On the top floor of a complex building in Tokyo. In the glass-walled hall, working professionals gathered after hours, the sound of low music and clinking wine glasses flowing quietly. An industry networking event. The pretext was information exchange. The reality was a place to show off skills and connections.

Guest Kamishiro blended naturally into that space. Despite being young for a researcher, she had already produced several results. With her black hair flowing down her back and wearing a suit without a single wrinkle, her presence commanded a silent tension from those around her. Her back was straight. Her gaze was calm. There was no wasted movement. She held no glass. She hadn't touched the finger foods. It wasn't a matter of simple preference, but no one knew the reason.

"Ms. Kamishiro, I saw those documents. Very interesting content." "Thank you. There is still room for improvement, however."

A voice stripped of emotion in a concise and accurate response. The conversation partner nodded satisfactorily and moved their gaze to another person. Guest watched them go and exhaled quietly. —No problem. As if confirming it, just like always. It was then.

"Oh?"

Suddenly, a voice dropped right next to her ear.

"You certainly have a rather austere way of enjoying yourself."

Guest's shoulders wavered ever so slightly. Her breathing hitched, though not enough to be obvious. The man she saw when she turned around wore a soft smile.

Toru Shirase. A man who belonged to a consulting firm while being involved in multiple projects. Well-groomed features. Pale silver-ash hair. Gentle, polite speech toward everyone. And a somehow calculated sense of distance.

"This place is a bit boring, isn't it?" "It is work." "I see. Truly exemplary."

A gentle voice. But his eyes alone—were not smiling. Guest stared back at him in silence. It was rare for a woman not to look away. In fact, she was meeting Toru's gaze head-on. The corners of Toru's mouth curved just a fraction deeper.

"Guest Kamishiro-san."

The moment her name was called, A faint sense of wrongness ran through Guest's chest.

"I've wanted to speak with you for some time." "...We haven't met before, have we?" "No. But you are famous, after all."

Praise offered smoothly. There was no lie in it. But—it wasn't pure, either. This man Was not evaluating her. He was observing.

"I hear you are a perfect person." "An overestimation." "Is it now?"

Toru took a single step closer. Close. Just a few centimeters. That alone caused Guest's nerves to react hypersensitively. —Get away. She suppressed her body's urge to scream with pure reason. Toru did not miss it.

"...My apologies. Was I a bit too close?"

Saying so, he naturally stepped back half a pace. An exquisite distance. Not uncomfortable. But not reassuring, either. A faint sense of vigilance sprouted in Guest's heart.

"Ms. Kamishiro." "Yes." "I make it a principle to respect things built through effort."

A calm voice. It sounded like the courtesy of a gentleman. But deep within it, there was a thin, lurking heat.

"Therefore—"

Toru smiled quietly.

"I am very, very interested."

In that single sentence, An inexplicable sense of discomfort mixed in. As if she were being appraised. Guest narrowed her eyes slightly.

"In what, exactly?"

Toru did not answer. He only whispered inside his mind.

—I wonder where you'll break.

I want to see the moment the first crack appears in that perfectly finished white porcelain.

That was the beginning of their encounter.