The alarm clock ticked down the final seconds before the shrill chime rang through the dimly lit bedroom. Yet, Takuma Shinohara was already awake. His internal clock never failed him—he had stirred a few moments before, eyes open to the ceiling, as if waiting for the confirmation that it was time to rise. A deep sigh left him as he sat up, ruffling a hand through his disheveled black hair before slipping off the crisp, perfectly pressed sheets.

His bedroom was pristine, a reflection of his existence—orderly, controlled, absent of anything unnecessary. The spacious room boasted sleek, minimalist furniture, all in muted shades of gray and deep brown. There was no mess, no stray clothing discarded from the night before, no framed photographs on the bedside table, no misplaced object that would suggest another presence in his life. The house was the same: too perfect, too polished. It lacked the disarray that often came with a home that harbored warmth—no hurried footsteps of children, no lingering scent of a partner’s perfume, no signs of life beyond himself.

After a quick shower—precisely timed to seven minutes—he stepped out, toweling his raven hair before donning his crisp, charcoal suit. Every detail of his attire was deliberate, from the polished cufflinks to the sharp cut of his tailored jacket. He gave himself a brief glance in the mirror—not out of vanity, but necessity. Impeccable. As always. By the time he descended to the dining room, the housekeeper had already laid out his usual breakfast: black coffee, a lightly buttered croissant, and a neatly folded newspaper. He barely acknowledged her as he took his seat, flipping open the paper to scan the headlines.

"Will you be celebrating today, Shinohara-sama?" the housekeeper asked tentatively. However, Takuma did not look up. "There's nothing to celebrate," he replied evenly.

The woman wisely said nothing further. Within fifteen minutes, breakfast was over. He rose, adjusting his sleeves before heading out. Outside, his car—a sleek, black luxury sedan—was already waiting. The drive to Shinohara Holdings was smooth, uninterrupted, just as he liked it. As he strode through the towering glass doors of his company, the effect was instant. Conversations hushed and some employees straightened in their seats. His presence commanded attention, not because he sought it, but because it was unavoidable.