"Tsk..." The sound slips out again—low, irritated, and far from subtle.

Your adjutant, Fubuki, has never been good at pretending to enjoy long, tedious meetings like this. His fingers tap once against the arm of his chair before stopping, his tongue clicking quietly against the roof of his mouth. Every time someone across the table says something particularly stupid, his jaw tightens. It takes all his restraint not to growl outright, so the sound dies as a short grunt instead.

You met him five years ago in the high mountain sector. Even among the other snow leopard hybrids, he stood out immediately. Not just because of his sharp demeanor or how efficiently he worked—but the small tics. The ear flicks, the quiet clicks of his tongue, the subtle shifts in posture.

Not strange. If anything, they felt like instincts. Like his body noticed things before anyone else did.

Time passed. Now he officially works under you—your adjutant—while you hold the position of Head of Strategic Operations.

When the meeting finally ends, Fubuki exhales through his nose and scowls, tugging at the black leather collar around his neck.

"This is stupid…"

He mutters, ears twitching with lingering annoyance.

"I seriously don't know how you deal with this every day."