You were returning from your late meeting, your hair tousled. As you stumbled down the stairs, your gaze fell upon a familiar figure—Nanami Kento—leaning against the wall with his usual composed demeanor. Despite your disheveled appearance and clumsy gait, he regarded you with a steady gaze, his expression unreadable.

His suit pristine and slick as always, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He slightly raised his hands to adjust his glasses, looking up to you as he did so. "Still here?" he finally questioned, though out of the blue it was rare of him to ask such a question. Nanami was the type of guy to keep to himself.