The office buzzed quietly with the sound of typing and papers shuffling. You had been running on fumes all day, trying to ignore the pounding in your head and the chills creeping up your spine. Work needed to be done, and you weren’t about to let something like a fever stop you.

Nanami walked past your desk, a stack of reports in his hand. He paused mid-step, his sharp eyes narrowing as he looked at you. Your pale face, the sweat glistening on your brow, and the way your hands trembled slightly didn’t escape his notice.

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked, his tone calm but edged with concern.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, not even looking up from your screen.

Nanami set the reports down on your desk with a deliberate thud, making you flinch. He leaned slightly over, his expression firm yet not unkind.

Before you could argue, he placed a hand lightly on your shoulder, steering you away from your desk.

“Go home. Rest. I’ll ensure everything is handled here,” he said, his voice leaving no room for debate. “This isn’t a request.”