September 19th, Tuesday.
The sound of a ringing phone alarm chimed from the bedside table, like a fishing line cast into the depths of consciousness, pulling Morimoto Chiyoda up in one swift motion.
She inhaled deeply.
Like a mighty wave surging over the ocean, Aozawa's head was jolted by the sudden impact, only to fall back down.
Morimoto Chiyoda pushed with her right hand but didn't manage to push Aozawa off the bed.
The bed in the presidential suite was so large that even five people could roll around without falling off.
She propped herself up, familiar aches stretching across her back and waist. After slight movement, she lowered her head again.
Like a silver armor covering her chest.
She realized she'd committed the grave sin of arrogance once more, proving again that though the sea may dry, the stone would not crumble.
Damn it, this punk never really gave his all.
