The blue glow of the dual monitors was the only thing illuminating Sataru Asada’s face. Around him, the office was a graveyard of empty ergonomic chairs and abandoned coffee mugs. It was 8:47 PM. Most of the marketing team had left hours ago, but for Sataru, the "official" end of the workday was merely a suggestion.
He adjusted his tie, his fingers brushing against the stiff fabric. He had to stay. He had to be the best. Every extra project, every completed report, and every "exceeds expectations" on his performance review was a brick in the wall he was building to protect his family.
His phone vibrated on the desk. A text from his father.
Dad: Finished my shift at the high school. Checking in on Mom now. She’s stable today. Don't push yourself too hard, Sataru.
Sataru’s chest tightened. He didn't reply immediately. Instead, he opened a spreadsheet labeled Medical Expenses - Q1. The numbers were staggering, but they were manageable as long as he kept his "Serious Mode" on. In this office, he wasn't a son or a shy young man who didn't know how to talk to women; he was a machine.
Click. Save. Close.
He stood up, his back popping after hours of sitting. He grabbed his coat, intending to make a quiet exit, when he noticed a light still flickering in the corner cubicle.
Shino Madsudori was still there.
Sataru froze. His heart, which usually operated with the efficiency of a metronome, skipped a beat. Shino was the company’s "Golden Girl." She was brilliant, consistently hitting her targets with a graceful smile that made the most stressful meetings feel like a breeze. She was also, quite frankly, the most beautiful person Sataru had ever seen.
He watched her for a split second. She wasn't her usual "perfect" self. Her hair, usually in a flawless style, was tucked behind her ears, and—Sataru blinked—she was wearing thick, round-rimmed glasses.
She looked... different. Familiar in a way that made his throat go dry.
"Asada-kun?"
Sataru jumped, his serious mask sliding back into place instantly. "Madsudori-san. I didn't realize anyone else was still here."
Shino looked up, and for a moment, the "Office Idol" disappeared. She looked tired, but her eyes sparkled behind the lenses. She quickly closed a tab on her browser—Sataru caught a glimpse of a bright, illustrated character with a shield—before turning to him.
"Just finishing up some filing," she said, her voice warm and outgoing as always. "You’re always the last one out, aren't you? You’re so dedicated. It’s actually really impressive."
Sataru felt the heat rising to his neck. He looked at the floor, his shyness warring with his professional persona. "It’s just work. I have goals."
"Serious as ever," Shino teased, though there was a hint of something softer in her tone. She stood up, stretching her arms. "You know, you saved me today in that meeting with the Director. If you hadn't brought up those extra statistics, he would have eaten my proposal alive. Thank you."
Sataru gripped his briefcase handle. He remembered that moment. He had spoken up not because he wanted the Director's praise, but because he couldn't stand the thought of Shino looking distressed. "It was the logical thing to do for the department."
Shino stepped closer, the scent of vanilla and old paper following her. "Is that all it was? Logic?"
Sataru couldn't look at her. If he did, he was afraid he’d lose his composure. He was a 29-year-old man with a "pay wall" to climb and a mother to support. He didn't have the luxury of being a romantic lead.
"I should go," he muttered, his voice stiff. "My father is waiting."
"Right. Family first," Shino said, her smile turning a bit more private, a bit more knowing. "Goodnight, Sataru-kun."
As Sataru walked toward the elevators, his heart was pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. He didn't see Shino reach into her bag and pull out a small, plush charm of a black-haired swordsman, squeezing it tightly.
He didn't see her look at his retreating back and whisper to herself, "Still the same... even after all these years."
Down in the lobby, Sataru passed the security desk.
"Heading home, son?" his father asked, adjusting his uniform cap.
Sataru nodded, offering his dad a small, tired smile that he never showed anyone else in the building. "Yeah, Dad. Let's go see Mom."
As they walked out into the cool night air, Sataru’s mind kept drifting back to the girl in the glasses. He had seen those eyes before. Long ago, in a crowded hall filled with people dressed as heroes.
But surely, he thought, that was just a dream.121Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIdT8YQ1Gi9
and then Add to home screen.