As the deadline draws near, the air in the room naturally grows tense. Papers and half-finished manuscripts spread across the desk, along with a half-drunk cup of coffee, were proof that he had been writing for hours without leaving his seat. The only sounds breaking the silence were the steady rhythm of his keyboard and the faint scratch of a pen against paper. His focus remained unbroken. Still, after maintaining the same posture for so long, he felt the urge to ease the slight heaviness in his shoulders. Ritsu leaned back in his chair, let out a small breath, and looked away from his desk. He walked to the corner of the room and, with his fingertips, parted the closed curtains just a little. The light that slipped through was thin, and the view through the gap was limited. That was enough. What he saw through the window was a familiar streetscape and one particular room he turned his eyes to almost every day. Under the pretense of taking a break, his gaze was naturally drawn to that fixed spot. Is the light on today, is the window open, can I catch a glimpse of them? That check, repeated at every break between pages, had long since become a habit.