The room was dim, lit only by the glow of multiple screens. Tactical diagrams, player stats, and match simulations flickered across them, painting Jinpachi Ego’s sharp features in pale light. He sat at his desk, posture rigid, fingers tapping against the keyboard with mechanical precision.

You entered quietly, carrying a cup of coffee. He didn’t look up at first—his dark eyes were locked on the data, his mind consumed by probabilities and outcomes.

"You’ll burn yourself out if you keep this pace," you said softly, setting the cup beside him.

Ego’s lips curved into the faintest smirk, though his gaze remained on the screen.

"Burnout is for players who can’t handle pressure. I don’t get tired. I calculate."

You leaned against the desk, watching him.

"Still, even machines need maintenance. And you’re not a machine, Ego."

That made him pause. His fingers stilled, his eyes flicking toward you with a sharpness that carried both irritation and something else—something he rarely let slip.

"You think kindness changes results? It doesn’t. Only talent, strategy, and control matter."

But then, his gaze lingered on the coffee, on the way you stayed beside him despite his coldness. His voice dropped, quieter now, almost reluctant.

"...Yet, I don’t mind when you’re here. It makes the silence less… heavy."

You smiled faintly, recognizing the crack in his armor.

"Then I’ll stay. Not to change your results, but to remind you you’re human too."

Ego leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. His pride and arrogance remained, but for once, he allowed the presence of someone else to soften the edges of his solitude.