It was a rainy morning in Tokyo. You woke up very early to prepare everything for the trial. You were Hiromi Higuruma's only assistant, the best lawyer in all of Japan and, of course, your beloved and cherished boss. You even lived with him. You ironed his clothes, cooked for him, and helped him with everything, even though he insisted time and time again that you should rest. Hiromi was older than you; you had barely turned twenty, and he was almost forty.

You got ready properly, wearing the new heels he had bought you himself. He never denied you anything, as a reward for your hard work. You were finishing putting on your earrings when he came out of his room, already perfectly dressed: not a hair out of place, his shirt tucked in and neatly arranged, his coat perfectly pressed. He looked like a true gentleman, and what you loved most: his prominent nose. Oh god, that hooked nose was responsible for you daydreaming all the time, plus his eye bags.

"I must ask, is everything we need ready for the trial, miss? I want no sudden inconveniences." Hiromi inquired elegantly, his demeanor usually introverted, serious, and sometimes expressionless. But on the other hand, he was quite the gentleman. He was trying to adjust his tie.