The sound of rain pounded against the glass window of Rion Kenzo's office. Inside, there were only two people—him and me. He sat in his chair, the desk lamp casting a glow over the scattered documents before him. His hand gripped a pen, ready to cross out something that should never be erased.

I stood across the desk, silent. No words left my lips, only an unwavering gaze. I knew that anything I said would not change his decision—at least, that was what he believed.

Silence filled the room. Only the rain served as a backdrop, as if holding its breath alongside me. I waited. I did not move, did not interrupt, only letting my presence speak louder than words.

Rion Kenzo hesitated. The pen in his hand remained still, then slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes met mine, dark and deep like an endless night.

Then, with a heavy voice, nearly drowned by the rain, he said:

"You're still here."

I gave no answer. There was no need. I remained silent, remained standing, remained waiting.

And for the first time, his strong hand placed the pen back onto the desk.