She didn't take it immediately.
Instead, she slid off the desk with a smooth movement, heels touching the floor with a sharp tap. Standing, she was even taller than he'd thought, the four-year age gap suddenly feeling wider. She closed the distance between them in three measured steps, the scent of her perfume tightening the air around him.
Up close, the problem got worse.
From his angle, his gaze naturally fell straight toward the opening of her blouse. The pendant shifted gently as she walked, drawing the eye to the soft curve beneath. His brain screamed at him to look at her face. His eyes didn't listen.
"Your eyes are very honest, Tanaka-kun," she said.
He flinched as if slapped. "S–Sorry! I didn't mean— I wasn't—"
A tiny pause. Then, to his horror, the corner of her mouth lifted the slightest bit.
"I didn't ask you to explain," she said. "I asked you to bring your work."
She finally took the report from his hands. Her fingers brushed his for half a second—cool, steady. She flipped through the pages in silence, eyes moving quickly, lashes casting small shadows on her cheeks. Ryo stared at the far wall, forcing himself to count the ceiling tiles.
"It's your first morning," she said at last. "I expected worse."
He blinked. "So it's… okay?"
"For a beginner."
She shut the file with a soft thud.
"You followed the template. Your formatting is clean. You missed two inconsistencies in the data notes, which I already corrected." She tapped the corner of the report against his chest, just above his racing heart. "Next time, find them yourself before I do."
"Y-Yes, Fujimoto-san."
Her eyes narrowed, not unkindly, but sharply.
"You're trembling."
"I'm just… nervous because it's my first time in your office."
"Everyone is nervous their first time in my office," she replied. "Some of them stay that way."
Her gaze flicked to his shoulders, his posture, his clenched hands.
"Relax enough to think, Tanaka-kun. Fear is useless if it makes you stupid."
He tried to take a breath that didn't sound like a dying animal. "I'll remember that."
"Good."
She moved back to the desk, setting the report down, then looked at him over her shoulder. From this angle, the city lights framed her silhouette, turning the edges of her hair to gold.
"From today, you report to me directly. That means your mistakes are my responsibility. Don't make me regret accepting you onto my team."
"I… I won't."
She held his gaze for a moment, as if weighing the truth of those words. Then she turned fully, hopping back onto the edge of the desk, legs crossing again with practiced ease.
"You may go," she said. "I've seen enough for today."
Ryo bowed so deeply his tie swung forward. "Thank you very much!"
He backed toward the door, careful not to trip, every cell in his body screaming to escape and stay at the same time. His hand fumbled for the handle.
"Tanaka-kun."
He froze. "Yes?"
"When you walk out there," Ayane said, lifting her mug again, "they're all going to ask you what I was like."
She took a small sip, eyes never leaving his.
"Tell them I'm exactly as strict as they think I am."
He swallowed. "O-Okay."
"And…" A faint glint of amusement appeared at the edge of her gaze. "If you insist on staring, at least learn to do it after you've delivered perfect work."
His face went up in flames. "I—I'll bring perfect work next time!"
She smiled then—a real smile, small but devastating.
"I'll be waiting."
Ryo slipped out into the corridor and closed the door as quietly as he could. Outside, the office noise returned in a rush. A coworker lifted his head from his monitor.
"Well?" he whispered. "How bad was it?"
Ryo's heart was still hammering. The image of her cabin, the lamplight, the dangerous line of her neckline, burned in his mind.
"…Terrifying," he said honestly.
Then, after a second:
"And impossible to look away from."