NOYA

The chapter begins with a glimpse into Noya’s early days as an intern, filled with both nervous excitement and the suffocating weight of making a good impression. It was his first week at the company, and he had been assigned to the department overseen by Kyoshi, a young, sharp-eyed manager with a reputation for blending an easygoing attitude with unexpected bursts of brilliance. He already planned to be assigned to the department that kyoshi is in he already made a background check on kyoshi. The break room buzzed with morning chatter as Noya stood awkwardly by the counter,( it was his first time working with people again he was hospitalized and getting ready to socialize again) clutching a folder, his palms damp with sweat.He was very nervous and tense even though the plan was to get closer to kyoshi and protect him he was still getting used to the environment.

And then suddenly

Kyoshi burst into the room with a grin, balancing two cups of coffee in one hand and an overflowing pile of reports in the other.(He recognized the face of the intern.)He navigated the space with the swagger of someone who owned it—until his foot caught on the leg of a chair. Time seemed to freeze as papers scattered into a white whirlwind and one coffee cup somersaulted, landing directly on Noya’s shoes.

“Well, that’s one way to break the ice!” Kyoshi said with a laugh, breaking into a scramble to collect the mess. Noya’s eyes widened as he stooped to help, the sting of embarrassment rising to his cheeks. He muttered an apology under his breath, but Kyoshi waved it off with a grin.

“Don’t just mutter, intern! If you’re gonna help, at least pretend to be confident,” Kyoshi teased, a playful glint in his eyes. For the first time that week, Noya found himself smiling, the tension melting away.

Their bond grew from there, marked by small, unexpected moments. Kyoshi would drag Noya out for ramen after long, exhausting shifts, declaring it an initiation into surviving the corporate grind. On late evenings, they’d watch atrociously bad B-movies in the conference room, Kyoshi’s laughter echoing louder than the dialogue, his easy charisma infectious. During moments of doubt, Kyoshi would slap Noya on the back and say, “Remember, the ones who break don’t stay long enough to win.” The words, half-joking yet serious, fueled Noya’s determination.

But as time passed, the undercurrent of Noya’s true mission never wavered. He documented every shady deal his cousins made, building a dossier thick with evidence. As he laughed and shared stories with Kyoshi, guilt gnawed at him—a reminder that the friend who’d saved him from his own uncertainty was tied to a tragedy that Noya could never forget.

The story shifts to Noya’s calculated pursuit of retribution. He threw himself into the corporate world, enduring sleepless nights and long, grueling hours as he infiltrated his cousins’ trust. He played the game they valued most: power and profit. Meeting after meeting, deal after deal, he maneuvered with precision, unraveling their empire piece by piece. Every sly smirk they cast his way only deepened his resolve, fueling the controlled storm within him.

One evening, as the city hummed under a blanket of stars, Noya leaned back in his office chair, staring at the skyline that glistened like shards of glass. His phone buzzed with the news: his cousins had declared bankruptcy. Their empire, a monolith built on greed and the suffering of others, had finally collapsed. Noya’s eyes reflected the glow of his success, but the sensation was hollow, a victory soured by time and silence.

Years passed in the relentless flow of life. The scene transitions to an older Noya, shoulders bent under the weight of years, standing outside a hospital room. The fluorescent lights above him hummed like whispers of regrets. Each step into the room felt heavier, a march toward something inevitable.

Kyoshi lay on the bed, eyes closed, a peaceful stillness about him that cut through Noya like a knife. The beep of monitors was absent, and the realization hit him all at once. Noya’s legs gave way as he fell beside the bed, hands trembling.

“Kyoshi,” he choked, tears streaming unbidden. The apology he’d rehearsed for years clawed up his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice splintered by sorrow. The room, bathed in the soft, dying light of dusk, seemed to hold its breath.

The flashback ends as Kyoshi, now older but still sharp, opens his eyes and sees an aged Noya slowly walking toward him. Noya’s face was etched with the weight of time and remorse. Without a word, Noya hugged Kyoshi, the embrace trembling with unspoken apologies.

“Will you forgive me?” Noya’s voice quivered, barely above a whisper.

Kyoshi managed a tired smile, his eyes softening. “Yes,” he said, the word laced with an understanding forged over decades.

A pause settled between them before Kyoshi, eyes glistening with a knowing look, asked, “Is it my time yet?”

The question lingered in the air, unanswered, as the chapter ended on a haunting cliffhanger.

Chapter end