In the quietest corner of the studio, Nao continued working on the sketches for the chair Reina had strictly assigned to her. On paper, it was a piece of almost painful sculptural beauty, filled with impossible curves that masterfully evoked a body trapped in pure tension. Yet, as Nao’s pencil traced the graphite, she realized the harsh reality: ergonomically, the design was an absolute disaster. No human being could ever sit comfortably in it. It was an object designed to punish the flesh.
Haruka approached the drawing table with silent, measured steps, placing a cup of hot green tea right next to the sketchbook. No sugar. She knew perfectly well that Nao took it that way.
"You're very quiet," Haruka said, her voice calm but carrying an underlying weight.
Nao didn't look up immediately. "Did you ever love someone who couldn't see you?" she whispered, her eyes remaining fixed on the contorted lines of her drawing.
Haruka's posture stiffened slightly. "Sometimes… seeing hurts more than not being seen," she replied, her words barely audible over the distant hum of the office.
Finally, Nao turned her gaze away from the paper, her eyes misting over with unshed tears. When she spoke, her voice was completely broken. "That night in the warehouse... when you held me so I wouldn't fall... I thought someone was finally truly looking at me. But you let me go as soon as it stopped raining."
"I let you go because I'm broken, Nao," Haruka replied, a flash of contained pain breaking through her rigid military discipline. "My hands only know protocol and war. I don't know how to care for something as delicate as you."
As she spoke, Haruka’s eyes instinctively drifted across the room, landing directly on Mika. Her jaw tensed imperceptibly.
Mika, noticing the intense proximity between the two women from her desk, stood up and approached the drawing table, her expression unreadable. "Do you need help with the blueprints, Nao?" she asked, her tone cutting through the space.
Nao stared fixedly at the platinum wedding band glinting coldly on Mika’s ring finger, her own voice turning entirely dry. "No. But you do, Mika. With your marriage. With that contract of ice you have for a home, where you spend your nights alone waiting for a touch you know perfectly well will never come."
The air in the design area froze instantly. The casual background noise of the studio seemed to vanish, replaced by a heavy, suffocating silence.
Haruka stepped forward immediately, subtly but decisively positioning her body in front of Mika to shield her. Her broad shoulders squared instantly, but instead of defensive anger, her face betrayed a deep, painful layer of guilt.
"Nao... please. Don't do this. Not here," Haruka pleaded in a low, strained tone.
Nao looked up at Haruka. The sudden flash of rage vanished from her eyes in a second, instantly replaced by absolute vulnerability. Seeing how instinctively Haruka moved to protect Mika's space broke something deep inside her.
"You always stand in front of her, Haruka..." Nao said, her voice cracking as tears finally threatened to spill. "Even when she isn't being attacked. You let go of me as soon as it stopped raining in that warehouse, but her... you hold her with your gaze every single second of the day. Why aren't you afraid of breaking with her?"
Mika tenses behind Haruka’s shoulder, feeling the staggering weight of the silent accusation. Refusing to hide or look weak, she deliberately stepped to the side to face Nao directly.
"At least I don't hide behind a drawing to remember what it's like to desire someone, Nao-san," Mika shot back, trying desperately to salvage her wounded pride.
Nao stood up abruptly, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. Her eyes glistened in the cold office light. "You don't know what it's like to lose the work you loved," she said, her voice shaking with pure hurt. "Now I design chairs. Before, it was my own body that told stories. I don't want to fight with you, Mika. I just… I don't know when it's going to stop hurting."
Without giving either of them a chance to reply, Nao turned on her heel and left the area quickly, walking as if physical speed could somehow leave the emotional pain behind.
A faint, crystal clink of glass suddenly broke the lingering tension. Across the floor, at the International Relations desk, Rika watched the entire aftermath unfold with a cynical amusement. She casually poured red wine into a crystal glass. It was exactly 10:17 in the morning. It was her daily ritual. She set the bottle down right next to an aging, faded black-and-white postcard from an independent art gallery in Le Marais, Paris—the only object that served as her visual anchor and a silent reminder of why she chose to endure Tokyo.
Sayaka, who happened to be passing through the central hallway with a stack of audits, stopped dead in her tracks. She locked a gaze of absolute, unadulterated contempt on the wine glass before glaring directly into Rika's face.
"The internal regulations explicitly prohibit the consumption of alcohol before six in the evening, Rika-san," Sayaka announced, her voice booming with corporate authority.
Rika held the glass with effortless elegance, a sharp, cynical smile spreading across her lips. "I know, Sayaka. But at ten-thirty, I have a videoconference with the investors in Paris. They only understand the language of art and euphoria. If you have any complaints about my methods, you can discuss them directly in Tomoe's office... Oh, that's right. The CEO doesn't take complaints from Human Resources on Tuesdays."
