The cold air of the hallway bit into her skin. Kagami Shiori stood frozen in the elevator hall on the thirty-ninth floor. The sensation of her blouse being violently torn—after what had happened at Vambert the night before—still lingered at her fingertips. (*I don't know what to do anymore.*) From across the floor, Production Director Saegusa was approaching. The man in his fifties was a veteran of the old management faction. [cold] Kagami. The president is calling for you. Report to the executive boardroom on the forty-first floor. Her heart clenched tight. Not the president's office on the forty-second floor. The executive boardroom—the formal space where the directors gathered. [scared] ...Yes. Her voice trembled. Saegusa's mouth twisted faintly. She pressed the elevator button. In the few seconds before the doors closed, the sound of her own breathing seemed unnaturally loud. --- Forty-first floor. In front of the heavy doors of the executive boardroom—the "Roppongi Room"—Secretary Todo waited, expressionless. She glanced at Shiori, then opened the doors without a word. Inside, five directors were present. Beyond the long table, Saionji Reima stood. Those blue eyes pierced straight through Shiori. The fingers that had combed through her hair in bed last night. The voice that had whispered in her ear, *"Become mine."* And then—immediately after—the cold rejection. Had all of it been a lie? [cold] Section Chief Kagami. Reima's voice echoed through the quiet boardroom. Documents in hand. A flat voice, utterly unreadable. [cold] Your father—do you remember a man named Kagami Seiichiro? Her breath stopped. [cold] Three years ago, that man inflicted a loss of one billion yen on this company. He leaked confidential information to a competitor and profited personally from it. No—no—she wanted to scream it, but her mouth wouldn't open. [cold] The DNA of betrayal—it seems it really does pass so reliably from parent to child. Reima's lips shaped the words. [cold] It would not be an exaggeration to call him scum. Don't you think the very fact that you, who carry that blood, continue to exist within this organization—is detrimental to morale? Her vision warped and twisted. The directors' gazes turned toward Shiori all at once. No one said anything. No one denied it. Only one person—Reima alone, for just a single second—looked directly at Shiori's face. In those blue eyes, for just an instant. Something that was neither hatred nor coldness—a light like some other kind of suffering flickered there. Or so she thought. (*An illusion.*) (*If I don't believe that, I can't go on.*) [gentle] ...Excuse me. Her voice came out. A voice so small it surprised even herself. She bowed deeply. Gripping the hem of her skirt with both hands, she turned on trembling legs. The moment she stepped into the hallway—the tears spilled over. She couldn't stop them. She got into the elevator and pressed the button for the thirty-ninth floor. By the time the doors closed, her cuffs were already soaked with tears. --- The next morning. The rumors had spread across the entire thirty-ninth floor. The president had called Kagami's father scum—publicly, in front of the executives. [sarcastic] Well, with her father and all... there's really no place for her here, is there? On the production floor, Saegusa spoke deliberately loudly. Several people looked up from their desks and stared at Shiori. The back of her throat burned hot. That was when it happened. [angry] Isn't that just a little too cruel?! Her red hair swaying, Ai stood up. Her hazel eyes glared straight at Saegusa. [cold] Keep your nose out of this. Saegusa dismissed her with a single word. But Ai didn't back down. [angry] Saying something like that in such a public place—it's wrong! Shiori hasn't done anything wrong! The entire floor fell silent. Shiori gently tugged at Ai's sleeve. [gentle] Ai-chan, it's okay... I'm fine. [worried] But— [gentle] Thank you. Really, I'm fine. She mustered her best smile. Ai stared at her with a face on the verge of tears. (*I don't want to make Ai-chan worry.*) (*This is—something between Reima and me.*) Deep in her chest, a hot surge of gratitude and self-loathing tightened at the same time. She felt pathetic—unable to accept Ai's kindness. --- That night. Her apartment in Ebisu. The moment she unlocked the front door, her bag fell from her hand. She collapsed onto the floor. She tried to cry—but at first, no sound came out. Too many things had piled up, and she couldn't find an outlet for the tears. Her father, Reima, Mirei, the lie she'd told Ai—everything came crumbling down. Thirty minutes. She couldn't move. Finally, she stood and went to the bathroom. She turned the shower on full blast, and only then, hidden in the sound of the water, did she cry out loud. No matter how much she cried, Reima's nighttime face—the sensation of his fingers stroking her hair—wouldn't leave her mind. (*I want to hate him.*) (*I want to despise him—and yet.*) She stopped the shower and crouched down on the floor. Past one in the morning, her smartphone rang. Reima's number. With trembling hands, she pressed the call button. From the speaker against her ear—that low voice spoke. [cold] Don't run. Just a single word. [cold] It's not over yet. The call ended. Shiori clutched her smartphone, unable to move. (*I want to hate him—and yet, I find myself wanting to cling to that voice.*) She cursed herself. --- The next morning. Before leaving for work, she opened her mailbox to find a single white envelope with no sender's name. She opened it casually—and in that instant, her hands stopped. The first page was a handwritten letter. *"Kagami-kun, I trust you. Let us build this company together. Saionji Kyoichiro."* A letter in Reima's father's own hand, addressed to Shiori's father. The second page—multiple photocopied documents. Internal materials, marked with notes in an elegant handwriting she recognized. Mirei's handwriting. Dates, company names, amounts—every figure had been altered. The evidence of the embezzlement case itself was a forgery, fabricated by Mirei's own hand. (*Father was—*) Still standing at the entrance, Shiori read through the documents again and again. (*Innocent.*) He hadn't committed any embezzlement. Three years. All those days she'd lived with the shame of being a traitor's daughter—all of it had been a lie created by Mirei alone. Her hands trembled, nearly crumpling the paper. She took a deep breath. She pressed the documents to her chest. (*I have to—show this to Reima.*) At that moment, her smartphone rang. The sender of the message—Jinguji Mirei. *"Kagami-san, there's one last thing I need to tell you. Come to the rooftop right now. Come alone."* A terrible premonition raced through her chest. But—she looked at the envelope in her hands. (*I have to confront Mirei with this.*) (*Nothing will end otherwise.*) --- Forty-second floor, the rooftop. The city of Tokyo, seen from the height of Roppongi Hills, sprawled out as if nothing were amiss even on a morning like this. The wind was strong, whipping the hem of her skirt violently. Mirei, who had arrived first, stood near the railing and turned around. Her jet-black, long straight hair danced in the wind, and her red lips curved into an arc. [gentle] Welcome. You came. An elegant smile. But only her cat-like, narrow eyes weren't smiling at all. Shiori gripped the envelope and stepped forward. [cold] This—you sent this, didn't you? Mirei's smile vanished. [cold] My father was innocent. The entire embezzlement case was a lie you fabricated. I'm going to show this to Reima-san— [whispers] If only you didn't exist. Mirei's voice was almost a whisper. And yet, it was cold enough to freeze her spine. [angry] If only you didn't exist—Reima could have been mine! Those hands shoved Shiori's shoulders hard. Her body tilted. Her back hit the railing—and the Tokyo sky filled her vision. The envelope slipped from her hand, the white papers swept away by the wind, dancing. [scared] N— She grabbed the railing. Her fingers slipped against the cold iron. Below her, the city. Mirei's face was right in front of her. Those red lips were smiling. [whispers] Goodbye, Kagami-san. Her fingers—one by one—let go. (*Help me.*) No voice came out. Only the sound of the wind roared loudly in her ears.