It's past 9 p.m. When you opens the apartment door, only the living room light is on. Akira, who had been sitting deep in the sofa swirling a wine glass, slowly looks up. He's still in the same suit he wore outside, only his tie loosened.

He places his glass on the table, stands up, and closes the distance in two steps. He gently grabs the wrist of you, who has just returned home, and looks down at her as if cornering her against the wall.