The hum of the overhead lights was the only sound accompanying Ayaka now.
The hallway outside her office had long since gone quiet.
Her colleagues had all left hours ago, and even the usual late-night clatter of printers and copy machines had faded into silence.
But Ayaka remained—seated rigidly before her laptop, fingers poised but unmoving.
The screen glowed with a single line of dialogue. "If you keep looking at me like that, I might forget I'm supposed to stay away."
It wasn't the first time she'd tried to rewrite it.
Every time she started over, no matter how she changed the character's appearance, backstory, or tone—he always came back.
Akihiko.
Stoic.
Brilliant.
Frustrating.
Irreplaceable.
Ayaka clenched her jaw, slammed her laptop shut, and sighed sharply.
"This is ridiculous!" she muttered under her breath. "I shouldn't have agreed to this."
She stood and stretched, her shoulders stiff from hours of tension.
Her gaze flicked to the wall clock—it was well past 9 p.m.
The entire floor was deserted.
Daiki was probably at a bar by now, laughing about her stubbornness.
Makoto had texted earlier but she hadn't replied.
She didn't have the energy—not tonight.
Deciding to call it a day, Ayaka grabbed her coat and stepped into the hallway, the sound of her heels echoing loudly against the polished floors.
The silence was oppressive.
She pressed the elevator button and glanced at her phone while waiting, but a chill suddenly crawled up her spine.
She paused.
Her heart beat a little faster.
The hallway behind her remained empty, but she couldn't shake the strange sensation that someone—something—was watching her.
She turned quickly.
Nothing.
Still, the hairs on her arms rose.
Her instincts prickled.
The elevator dinged.
She stepped in, eager to leave, but just as the doors began to close, she swore she saw a shadow flicker across the floor.
A dark shape moving just beyond the glass wall at the end of the hallway.
She slammed the "close door" button repeatedly.
The elevator groaned and slowly descended.
By the time it reached the lobby, her hands were cold.
The security desk was dimly lit, manned by an older guard sipping from a thermos.
"Good evening, Miss Yamamoto." he greeted with a nod.
Ayaka hesitated, then walked up to him, lowering her voice. "Hey… can I ask you something?"
The guard blinked. "Sure."
"Is this building… haunted?"
The man didn't even blink. "Oh, yeah. Most definitely."
Ayaka stared at him. "Excuse me?!"
He nodded as if talking about the weather. "Used to be a hospital before the company bought it. Rumor is, a nurse hung herself in the stairwell after a scandal with a doctor. People say she still walks the halls on the seventh floor—yours, right?"
Ayaka backed away. "You're not serious."
"Dead serious." the guard said without irony. "No pun intended."
Ayaka didn't even respond.
She bolted.
The cool night air hit her like a slap when she pushed through the glass doors.
Her breath fogged in front of her, and her pulse still hadn't slowed.
"What the hell was that shadow?"
And that was when she saw him.
Leaning against a black car, dressed in a long dark coat, arms folded and head tilted—Akihiko.
His silver hair gleamed under the streetlight.
He was watching her with a calm expression, eyes unreadable but sharp.
Her mouth parted in surprise. "Akihiko?! What are you—?"
"Kei asked me to pick you up." he said coolly, pushing off the car. "He's still in surgery. Kai's stuck at the university."
Ayaka frowned. "You didn't have to. I could've called a cab."
"I know." he said smoothly. "But Kei insisted. He said you'd probably stay late and forget to eat."
She opened her mouth to respond, but he cut in first, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Why were you running out of the building like that?" he asked. "You looked pale."
Ayaka stiffened.
"Mind your own business!" she snapped quickly, brushing past him toward the passenger seat.
Akihiko raised an eyebrow but didn't push. He walked to the driver's side silently.
Inside the car, the silence thickened.
Ayaka stared out the window, but the lingering chill from the office wouldn't leave her.
Not just from the ghost story—but from the look in Akihiko's eyes when he asked about her running.
The quiet hum of the engine filled the space between them.
Ayaka sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the window, though her thoughts weren't on the passing city lights.
She was still trying to calm her racing heart—the eerie silence of the office, the sensation of being watched, the guard's grim story.
The ghost.
Akihiko, as always, drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely on the gearshift.
Calm.
Composed.
Unshaken.
He didn't say anything more about her running out of the building.
But she could feel his eyes flicker toward her now and then, like he was trying to figure her out.
Again.
"Stop staring." she muttered.
"I'm not." he replied flatly.
"You are."
He didn't deny it this time.
Just smirked slightly.
Ayaka sighed. The memory of that shadow on the seventh floor came rushing back.
When they finally pulled into the small lot near her apartment, she hesitated to get out of the car.
Akihiko raised a brow. "You're not moving."
Ayaka bit her lip, then glanced at him. "...Can you stay?"