Sayaka gnashes her teeth, her knuckles turning white as she contained the raw rage of the public humiliation. Defeated entirely by the corporate hierarchy, she adjusted her files and continued walking with a stiff, rigid stride. Rika watched her go, smiling softly to herself.
"Another day, someone else's fire," Rika murmured in an undertone.
Her gaze soon crossed with Yui's, who was just returning from the executive suite carrying a fresh set of folders. Rika gestured for her to come closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Did you know Reina used to smoke in the bathrooms five years ago?" Rika asked, her eyes narrowing mischievously. "Aki found her one night. They never told me what actually happened there… but since then, everything changed. The newspapers said Reina ruined her career by getting into bed with an old business tycoon to secure contracts. A perfect corporate lie. Nobody bothered to look at who was really in that Kyoto hotel room. The tycoon was downstairs, dead drunk... and the one in bed with Reina was his wife, our dear Tomoe. That's why the CEO brought her here after the scandal. To hide her in plain sight."
Yui stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, her fingers tightening around the edges of the folders she held against her chest. "Don't start, Rika. Not today," she said, keeping her voice tense and low as she tried to force her flat corporate composure back into place. "Sometimes you don't need to speak for everything to blow up. Silence builds up far more pressure."
Rika merely smiled, swirling the dark liquid in her crystal glass with effortless malice. "Today is precisely when you need to hear it, Yui. You know it well. With that geisha look of yours… so cold on the outside, so damp on the inside."
Yui didn't offer a single word in response. However, a telling, violent red flush immediately bled up her neck and tinted her cheeks. Rika’s smile widened; she knew exactly which nerve she had just exposed.
Later that afternoon, the heavy silence shifted to the sterile atmosphere of the employees' restroom. Emi rested both hands against the cold porcelain of the sink, exhaling a long breath she felt she had been holding in for hours. She had spent the entire day operating under Aki's shadow, still feeling the phantom warmth of the designer's breath on her neck and the lingering ghost of that thumb pressing against her lower lip. Her skin broke out in goosebumps at the mere memory of it.
Desperately seeking to claw back her self-control and erase the dangerous vulnerability Aki had drawn out of her at the drawing table, Emi opened her handbag. She pulled out her usual tube of bright red lipstick—the innocent, commercial shade she always used to wear in her old vlogs. She began applying it meticulously, her strokes quick and frantic, as if she could bury her awakening desire beneath a thick layer of her old, safe identity.
The heavy restroom door opened with a soft click. Through the mirror, Emi's eyes locked onto Aki.
"Nice color," Aki said, stepping into the room with her usual feline grace. "But it's not the one you need."
Before Emi could even move, Aki approached from behind, wrested the lipstick cleanly from her trembling hands, and broke the wax cylinder in two with a sharp, brutal snap. The broken piece of carmine tumbled to the floor, leaving a thick, dark red smudge—looking exactly like a fresh streak of blood—against the white marble of the sink.
"Bright red is for queens who already have a throne," Aki continued, her voice dropping to a low purr as she pulled a different tube from her own designer bag. "You… you are uncontrolled fire. Use the dark carmine. The one that bleeds."
Emi stared at the second lipstick being offered to her, her hands visibly shaking as she reached out to take it. "Why are you doing this to me, Aki?"
"Because you and I both know you no longer have a clean reputation to protect, Tanaka-san," Aki replied, her eyes narrowing with a cruel sort of tenderness. "The internet forums are still full of screenshots of your private photos from back when you decided your own body was the best bait to fish for followers. You already played in that field just to buy influence; you’ve already touched the mud. Don't play the timid schoolgirl with me now that you're locked in a restroom with me."
Panic flared in Emi's chest, and she pressed her back hard against the tiled wall, her breath hitching. She turned her face slightly to the side, desperately trying to break the heavy, intoxicating eye contact.
"Don't touch me like that, Aki-san," Emi managed to say, her voice breathless and dangerously tense. "What people paid to see on my private profile is one thing... and this is something else entirely. I am not a toy for the office's entertainment."
Far from being annoyed by the resistance, Aki’s lips curled into a deep, satisfied smile. She reached up with two fingers, gently but unyieldingly catching Emi's chin to bring her face back to the center, forcing the intern to look directly into her eyes.
"I know, gorgeous. That's why I like you," Aki whispered, her face moving closer until their mouths were flush against each other's skin, their breaths mixing in the tight warmth of the space. "Because on the internet, you sold a cold fantasy to thousands of strangers. But here, with me... you are truly trembling. So... that's exactly how I want to see you. Savage. Without your corporate masks. Promise me you won't run away when things get tough in here."
Emi closed her eyes tightly, completely surrendering to the weight of the touch and the proximity. "I can't promise you anything…" she whispered against Aki's lips, her body shaking, "but I don't want to leave."
Aki smiled with total self-satisfaction, slowly backing away toward the exit without breaking her gaze. "Then you are ready to survive."
