The Sunday air in Tokyo was cool and crisp, a stark contrast to the heavy warmth of the Japanese feast the three of them had just shared. Akira, Naea, and Macau had spent the afternoon indulging in traditional delicacies, laughing and eating until the very thought of another bite felt impossible. By the time they reached the "White Frost Empire" at 10:00 PM, exhaustion had settled deep into their bones. With the looming shadow of the work week ahead, there was no room for late-night chatter. They retreated to their respective rooms, seeking refuge in sleep.
However, Macau was still buzzing with the sheer luxury of the penthouse. Before Akira could disappear into her suite, Macau stopped her. "Akira, this place is incredible. I was wondering... how much rent would you want for me to stay here?"
Akira paused, a look of genuine confusion crossing her face. "Rent? For what?"
"For living here! In this guest room," Macau explained, gesturing around the obsidian-tiled hallway. "I'm already so comfortable."
Akira's expression shifted. The confusion was replaced by a familiar, calculated poise. She moved toward the velvet couch, sitting down with the grace of a monarch. "You can stay," she said, her voice dropping into that cold, commanding register. "But there are rules."
"Rules?" Macau asked, her eyes wide. "What kind of rules?"
"First," Akira began, her gaze locking onto Macau's. "You are not to meet Naea without my knowledge. If you want to see her, you take me with you. No exceptions."
Macau blinked, puzzled. "That's a strange rule... why?"
"Don't question me. Just follow it," Akira replied, her tone brooking no argument. She then laid out the domestic logistics: five days of dinner duty for Macau, two for Akira . Professional talk stayed at the office; the home was a neutral zone. Then came the final rule, which made Macau struggle to hide a smirk. "Every Sunday, we go out. But it won't just be us. Naea comes too. And you," she pointed at Macau, "will be the one to invite her."
Macau nearly laughed at the sheer possessiveness masked as a household rule. Akira was serious—deadly serious. As Akira got up and walked toward her room, she tossed a final warning over her shoulder: "Go to bed. I don't like late-comers."
As Macau did her night-care routine, she couldn't help but wonder: Does Prosecutor Akira simply admire Dr. Sato, or is this something much ? I'll have to find out.
Monday: The Burden of Life
Monday morning arrived with the sterile efficiency of a working day. Naea followed her clockwork routine—exercise, a quick freshening up, and a quiet breakfast before heading to the hospital.Akira was the next to rise. Despite her cold exterior, she spent the morning preparing breakfast .Akira, ever the silent guardian, packed two lunches—one for herself and an extra one, her hidden kindness showing through the cracks of her cold exterior.When Macau emerged, ready to book a cab, Akira stopped her. "Cancel it. You're coming with me. Don't waste time waiting for a driver." The car ride to the Prosecutor's office was silent, Akira's hands steady on the wheel, her mind already on her cases.
But across the city, Naea was facing a nightmare.
A young adolescent had been brought in after a catastrophic accident. The boy was broken, his vitals fading. His parents grabbed Naea's white coat, their voices cracking with desperation. "He's our only child! Please, Doctor... save him. Please!"
Naea didn't give them a false promise. She spoke with a calm, professional empathy that gave them a fleeting moment of peace. "I will do everything in my power. Don't lose heart."
The Surgery of Limits:
Inside the Operating Theater, the atmosphere was suffocating. Naea pushed herself to the absolute edge of her surgical brilliance. She spent hours under the hot theater lights, her hands moving with a precision that bordered on the divine. Every artery she clamped, every suture she placed was a battle against the inevitable. She pushed her physical and mental limits, refusing to accept the encroaching darkness.
But death is a persistent thief.
Despite every ounce of her skill, the monitor flatlined. The boy was gone. For the first time in her illustrious career, a surgery had failed her. After the operation flatlined, her face remained carved from the same stone as always—betraying no difference between a victory and a defeat. She stayed locked in her full professional avatar, the stoic surgeon whose only duty was to push every limit of human capability, even when the outcome had been stolen from her hands by fate itself. From the outside, she appeared as nothing more than a serious, composed doctor, but beneath that sterile mask, she was utterly shattered. Her soul was screaming, a haunting internal wail that demanded to know why she hadn't been enough, and where, despite all her brilliance, she had failed. In that moment, Naea was drowning in a silent, internal flood of tears, mourning the first true crack in the foundation of her professional life. The weight of her promise—the "everything in my power"—felt like lead.
She couldn't bring herself to face the parents. She turned to Dr. Taki, her voice hollow. "You tell them." She slipped out the side door, unable to witness the moment their hope died.Naea stood outside, fighting to breathe, trying to regain control over her emotions, when Kenji appeared. She tried to act normal, but Kenji was on a mission."The moment her eyes landed on Kenji, she instinctively turned around, retreating back into the hospital."
"Naea, wait," he called out. He looked pained, his patience finally snapping. "When were you going to tell me about Itsuki? I've been waiting since the birthday party to ask. How serious is it? I need to know everything."
Naea froze. She didn't turn around. Her voice was barely a whisper. "Who told you that name?"
"Prosecutor Akira," Kenji replied, oblivious to the bomb he was dropping. "She said he was an old friend of hers and that you two were in a serious relationship. Why hide it from me?"
The air around Naea turned to ice. Akira. The name echoed in her mind with a terrifying resonance. Without a word to Kenji, without even a glance back, "She makes her way back into the hospital."
After the grueling operation, Naea stood by the scrub sink, her movements mechanical and hollow. She meticulously washed the scent of latex and the invisible weight of failure from her hands and face, the cold water doing little to numb the ache in her chest. Shaking off the remnants of her professional facade, she retreated to the locker room to discard her blood-stained surgical scrubs, trading them for her civilian clothes as if trying to shed the memory of the boy she couldn't save. Without a word to her colleagues or a glance back at the sterile halls, she headed straight for the parking lot. The heavy thud of her car door closing felt like a final seal on the day's tragedy; she started the engine and pulled out of the hospital grounds, driving toward home with a mind blurred by grief and the haunting echo of the lie Akira had woven behind her back.Kenji was left standing there, feeling the sting of her silence. "I want an answer, Dr. Sato. If not today, then tomorrow."Unaware of the fire she had started, Akira was at the office, her focus on her files.Just then, Macau approached, breaking the silence to inform Akira that she needed to leave. Without even looking up from her work, Akira's voice remained flat as she asked where she was going. Macau explained that it was her friend's birthday and he was throwing a party; since the celebrations were expected to stretch into the late hours of the night, she wouldn't be returning to the White Frost penthouse. Instead, she promised to meet Akira directly at the office the following morning. Akira gave her approval with a characteristic chill, reminding Macau that she had no patience for late-comers. A smile played on Macau's lips as she chirped, "Okay, Boss," vowing to beat Akira to the office before the day even began. With a simple, dismissive "Hm," Akira ended the conversation. Once Macau had exited, Akira spent another five minutes "As she spent those final five minutes scanning the files, her eyes suddenly locked onto a massive detail she had previously overlooked. A wave of pure satisfaction washed over her; it was the breakthrough she needed. A rare, triumphant smile touched her lips, and in that moment of joy, she knew exactly how she wanted to celebrate."