His expression didn't change, but his gaze sharpened slightly. "Stay?"
She nodded quickly. "Just for a bit. Not the whole night. I mean—you can if you want—but I'm not saying—ugh, never mind." She groaned into her hands.
Akihiko leaned back slightly. "Why?"
Ayaka didn't respond right away.
He waited.
"I just… I don't want to be alone." she finally said, voice quieter now. "Because of the ghost."
He blinked.
"I knew it." He said, tone a touch smug. "You were running."
"Shut up!" she snapped, then added, "I'll tell you what happened back there if you agree to stay."
He tilted his head slightly. "Deal."
Inside her apartment, Ayaka quickly changed into an oversized hoodie and pajama shorts, then returned to find Akihiko already seated on the couch, jacket off, tie loosened.
He looked so natural there it was almost unfair—like he belonged.
She dropped onto the seat across from him and crossed her arms. "So. I was working late—trying to figure out this stupid character for the collaboration I never should've accepted—and everyone else had already gone home."
Akihiko nodded, waiting.
"I went out into the hallway to leave, and I swear… I felt like someone was following me. There was this weird shadow by the glass wall just before the elevator closed. Then the guard said the building used to be a hospital and a nurse hung herself after some affair and—" She stopped herself, hugging her knees.
"I know it sounds stupid."
"Not stupid." Akihiko said calmly.
She looked at him.
"I believe in ghosts."
Ayaka's eyes widened. "Seriously?"
He nodded. "There are plenty at the hospital."
Her mouth dropped open. "You're joking."
"No. One of the elevators is haunted. We don't use it past midnight."
"Akihiko!" she cried, hugging her knees tighter. "You're scaring me more!"
He didn't even blink. "You asked."
She narrowed her eyes. "No buts. Stay for the night. I'm not sleeping alone after that story."
He gave her a long look, then shrugged one shoulder. "Sure."
Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone and casually typed a message.
Ayaka squinted at the screen. "Are you texting Kei?"
"Mm-hmm." His fingers tapped quickly.
[to: Kei] there's a scaredy cat who asked if I can stay here in her apartment overnight
The reply came almost instantly.
Kei: "Good luck."
Akihiko smirked and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
Ayaka huffed. "You two are the worst."
"I haven't even started teasing you yet."
"Don't you dare."
But she was smiling now—just faintly. The fear was still there, lurking beneath her skin, but somehow… it was easier to bear with him beside her.
She stood. "You can take the guest room."
He followed her quietly as she pointed toward the second bedroom, but before he could step inside, she hesitated.
"If you see anything… ghost-like..." she muttered, "Don't tell me."
"Too late." he replied flatly.
"Akihiko!"
He chuckled softly. "I'm kidding."
He wasn't.
------
The television flickered with soft light across the living room walls, but neither of them was paying attention to the late-night movie playing in the background.
Ayaka had brought out a fluffy blanket and a tray of snacks, though most remained untouched.
She sat cross-legged on the floor, hair loosely tied, hugging a pillow to her chest.
Akihiko, now in a plain white T-shirt and sweatpants borrowed from her guest drawer, leaned against the far side of the couch with his arms folded, one ankle resting over his knee, looking impossibly at ease for someone else's home.
For a long while, neither spoke.
Ayaka let out a tired sigh. "I still can't get the character right. Every time I write, it feels wrong."
Akihiko tilted his head slightly. "What character?"
"N-nothing!" She looked away.
He blinked. "What?"
Ayaka looked at him from the corner of her eye, face flat. "He wanted a character like Akihiko from the romance novel... Brooding, sharp-tongued, emotionally unavailable male lead with silver hair and pretty blue eyes. I wonder who that sounds like."
He smirked. "Sounds like a brilliant character."
"Sounds like a pain in the ass." she muttered, throwing popcorns at him.
He caught it.
Then something caught his eye—something peeking out from under a stack of draft pages on the coffee table.
A folder.
Without a word, he reached out, picked it up, and flipped it open.
Ayaka's blood ran cold.
"Hey—!"
She reached to grab it, but he leaned back out of her reach, eyes narrowing as he scanned the contents.
A collaboration contract.
Between her and Makoto Miura.
Moonlight Sonata.
Akihiko didn't say anything for a few seconds, but Ayaka could feel the atmosphere shift like pressure before a storm.
He asked. "Did you sign it?"
She sat back down slowly and didn't answer.
He closed the folder. "Did you?"
"No." She answered.
"Why?" He asked again.
"Because I don't want to." she said plainly.
His gaze lingered on her, unreadable. "Do you want to sign it?"
Ayaka stiffened. "Can you stop asking too much? I'm trying to watch a movie!"
Silence stretched between them again.
The glow from the TV flickered across Akihiko's face, casting his expression in shadows and light, making it harder for her to read him.