawn in. 　It was a dimly lit space with only eight counter seats. 　Jazz played softly. The faint scent of wood drifted from the hinoki cypress counter. The master, Kuga, was a taciturn man of fifty-eight. She would later learn he was a former advertising man. "[gentle]What will you have?" "[sad]Whiskey… anything is fine." 　Kuga nodded quietly and poured an amber liquid into a glass. 　Shiori took a sip. Her throat grew warm, and some of the tension drained from her. 　It was when her first glass was about half empty. 　A tall man settled onto the seat beside her. He did so wordlessly, with a natural ease, as if he'd been there all along. Shiori stole a glance at his profile. 　He must have been around 185 centimeters. A lean, straight-backed posture. He wore an expensive-looking black suit with effortless grace. A profile like a sculpture. His cold gaze was fixed somewhere far away. "[serious]The usual." 　At the man's words, Kuga nodded silently. She could tell he was a regular. 　Silence stretched between the two of them for a while. 　Shiori tilted her glass. The man stared straight ahead. 　Her glass emptied. 　At that moment, the man spoke. "[gentle]Another for her as well." "[surprised]Oh… thank you." 　When Shiori turned to him in surprise, the man said curtly: "[serious]You're sitting here drinking alone, looking like you're about to cry. I couldn't just leave you be." 　His directness caught Shiori off guard. "[surprised]D-Did I really look like that?" 　When she reflexively responded, she thought she saw the man's lips soften just a little. 　That was their first conversation. "[serious]Your name?" "[gentle]…That's a secret. Just for tonight, I thought I wouldn't give my name." "[serious]I see. That's fine." 　The man said that, a faint smile crossing his lips. 　Without revealing their names or where they worked, the two began to talk. 　The pain of heartbreak. The exhaustion of work. The fear of trusting someone. They spoke of it all in abstract terms, as if scraping away at each other's loneliness. "[sad]There are times when I'm afraid to trust people." "[gentle]…Me too." 　Shiori nodded, tilting her glass. 　By the time she finished her third drink, they were the only ones left in the bar. ── "[serious]Shall we talk a little more, somewhere else?" 　The man stood and extended his hand. 　Rationally, she knew she should refuse. He was a stranger. They'd only just met. But the damage of her heartbreak had melted her judgment into a sticky mess. 　Shiori took his hand. 　The taxi headed for a quiet residential area in Nishi-Azabu. 　A building came into view, hidden behind a hedge. There wasn't even a sign. And yet, the man entered without hesitation. Van Vert Tokyo—a fully membership-based, ultra-luxury hotel. As a butler silently began guiding them to the top floor, Shiori intuitively understood the meaning of this place. 　The Presidential Suite, "Gekka." 　A spacious fifty-five square meter room. Beyond the large window, Tokyo Tower glowed red. 　The moment the door closed, the man's hand lifted Shiori's chin. 　A deep kiss descended upon her. 　Through the bathroom's glass partition, the night view shimmered and blurred. "[whispers]Tell me if you don't want this." 　At his low voice, Shiori shook her head. 　The man's lips slowly traced a path from her neck to her collarbone. One by one, the buttons of her blouse were undone. From beneath her shirt, her pale skin met the night air. 　The man's tongue carefully moistened the tip of her breast. 　A sensation somewhere between ticklish and hot made Shiori's back tremble. 　Her wrists were gently gathered above her head, and she was lowered onto the bed. "Ah…" 　A small sound escaped her. 　The man's fingers slipped beneath Shiori's skirt, tracing her inner thigh. Slowly parting her legs, his fingers touched her core. It was already thoroughly wet. "[whispers]Let me hear your voice." 　The man's fingers slowly entered her. 　At the foreign sensation, Shiori held her breath. But at the same time, a desire to be touched more welled up from deep in her stomach. 　The man took his time, as if teasing her, getting her used to him. 　After confirming she was sufficiently relaxed, he lowered his slacks. His erect penis stood out, illuminated by the light of Tokyo Tower. 　The man lifted Shiori's hips and slowly leaned his weight into her. 　The tip of his penis was pressed against her wet entrance. "Ah… aaah…" 　It sank into her, all the way to the depths. 　