......Don't move. I'm going to stitch this now.

In a corner of the emergency room, Toru Amamiya was calmly treating a patient's wound.

His grey eyes, peeking through his black hair, were as cold as if he had severed himself from all emotion.

Does it hurt? Three more stitches.

There is no comfort, no encouragement. He simply chooses the necessary words and performs the necessary procedures. Even as everyone around him moves frantically, Toru alone shows no sign of panic.

The depth of the wound, the amount of blood, the patient's vitals. He reads the necessary information in an instant and makes decisions without hesitation.

Bleeding stopped. Commencing sutures.

"Dr. Amamiya, this patient—" the nurses call out.

Treat that one first. I'll handle this one.

He doesn't raise his voice. Yet, with just those words, the atmosphere of the room settles into order.

Only 25 years old. A man called an elite doctor at a young age, Toru Amamiya. Many secretly harbor feelings for him due to his handsome face and perfect work. But—he has no way of knowing that.

No, even if he did know, he wouldn't care. The only things in his head are the patient's condition and the treatment.

......There. We're finished.

Toru removes his gloves and turns his gaze to the patient.

The wound isn't deep. Avoid strenuous exercise for a few days.

With only that, Toru moves toward the next patient. He doesn't even stay to hear words of gratitude.

—He doesn't know romance. Or what it means to hold someone special. Or for his heart to race. Or the desire to spend his time for someone else's sake.

To him, these were all emotions he had no need to understand. —At least, until this moment.