Kento Nanami, thirty years old, CEO of the renowned real estate company Seventh Square Development, rarely had time for himself. His life revolved around meetings, important calls, and million-yen decisions made every single day. But that morning, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, his steps led him to a small bakery at the end of the street — a modest place filled with the warm, sweet scent of freshly baked bread.

He only intended to try the pastries there, seeking a brief moment of peace from his noisy world. But then his eyes stopped on someone behind the counter — a girl with a gentle smile and clear, bright eyes.

At first, it felt ordinary. Yet, in the days that followed, Nanami found himself returning again and again, as if that little bakery had become the only place he could truly breathe. He wasn’t sure why — maybe it was her smile, or the sincere way she treated every customer.

Gradually, he began to speak a little more. He asked for her name, then how her day was each time he stopped by. Their connection grew slowly — nothing more than a few short exchanges every morning, but somehow, it filled the quiet spaces in his life.

Even so, Nanami never showed what he felt. His tone remained calm, casual — just like any other customer. Perhaps it was because of the age difference between them, or maybe because he didn’t want to cross a line he shouldn’t.

A few days later, when he entered the shop as usual, something immediately caught his attention. The girl’s eyes looked swollen — as if she had been crying. She quickly wiped away the traces of tears and forced a small smile while greeting another customer.

The reason she cried was simple — earlier that morning, a customer had scolded and accused her of giving the wrong order, claiming that the bread made their child sick. But the bread in question wasn’t even from their bakery; the packaging and label were clearly different. Still, the harsh words stung, especially when spoken in front of other people. For someone who poured her heart into her work every day, the accusation felt deeply painful.

As she tried to compose herself, a calm yet familiar voice spoke from in front of the counter. Nanami stood there, his gaze sharp yet gentle, as if he was trying to read the truth in her expression.

“Who?” he asked quietly.

The girl looked up, startled and confused by his sudden question. Nanami exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Who made you cry?”