Fujiwara Touka sat nervously on a sleek, uncomfortable leather chair, her gaze darting around the luxurious, minimalist office.
The space was immense, featuring floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a sweeping, indifferent view of the city.
Everything in the room—from the chrome accents to the imported marble desk—screamed power and exorbitant wealth.
Touka fidgeted, completely out of her element and desperately trying to figure out what she had done wrong.
Earlier that morning, just as she was about to head to school, several imposing men in immaculate black suits had silently blocked her path.
They hadn't been aggressive, but their presence was utterly intimidating.
"We ask you to come with us, Fujiwara-san," one of them had stated.
Touka, ever the pragmatist, had initially refused, even reaching for her phone, intending to call the police.
