Kato Hiromi didn't take the flower—she didn't even look at it. She drew a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm, then said in the most businesslike, emotionless tone she could manage:
"Oda-san, I believe I've made myself very clear, and more than once. I'm not going to accept your confession—not now, not ever. Also, we are only coworkers. We're not nearly familiar enough for you to call me by my given name, so please address me as Kato-san from now on."
She paused, hardened her tone, and delivered the line she'd prepared. "And as I've already said, I have a boyfriend, and our relationship is stable. Please stop doing things that can be misconstrued."
But Oda Toshita seemed immune to rejection. He even let out a derisive chuckle, wearing an obnoxious, all-seeing confidence on his face.
"Hiromi, drop the act, will you? Like I wouldn't know whether you have a boyfriend." He stepped closer, lowered his voice, and spoke in a creepily leering tone. "Heh, I've been watching you for a long time. In the years you've worked here, aside from your little sister dropping things off, what man has ever come to pick you up after work? You say you have a boyfriend? Yeah right—who are you trying to fool? You're obviously single. You just have high standards and look down on ordinary guys."
That "I've got you all figured out" look sent a wave of disgust through Hiromi. This presumptuous surveillance and relentless pestering was already outright harassment.
She fought the urge to smash her folder into his face and fixed him with a long, level look—cold, with the weight of a final warning. "Sorry, Oda-san, your 'observations' are inaccurate. I've already told my boyfriend about your harassment, and he's furious. He'll be picking me up after work today. This is your last warning: stop harassing me, or deal with the consequences."
"What? He's coming today?" Oda was clearly taken aback. The smug smile froze, then he frowned, eyes full of doubt and disdain. "Hmph, fine! I'll be here to see what kind of 'mystery boyfriend' he is. Don't you dare try the old 'overtime' or 'last-minute emergency' excuse."
Grudgingly, he withdrew the rose, muttered "such a show," and went back to his desk—though his eyes kept darting her way, clearly planning to verify it at quitting time.
Watching him leave, Hiromi exhaled in relief—then her heart leapt right back into her throat. Rei Ao… will he really come today? Someone like him—would he forget something this trivial? Or change his mind at the last minute? If he didn't show, after all she'd said, how much worse would the pestering be tomorrow?
…The whole day, Hiromi was on edge, barely getting anything done. Oda's sickening gaze crawled over her like maggots on bone, sweeping past now and then and making her squirm in her seat.
Time crept by in a mix of anxiety and hope—until finally, quitting time!
Hiromi packed up right on the dot and hurried toward the doors. Her heart pounded. She both longed to see that familiar figure immediately and dreaded an empty scene.
And of course, what she feared came first. She had barely stepped outside when that clinging voice sounded behind her.
"Hiromi, what's the rush? Aren't you waiting for your boyfriend?" Oda had, predictably, followed her out, wearing a taunting, spectator's grin. "So where is he? Stuck in traffic? Or is it that… he doesn't exist?"
Hiromi ignored the sneers and scanned the street, frantic—nothing. Her heart sank bit by bit, her face darkening with nerves and disappointment. Had he actually forgotten? Or decided it was too tedious to bother?
Seeing her silent and searching with an ugly expression, Oda felt even more certain she was bluffing. He grinned triumphantly, grew bolder, and stepped in closer. "Heh, nothing to say now, huh? I knew you were lying."
Her cheeks, flushed with anger and embarrassment, looked especially enticing in the sunset, stoking his lechery. "Since you don't have a boyfriend either, you must be lonely after being single so long, right? Why not be my girlfriend?"
He started toward her. Staying composed, Hiromi pulled out her phone and dialed the police. "Stop!"
Hearing the emergency call, Oda panicked instantly.
Just then—VROOOOM!
A deep, muscular engine roar rolled in, closing fast like a beast's bellow, tearing through the after-work din. The sound reeked of money and power, and every head at the entrance snapped around.
At the end of the street, a dark-blue supercar—sleek lines, an aggressive silhouette, paint gleaming with expensive luster in the sunset—shot toward them like a bolt of blue lightning. It threaded between cars with surgical precision, then, with a gorgeous, domineering slide, came to a steady stop right in front of Hiromi and Oda. The tires sang a soft, satisfying squeal against the asphalt.
The scissor doors lifted like an eagle's wings, drawing every eye. A beat later, a figure stepped out of the driver's seat, unhurried.
He wore a well-cut, label-less but exquisitely made casual suit that flattered his tall, straight frame. His looks were almost unreal, features chiseled and deep.
His eyes were calm and unreadable, yet seemed to hold starry seas within—hard to look at directly. He casually smoothed the stray hair at his brow, the motion natural yet carrying an indescribable nobility and pressure.
"—!!"
Delight flashed in Hiromi's eyes. Who else could it be but Rei Ao?