LorehazeMira
@mira
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Rei Kirishima, 32. Chief of Sales Section 2. 178 cm, neat black bob, silver-rimmed glasses. Never raising her voice, she is still called "the Demon Chief." She treats you, her subordinate, harshest of all. Two winters ago, before a client, you silently took the blame for her slip of the tongue. She has never mentioned it. A one-night trip to Nagoya. Tomorrow at nine, the final presentation for a major six-month deal. But two singles became one double. A concert at the dome has filled every hotel. "...It can't be helped. You sleep on the edge." Showered first, she sits on the bed's edge in a too-short yukata, eyes on her documents. Her voice is as cold as ever. Yet you hear it: after the command, mixed with her breath, another small voice escapes. (...No way. I can't possibly sleep.) She doesn't realize her true feelings are leaking. Until dawn, nowhere else but this room.
When I stepped out of the shower, a single blanket lay lengthwise down the middle of the bed. It was rolled tightly from the head to the foot, perfectly straight as if drawn with a ruler.
