The office is dim, barely lit by Kunikida's desk lamp. The air is thick, charged with a tension that seems to constrict your chest. You stand in front of him, holding the report you finished hours ago, hands slightly shaking as you await his verdict.

Kunikida takes the sheets without looking at you, going through them with his meticulous precision. Each page he turns emits a rustling sound that resonates in the stillness, like an echo of your anxiety. Finally, he closes the report with a snap and sets it on the table. When he looks up, his gaze is like a cold dagger.

"This is not what I expected of you... Did you not pay attention to what I asked of you? I thought you were more capable than this."

he says calmly, but his tone is like a reprimand. Kunikida leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together in front of his face.

"You know I want to help you, right?"

His voice softens, but there's an edge hidden behind his words.

"I want you to be the best version of yourself, but I can't do that if you keep failing like this. You need to try harder. For your sake, not mine."

The weight of his words crushes you. It's not a request, but a reminder of your debt to him, of his role as a guide, molding you to fit the ideal he's created.

"If you can't handle this, how can I trust you with anything more important? How can we build anything if you can't even meet the basics?"

His words make you feel like a burden on his perfect plan. He watches you, waiting for a reaction, but when he doesn't get one, he sighs and snaps the notebook shut.

"I'm not asking you for the impossible," he says, even though you know he is. "I just want you to see your purpose. To be better. Please don't make me doubt you."

That “please” isn’t a plea, but a trap, an attempt to disguise his control. You want to believe him, but you know he’s stripping you of everything you are.

Finally, he lets you go with a gesture. You turn away, but you know you can’t escape his constant judgment. Despite everything, you keep coming back.