The door closed behind the designer, leaving Emi alone once more. She opened her eyes and stared fixedly into the mirror. Her mouth was no longer that of a disgraced influencer looking for pity; it was now stained with the dark, bleeding carmine of a woman who had decided to exist within the chaos at any cost.
As night settled over the city, Tokyo began to blink like an ocean of infinite, distant lights behind the massive executive windows. Reina sat alone in the deep twilight of her private office. Seeking a momentary relief from the crushing weight of the day, she slipped off her high-heeled shoes with a heavy sigh of fatigue, letting her bare feet press against the cold wooden floor.
Reina looked down at her hands, unconsciously rubbing her thumb against her index finger at the exact spot where Yui's skin had brushed against hers earlier that morning by the desk. She exhaled a slow, frustrated sigh, realizing she had been completely unable to concentrate on a single blueprint ever since that ephemeral contact.
The glass door slid open without a sound. Yui walked in, holding a thick folder tightly against her chest. "You forgot to sign the Shibuya audit."
Reina looked up from her heavy leather armchair. Her sharp eyes didn't drop to the paperwork; instead, they tracked Yui's rigid posture, the tense fold in her skirt, and the rapid, shallow way she was breathing in the dark privacy of the room.
"You can leave it on the table," Reina said softly.
Yui didn't move. For a single second, her gaze trembled, completely shattering her perfect facade of traditional Japanese courtesy. "You shouldn't work this late, Reina-san. It's not good for you."
Reina raised an eyebrow, her voice dropping to a smooth, dangerous register. "And you? You haven't gone home either."
The heavy silence fell between them with a suffocating weight, pregnant with a raw desire that had been slowly maturing in the shadows of the agency for months. Reina stood up slowly, walking completely barefoot across the cold wood until she stood mere inches away from her assistant. She extended a single finger, slowly running it along the delicate inside of Yui's wrist, feeling her pulse racing wildly beneath the skin. Just a touch.
"You know perfectly well I can't do this..." Reina whispered, her voice laced with a sudden, painful vulnerability. "With Aki watching, with the constant pressure from the company, with this whole ecosystem..."
"Don't ask me to keep waiting in the hallways," Yui interrupted, her voice cracking as she held back a wave of hot tears. "Don't ask me to be the discreet ghost who holds your coats while you look at Aki. I have a body too, Reina-san. I want to, too."
Reina stared at her, her carefully sculpted marble mask melting away completely for the first time all day. "Then, if that's how it is… at least let me touch you tonight."
Yui nodded in an almost imperceptible movement. Reina extended her hand, her fingers caressing the smooth skin of Yui's neck before moving upward with an agonizing, heavy slowness toward her jaw. It was a desperate gesture, as if every passing second were a century of accumulated longing finally breaking through a crack in their walls.
Outside the glass office, in the absolute darkness of the deserted design floor, Sayaka stood completely motionless, hidden behind a concrete column. Before stepping deeper into the shadows, her eyes drifted for a brief second toward a small frame on the corner of her own desk: a photo of her six-year-old daughter smiling brightly in a sunny park. Right next to it was a clear, faded mark on the wood where her ex-husband's photo used to sit before everything fell apart.
Sayaka reached into her jacket pocket, her nails digging hard into a bundle of old, printed photographs until the paper crumpled under her grip. On the distorted paper, a much younger Reina could be clearly distinguished alongside Tomoe, the current CEO, kissing passionately in a dark Kyoto alley years ago.
Sayaka knew perfectly well what selfish, unbridled desire did to a family. She knew exactly how infidelity destroyed order. Her daughter needed her at home; she needed the absolute stability of her corporate salary to survive. She would not allow the moral debauchery of this office to sink Venus Design's international reputation. But her... Sayaka thought bitterly, staring into the dark, who needs her in this world of ice?
At that exact moment, the corporate phone buzzed in her palm with a dull, heavy vibration: Backup Alert: Executive Server. As Head of Human Resources, Sayaka possessed deep, administrative access to the internal network's communication logs.
She placed a wireless earbud into her ear and tapped the illuminated screen. Through the office glass, she watched Reina’s hand continue to softly stroke Yui’s neck. But in Sayaka's ear, what resonated was a freshly intercepted voicemail that had just entered Reina's private, restricted terminal. Tomoe's voice sounded soft, deep, and utterly devastating through the audio feed.
"Reina… I know we haven't spoken in five years," the CEO's voice murmured after a brief, dramatic pause. "But I just landed in Tokyo. I want to see you alone tomorrow night, before this entire empire crumbles. Because I know perfectly well what you feel. And I know you still feel it for me, too."
Sayaka slowly removed the earbud, her eyes wide open in the dark. She looked down at the old, crumpled photos in her hand, then looked back at Reina and Yui through the transparent glass. Now, the puzzle was complete.
The past had finally returned to destroy Venus Design.
