Monday.
I sat facing my monitor in the CEO’s office, bathed in the afternoon sunlight.
Lately, the small numbers have started to blur. I don’t want to admit it, but I think it’s my age.
Reluctantly donning the prescription computer glasses I’d had made, I reviewed the third-quarter data. Competitor share, our own CPA, LTV trends. I traced the numbers, plotting my next move.
There was a knock at the door.
“Excuse me, cleaning.”
From the voice and the height, I knew it was a woman.
Before I could respond, a petite cleaner in gray coveralls entered quietly. Her cap was pulled low, and a mask hid the lower half of her face.
Pulling her cart along, the cleaner began working silently, moving methodically from one corner of the room to the next. She was efficient.
I returned my gaze to the screen and continued typing.
I focused on the data. Where was the conversion rate dropping? The top of the funnel, or the middle?
I crossed my arms, forming a hypothesis.
Then, the phone rang. It was Inoue, an employee currently out at a client site.
“Yes, this is Seto.”
“President, about next month’s promotion budget—the agency says the ROAS target isn’t realistic—”
“They’re confusing engagement rates with conversions. There’s no point in lowering the cost per impression if it doesn’t reach the bottom of the funnel. Have the agency verify. Tell them to send the CVR by segment first, then we’ll restructure the budget. Bring it to me by the end of the week.”
“…Yes, understood.”
“Thanks.”
I ended the call as soon as the business was concluded. It hadn’t even taken twenty seconds. I adjusted my glasses and returned to the data.
“Excuse me, the trash can by your feet—”
“Eh? Oh, right.”
I pulled my chair back slightly. The cleaner crouched down and reached for the bin.
For some reason, I looked in her direction.
Beneath the brim of the cap, our eyes met.
Long eyelashes. Bright brown pupils in eyes so large they were startling. Deep within them, I recognized a look.
—Wait.
My heart skipped a beat.
“…Hold on.”
My voice came out lower than intended.
“Eh, Yuno? Why are you…”
The cleaner—Yuno—slowly slid her mask down to her chin. She curled the corner of her mouth and poked her tongue out slightly. She looked up at me with a mischievous smile.
Then, sliding the mask back up to her nose, she returned to cleaning in silence as if nothing had happened. She replaced the trash bag and set the bin back in place.
“I was looking for a cleaning part-time job. I like cleaning, after all. Then I found a listing for this building.”
Yuno narrowed her eyes and added, “It really was just a coincidence.”
“I see,” I replied simply, returning my fingers to the keyboard. I gave my glasses a quick push up.
I tried to act composed, but my heart was pounding.
I was looking at the numbers on the screen, but nothing was sinking in. Yuno continued to move silently through the room. The sound of her wiping shelves, the presence of her tidying near the window. I could tell her path was gradually drawing closer to me.
Unconsciously, my eyes followed her movements.
Having apparently finished the cleaning, Yuno pulled off her disposable gloves and tossed them into the trash bag on her cart.
Then, I suddenly felt a warmth against my back.
Before long, Yuno’s chin rested softly on my right shoulder. Her face was so close I could hear her breathing.
Yuno’s hand gently overlapped my right hand on the mouse. Her slender, white fingers rested atop mine.
“Hey, Big Sister?”
A small whisper in my ear.
“You really are cool when you’re working.”
A shiver ran down my spine, from the nape of my neck down to my waist.
“Wh… what? Enough already. Just leave once you’re done.”
“Can’t I watch for just a little longer? From up close.”
I felt her gaze at point-blank range.
Inevitably, I turned my eyes toward her. Seeing those sultry, downcast eyes made my chest ache with a throbbing intensity.
Yuno’s index finger slowly traced over my fingers on the mouse, one by one.
From the base of my index finger to the tip, then from the tip of my middle finger back to the base.
Carefully, teasingly, slowly.
“…Ngh.”
From the webbing of my fingers to the back of my hand, she traced a path so light it barely touched.
She used her nails to sweetly graze the veins protruding on the back of my hand.
Every time Yuno’s fingers moved skillfully, a current surged through me, sending tremors throughout my entire body.
“…Mnh.”
A sound escaped me involuntarily.
“Aha, you made a noise.”
“Stop it. That’s enough.”
“I don’t know, seeing you in full ‘Perfect President Mode’ just made me want to tease you.”
Here we go again. Teasing her elder like this, and without a hint of remorse.
She continued to look up at me, savoring my reaction.
I adjusted my glasses and glared at her.
“If you keep doing things like that, I’ll report you to your employer.”
“So scary. Okay, okay!”
Yuno pulled away readily. As she headed for the exit with her cart, she spoke without looking back.
“Excuse me~!”
Click.
The door closed quietly.
—What was that?
Silence returned to the office. Only the monitor glowed white, with data lined up in a sterile row.
My heart was still racing. A deep tremor lingered in my body, an ache that wouldn’t subside.
The warmth remained on my back. I felt as though her voice was still lingering by my ear.
I took off my glasses and closed my eyes. Unconsciously, my brow furrowed.
What just happened.
And then, the kiss from the other night. Yuno’s heartbreaking, abandoned-kitten face as she cried. The lewd expression she wore when she kissed me ravenously.
No…
I’m remembering it again.
These things have been happening more often lately.
Probably since that night… the night Yuno cried.
In the middle of work, in the quiet moments, Yuno drifts into my mind.
Before I know it, I’m thinking of her. Even as I tell myself I’m too old to be doing this, I can’t stop.
I feel as though Yuno is eroding my defenses, slowly and surely.
Does she know what she’s doing, or is she unaware?
I have to prepare the materials for the 3:00 PM meeting. This is bad; it’s already 1:00 PM and I’m not even halfway done.
I put my glasses back on and looked at the monitor filled with rows of numbers and graphs.
I let out a long breath and placed my fingers on the keyboard.
I knew I had to concentrate, but my heart refused to settle down.