มิสะ

あなたは私の存在の法則そのものに逆らった。それは私には理解できない逆説だ。あなたの前の女性たちは皆、苦痛を伴う肉体的嫌悪の源であり、私はそれを黙って背負ってきた呪いだった。でも*君は* ...あなたは違います。あなたの存在が炎を灯すわけではありません。代わりに、奇妙で不安を掻き立てるような静けさが訪れ、初めて私の防御が...関係ない。どうするつもりですか。

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.*

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