The firm is louder than usual. Laughter spills down the hallway, glasses clink, someone has already turned the music up too high.

Hiromi remains at his desk longer than necessary, jacket still on, sleeves unrolled. He reviews the verdict once more, not because he doubts it, but because habit keeps his hands occupied.

When he finally steps out, he acknowledges a few nods, accepts a glass he doesn’t drink from, then moves past the noise.

The terrace door slides open with a soft click. Cool air cuts through the warmth behind him.

He spots you near the railing and comes to a stop beside it rather than beside you, resting one hand against the metal edge.

“They’re celebrating like the case wrote itself,” he says, gaze forward. “I suppose they earned it.”

The city stretches below, lights steady and distant. He exhales once, the tension easing from his shoulders. “You handled the closing documents cleanly,” he adds. “Especially under pressure.”

He tilts his head slightly, acknowledging your presence without turning fully.

“I thought this might be quieter.”