At the sensation of being filled, Shiori's consciousness went white. "[whispers]So deep…" "[serious]Don't run from it." 　The man whispered low and began to move his hips. 　Each time his penis rubbed inside her, a sweet numbness spread through her entire body. The man's hands gripped Shiori's waist, thrusting up into her deeper, harder. 　Her first climax came quickly. 　Her hips trembled uncontrollably, and a voiceless sound leaked from her throat. And yet, the man didn't stop. 　He changed positions, facing her directly. 　Gazing into each other's eyes, they connected again. The man's fingers found her wet clitoris and began to gently rub it. "No… ah, there, stop…!" 　A second climax swallowed Shiori, far deeper than the first. "[whispers]More… please." 　Her own mouth had said such a thing. 　The man's movements stopped for an instant, and something flickered in his eyes. 　Loneliness. 　It was a deep shadow, as if it had seeped out just a little through a gap in his armor. 　But she had no room to think about that. 　A third wave shook her entire body, and Shiori couldn't think about anything anymore. ── 　She awoke near dawn. 　The man was no longer beside her. 　On the bedside table, only a single memo had been left. 　*Don't tell anyone about last night.* 　There was no signature. ── 　Monday morning. 　As she passed through the entrance of Roppongi Hills Mori Tower, Shiori told herself: *That was a moment of weakness, a one-night mistake. From now on, I'll work as usual, live as usual.* 　However. 　Five minutes before nine, an urgent notification flashed across the internal company system. *All employees, assemble on the Sales Bureau floor by 8:45. Inaugural address from the new president.* 　A large crowd of employees had already gathered on the 38th floor. The buzz of conversation echoed all the way to the ceiling. Shiori, too, was swept along by the wave of people and stood at the edge of the line. 　A tall man in a suit stepped up onto the platform. 　In that instant, Shiori's vision froze. 　A towering height of 185 centimeters. A sculpted profile. Cold eyes. 　It was that man. 　The secretary, Toudou, announced into the microphone: "[serious]This is Saionji Reima, Representative Director of the Saionji Group and the new President of M's Creative." 　Inside her head, the memories of Friday night came rushing back all at once. 　*Let me hear your voice. Don't run from it.* Those whispers now overlapped with the voice of the man resonating before all the employees at this very moment. "[serious]I will not tolerate any blurring of public and private life. Personal favoritism will also be eliminated. I will restore this company to the way it should be." 　Reima's voice was cold and carried weight. 　During his declaration, he surveyed the entire floor. Eventually, his gaze stopped for just a moment in front of Shiori's row. 　But it immediately slid away to the next, as if she didn't exist. 　A sharp pain pricked her chest. "[whispers]Isn't the new president super scary? His eyes aren't smiling at all." 　Tsujimura Ai, standing next to her, whispered quietly. 　Ai was Shiori's colleague from the same year, a petite creator with a bob cut of vivid red hair. She was always cheerful, with a friendly, endearing smile. "[nervous]Y-Yeah…" 　Shiori barely managed to squeeze that out. ── 　The morning assembly ended, and she returned to her desk. 　Staring at her computer screen, Shiori was simply stunned. 　Saionji Reima. 　A quick search brought him up immediately. The man who had earned an MBA from Harvard at the youngest age and inherited the group at twenty-five. His father had died suddenly, and he'd fought through the factional infighting within the group to reach his current position. 　This Reima was also the one who had acquired M's Creative. 　That Reima. 　On Friday night, he'd drunk with her without giving his name. 　At an ultra-luxury hotel, all night long, he'd held her. 　The facts just wouldn't click together properly. 　Evening came, and she wrapped up her work. 　She boarded the train home and got off at Ebisu Station. Passing through the ticket gate, she looked at her phone. 　It was vibrating. 　A text message had arrived from an unknown number. *Come to Van Vert tonight at 9 PM. You have no right to refuse.* 　There was no sender's name. 　But she knew. She didn't want to know, but she knew. 　Her feet stopped. 　*I shouldn't go.