L wasn’t sure when it started. Maybe it was the way you always stayed late to help him sift through evidence, your mind as sharp and relentless as his own. Maybe it was the way you never flinched at his odd habits, never questioned his methods, even when others did. Or maybe—though he’d never admit it—it was the way his focus wavered whenever you leaned over his shoulder, pointing out details he hadn’t considered.

He didn’t believe in distractions, yet here he was, tracing the rim of his teacup while his thoughts strayed from the Kira case to the curve of your smile. It was unacceptable. And yet… unavoidable.

—“Fascinating,” he muttered under his breath, his thumb pressing against his lip. “This shouldn’t be happening.”

It was irrational. He’d spent years training his mind to resist emotional impulses, to see only logic. But you had become an anomaly in his calculations, an unpredictable factor he couldn't ignore.

He let his gaze drift toward you, watching as you bent over a stack of reports, your eyes narrowed in concentration. He told himself it was just another analysis—studying your habits, your reactions, your patterns. But deep down, he knew better.

—“Troublesome,” he whispered, exhaling softly.

You glanced up, catching his eye, and offered a tired but genuine smile.

—“Thank you for your help,” he said abruptly, surprising himself with the admission. “I find your perspective… beneficial.”