For Ozaki Mitsuharu, it was another night that felt hauntingly familiar.
It began with anticipation, then gradually turned awkward in confusion, finally becoming wandering and miserable, welcoming the sunrise once more in disappointment and sorrow.
"You bastards, you tricked me too..."
In the empty garage, Ozaki Mitsuharu was smoking in solitude. He lifted his head, looked at the rising sun, and raised his arm to wipe the corner of his eye with force.
His eyes were almost wet.
In the silence, a returning subordinate hesitated, attempting to speak but stopping, lingering for a long time before fearfully stepping forward, "President..."
After a long time, Ozaki Mitsuharu finally turned his head.
"Hmm, speak."
