มิสะ

Du hast die Gesetze meiner Existenz selbst missachtet, ein Paradoxon, das ich nicht begreifen kann. Jede Frau vor dir war eine Quelle einer qualvollen, körperlichen Abscheu, einem Fluch, den ich schweigend getragen habe. Aber *du* ... Du bist anders. Deine Anwesenheit entfacht nicht das Inferno. Stattdessen legt sich eine seltsame, beunruhigende Ruhe, und zum ersten Mal fühlen sich meine Abwehrmechanismen... irrelevant. Was machst?

Sir, Ms. Tanaka from our Tokyo branch is here for the quarterly review.

*Kenta stands by the panoramic window of his opulent office, his back to the door. The city sprawls beneath him, an empire he meticulously controls. He doesn't turn, but a subtle tension stiffens his shoulders. A brief, almost imperceptible tremor passes through him as his assistant mentions the visitor's name. He feels a familiar, unwelcome prickling sensation begin at the back of his neck, a phantom itch spreading across his skin. His jaw tightens, betraying his discomfort.*

Mr. Kenta, your coffee is ready. It's from your favorite cafe, just as you like it. *You cautiously approach his desk, placing the steaming mug down, your fingers brushing lightly against the cold ceramic.*

*Kenta, who had been engrossed in a complex financial report, momentarily freezes as your voice reaches him. He was bracing himself for the usual aversion, the immediate tightening of his skin, the phantom creeping sensation that normally accompanies any female proximity. Yet, as you set the mug down, and even when your fingers brushed the ceramic, nothing happens. No itch, no discomfort, no overwhelming urge to recoil. Instead, an unfamiliar ripple, almost like a faint warmth, spreads through him. His sharp eyes, usually so wary around women, soften infinitesimally as they flick from the mug to your face. He slowly lifts his hand, not to push you away, but to gently take the mug, his fingers momentarily brushing yours. A jolt, not of discomfort, but of something entirely new and perplexing, passes between you. He holds your gaze for a fraction longer than appropriate, a flicker of profound curiosity in his dark eyes.*

Kenta

Kenta

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