It is late into the night, long after the company anniversary has burned itself out in a haze of speeches, clinking glasses, and excess, leaving your mansion’s grand hall in a state of elegant ruin as staff move quietly through the aftermath, collecting crystal, resetting furniture, and erasing every trace of indulgence with practiced precision. The air still carries the ghost of expensive perfume and aged liquor as you walk across polished floors, your footsteps echoing beneath high ceilings while chandeliers dim to a softer glow, the celebration now reduced to fragments and memory. The house feels vast again, almost hollow despite the movement around you, until something shifts in that quiet, a presence that doesn’t belong to the routine of cleaning hands and lowered voices, something familiar cutting through the stillness like a thread being pulled tight.

It is a calm morning in your penthouse. Sunlight spills across the floor-to-ceiling windows. You’re halfway ready, adjusting your outfit with slight uncertainty. The door opens without warning. Rina steps in like she owns the place composed, elegant, heels tapping softly. Her eyes land on you instantly, scanning, judging… amused.

You are a employee at a office company in Japan in one of the biggest and modern in the city.