The first touch of dawn was a soft, apologetic glow filtering through the curtains of Naea's bedroom. When she woke, she didn't find the usual heavy, suffocating weight of a morning migraine or the sharp stabs of her injury. Instead, she felt light. She moved her leg tentatively, expecting the electric jolt of pain to shoot up her spine, but it was gone. Akira's RICE treatment—the meticulous 20 and 15-minute cycles of icing and elevation—had worked like a silent miracle. Naea took a deep breath, her heart feeling a strange, fluttery warmth as she limped toward the bathroom to freshen up.
Across the hallway in Apartment 42, Akira was already wide awake. She had only allowed herself two or three hours of sleep after ensuring Naea was stable. Her discipline was an iron cage; even after the emotional exhaustion of the gala, she woke precisely on schedule. After a quick shower, she didn't think of her own breakfast. Her mind was fixed on Naea. She stood in her kitchen, her movements precise and clinical, as she prepared a perfect, nutrient-dense healthy meal. She plated it with a perfectionist's eye, her hands steady as she carried the tray toward Apartment 44.
𝕌𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕄𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥
Naea was in the middle of drying her hair, the hum of the dryer filling the quiet room, when the doorbell chimed. She paused, a frown creasing her forehead. Who would visit this early? She checked the security monitor and her heart sank. It was Kenji. He stood there with a bright smile, holding a bag that likely contained breakfast for two.
Reluctantly, Naea opened the door. Kenji burst in with a cheerful, "Good Morning, Naea!"
"Morning, Kenji," she replied softly.
Kenji's eyes lit up. "I brought your favorite breakfast. Let's eat together." Naea didn't have the energy to argue. She took the bag and headed toward the kitchen island to plate the food. As she moved, Kenji's smile faltered. He noticed her gait—slow, cautious, and slightly uneven.
"Naea, what happened to your foot? Are you in pain?" his voice was thick with genuine concern.
Naea's mind raced. She knew Kenji. If she told him the truth, he would never leave, suffocating her with unwanted care. "It's nothing,she lied, her voice steady. "I'm just drained from last night. My muscles are just heavy." Kenji accepted the answer, though his eyes lingered on her feet. They sat at the kitchen island, the silence filled only by the sound of clinking cutlery.
𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔼𝕩𝕚𝕥
"By the way," Kenji said, trying to regain his playful tone, "I had your car fixed and parked downstairs. Don't worry about a thing."
"Thank you, Kenji," Naea said, truly appreciative of the gesture.
"In friendship, there's no sorry or thank you," he replied with a wink.
At that exact moment, Akira stood outside the door. She was about to press the bell when she felt a shift in the air—a sense that something was 'off.' Using the passcode she had memorized the night before—7986—she let herself in. The scene before her was like a physical blow to the stomach. There sat Naea and Kenji, looking for all the world like a domestic couple sharing a morning meal.
The rage that surged through Akira was so violent it made her vision blur. She wanted to hurl the healthy meal she had prepared directly at Kenji's head. But she was a Prosecutor; she excelled at holding the storm within. Her eyes locked with Naea's for exactly one second. In that second, Naea saw the raw, jagged betrayal in Akira's gaze. Without a word, Akira turned on her heel and walked out. Naea remained frozen, the food in her mouth suddenly tasting like ash. Kenji sensed someone had entered, but by the time he looked, the door was already clicking shut.
𝕄𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕦 𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕚: 𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℕ𝕖𝕨 𝕍𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖
Akira reached her apartment and slammed the door. She packed the meal she had made into a lunch container, her movements robotic. By the time she reached the parking lot and pulled her car onto the street, her face was a mask of cold indifference. She regretted staying. She regretted caring.
When she arrived at the office, the atmosphere was strange. Everyone was sipping Matcha Tea. She ignored the curious looks and retreated to her cabin. A few minutes later, there was a knock.
"Come in," Akira said, her voice like ice.
A young woman stepped in. She was Macau Maki, 24 years old, and Akira's new working coordinator. She was tall, dressed in a sharp formal outfit, with her long hair pulled into a sophisticated bun. She had an aura of effortless competence.
"Good Morning, Prosecutor Akira Mijustsi," Macau said, extending a hand. Akira shook it firmly, but briefly. Macau offered her a cup of Matcha, which Akira immediately declined. "I don't drink that."
"What's your background?" Akira asked, getting straight to business. Macau gave her intro with a confident smile.
"Fine," Akira replied, handing her a stack of files. "Analysis these and arrange them in perfect order."
"But I just got here!" Macau joked, a playful glint in her eyes.
"Are you here for a picnic or to work?" Akira's voice was like a whip.
Macau's smile wavered, but she didn't break. "How long do I have?"
"Five minutes."
ℕ𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝔼𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕥 𝕎𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕤𝕥
The day was a blur of high-intensity work. Naea had taken a leave of absence to clean her apartment, but every time she swept a floor or folded laundry, she saw Akira's face from the morning. Meanwhile, Akira buried herself in the case, uncovering every detail of the main culprits with relentless focus.
By nightfall, Macau had realized she had lost her house keys. Seeing no other option, Akira—in a rare moment of practical kindness—invited her to stay at her place in the White Frost building. As they pulled into the parking lot, Naea happened to be returning from a grocery run. She was wearing a casual outfit, her hair in a messy bun, looking soft and radiant even in her exhaustion.
Macau's eyes widened. "Wow! I didn't know such beautiful woman lived in White Frost," she whispered to Akira.
Akira looked up from checking her car locks and saw Naea. Macau, being her social self, waved a friendly 'Hi' at the stranger. Naea, surprised by the friendliness, responded with a dazzling, genuine smile. Akira watched the exchange, her face a blank wall. Naea's gaze shifted to the person standing behind Macau. She saw Akira, but her expression didn't change. She didn't wave. She didn't smile. She simply turned and headed for the lift.
Akira's jaw tightened. "If she feels that much better, maybe she should run a marathon," she thought bitterly.
Macau, still staring at the lift doors, sighed. "I think I could die for a smile like that."
"Behave," Akira snapped, her voice cutting through the night air like a blade.