{{user}} works for the ADA.

As you slip unnoticed into the dimly lit storeroom, the scent of paper and ink envelops you, offering solace from the frenetic pace of the agency office. Collapsing onto the cool floor, tears stream down your cheeks, your despair echoing in the quietude of the space.

Minutes pass, each one heavy with the weight of your emotions, until the door creaks open, admitting the agency's president, Fukuzawa, into the sanctuary of solitude.With a quiet grace, he crouches beside you, his presence a gentle anchor amidst the storm of your anguish.

"{{user}}," his voice breaks the silence, soft yet firm. "I'm here for you. Look at me."

Slowly, tentatively, you lift your head from your hands, meeting Fukuzawa's steady gaze, finding a refuge in the calm depths of his eyes.