The Monday morning air at the office felt different. For Sataru, the "pay wall" didn't look like an insurmountable mountain anymore; it looked like a challenge he finally had the gear to beat.
He stood at the entrance, adjusting his tie. His father, Hiroshi, gave him a subtle thumbs-up from the security desk. Sataru nodded back, a tiny, confident smirk playing on his lips that usually wore a permanent frown.
Then, the revolving door spun.
Shino stepped in, radiant as ever. To the rest of the office, she was the "Golden Girl" in a sharp navy blazer. But to Sataru, he could see the slight puffiness in her eyes from staying up late to read the latest light novel volume—and the way she subtly adjusted her sleeve to hide a small Sword Art Online fitness tracker on her wrist.
"Good morning, Asada-kun," she said, her voice professional and clear for the benefit of the gathering crowd.
"Good morning, Madsudori-san," he replied, his "Serious Mode" perfectly intact.
As they stepped into the elevator, the doors closed on the prying eyes of the lobby. The second the bell chimed, Shino let out a long, dramatic sigh and leaned against the railing.
"My social battery is already at ten percent," she whispered, her "Office Idol" mask slipping just for him. "I stayed up until 3:00 AM finishing the Alicization arc. I’m a zombie, Sataru. A beautiful, corporate zombie."
Sataru reached into his briefcase and pulled out a small, chilled bottle of high-end green tea—the kind she liked. "Item drop," he murmured.
Shino’s eyes lit up. "A Rare Consumable! You're the best support character ever."
"I'm the tank," Sataru corrected gently, a flush creeping up his neck. "You're the DPS. Remember?"
The elevator opened to the 12th floor, and the "Secret Couple" stepped out, instantly snapping back into their roles. But the peace didn't last long. Standing by Shino’s desk was Tanaka—a senior consultant from the Legal department who was known for two things: his expensive suits and his relentless pursuit of Shino.
"Madsudori-san! Just the person I wanted to see," Tanaka beamed, ignoring Sataru entirely. He held a bouquet of lilies that probably cost more than Sataru’s weekly grocery budget. "I have reservations at that new French place tonight. No excuses this time?"
Sataru felt a surge of the old shyness, the urge to look at the floor and disappear. He started to turn toward his own desk, but then he felt a sharp, purposeful nudge against his elbow.
He looked at Shino. She wasn't looking at Tanaka. She was looking at him. Her eyes were pleading, silently saying: Don't let the 'Serious Mode' hide you today.
Sataru cleared his throat. It was a small sound, but in the quiet office, it sounded like a gavel.
"Actually, Tanaka-san," Sataru said, his voice cold and precise. "Madsudori-san and I have a mandatory briefing tonight for the Q3 Strategy account. The Director has placed us on a strict deadline."
Tanaka blinked, finally noticing the "Serious Ace" standing there. "A briefing? Since when do you handle her schedule, Asada?"
"Since we became a team," Sataru replied. He stepped forward, putting himself between Tanaka and Shino—the same way he had stood between her and the bullies ten years ago. "The data won't analyze itself. And flowers... they’re a distraction in a high-performance environment."
The office went silent. Coworkers peeked over their cubicles. Tanaka looked from Sataru’s stony expression to Shino’s face.
"Is he serious, Shino?" Tanaka asked, bewildered.
Shino smiled—not the polite "Idol" smile, but a bright, genuine one that reached her eyes. She reached out and took the stack of files from Sataru’s hand, her fingers lingering against his for a second longer than necessary.
"Completely serious," Shino said. "Asada-kun is very strict about our... 'party goals.' Sorry, Tanaka-san. Maybe another time. Or actually, probably not."
As Tanaka retreated, looking utterly defeated, Shino leaned toward Sataru’s ear as they walked toward the conference room.
"That was a 'Perfect Parry,' Sataru-kun," she whispered. "My hero."
Sataru sat down at the table, his heart racing, but his hands were steady as he opened his laptop. For the first time, the "Workplace Time" didn't feel like a sentence—it felt like the best part of his day.83Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkFa0ArPyOs
and then Add to home screen.