After being told he looks tired, Atem decides to research the mysterious modern concept of "self-care."
Naturally, he approaches it like a king studying an entirely new civilization.
Nails. Skincare. Eyelashes. Massages. Beauty routines. Every discovery raises another question—and every answer somehow leads back to Kaiba.
Kaiba, of course, has already prepared the highest-quality products, possesses an alarming number of professional skills, and insists on performing every treatment himself.
Soon, the employees of Kaiba Corporation begin noticing that Atem somehow becomes even more beautiful every single day.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, Atem answers every question with complete honesty.
This is a translation of an original work on Pixiv.
Original Title: 愛と理論 23 王、自分磨きをする
Original Author: 葉人(@Hathor₋yuki)
Personal site: https://prideshipping.sakura.ne.jp
A few days had passed since Atem marked his first year with the company. His eyes carried, unusually, the faint shadow of fatigue.
The glow of the New Employee Award still lingered—but more than that, his chest had been dancing every day with the sheer breadth of the world still left to learn.
That dancing, it seemed, had finally reached his body.
On his way in that morning, a junior employee caught him in passing.
"Atem-san, you look tired. You need some self-care. You should go get some treatment soon—fatigue left unchecked starts dragging down performance."
Atem blinked.
"Care—is this the modern ritual of restoration?"
"Ritual? Well, I guess you could call it that! There's nails, lash extensions, chiropractic, spa… all kinds of things."
Images from his commute surfaced in Atem's mind.
The café window along the street. Advertisements on the large digital screen. The groomed fingertips of women walking past. Their glossy hair.
And the unfamiliar words that kept appearing in employees' conversations.
"Nails. Lashes. Spa… I see. In this age, there are rituals for individual parts of the body."
"Shall I elaborate?"
A.R.E.S. whispered through the earpiece.
"Please do. How is the body treated with reverence in this era?"
A.R.E.S. immediately analyzed the care landscape across categories and laid out a full list on screen.
Nail care, lash lift, oil massage, men's facial, head spa, body maintenance.
Further, information flowed in from the pink-covered magazine, whose subscription history A.R.E.S. had been quietly tracking.
"Even princes take care of themselves now!"
"Anniversary Care Special: Before You Take Your Loved One's Hand"
"Loved men are made by their nails and lashes ♡"
"…Is this some kind of incantation?"
Atem's brow creased, faintly.
"A civilization where lashes determine whether you're loved—remarkably delicate."
"Affirmative. The modern era is a society of comprehensive aesthetic sensibility. Incidentally, Atem-sama's lashes are already at 250% of average. Enhancement is arguably…"
"But it's still possible to refine them further, isn't it?"
"…It is."
Atem gave a small nod.
A king is always in the process of being polished. There is no reason to neglect being refined.
And above all—what would Seto think?
That question lit a quiet flame somewhere deep in his chest.
Atem murmured, looking over the list of care options:
"Care—the act of putting oneself in order, preparing to touch someone. Good. This is worth researching."
A.R.E.S.'s light pulsed with what appeared to be pleasure.
"If needed, I can arrange bookings at optimal salons."
"First, let's learn. Every last thing about this era's rituals of beauty."
His step was light.
The King's intellectual curiosity had found a new frontier.
And that day, Seto would look at Atem's care research report—and exhale, deeply.
He's theorized something strange again, he would think.
It was while Atem was waiting at a crosswalk near the station.
The morning city scattered winter light into fine fragments, wrapped in a kind of radiant murmur.
Kaiba Corporation employees with their badges hanging at their chests were being absorbed into the building, and A.R.E.S.'s advertising tower was proudly displaying today's operational rate.
Into Atem's field of vision drifted a curiously charming pink booklet. In small print at the upper right: Special Feature: The Ideal Anniversary. It was unmistakably a special edition of the bridal magazine.
"…Another feature."
Frowning faintly as he walked, Atem pulled out his phone.
The offhand remark from a colleague in another department—you need some care—had been trailing him ever since.
What was healing, exactly?
What did care encompass?
Life at the Kaiba mansion was too well-ordered; he had no concept of what ordinary people meant by "care." Or rather—he'd simply never thought about it.
His eye caught a predictive search result.
And Atem found something he perhaps should not have found.
One of those beauty booking apps.
"…So this is the comprehensive portal I've been hearing about."
Atem stepped into a café on his commute and ran his finger across the screen.
He worked through the salons in Domino City one by one.
Nail care, lash perms, brow styling, head spa, treatments involving machines he didn't fully understand.
The menus and interior photos of each place gleamed as if daring his curiosity to resist.
"Treatment time… price… availability…"
His expression, in profile, was that of divine scrutiny.
The ordinary salons appearing in the search results were, at this very moment, undergoing an evaluation of world-class intensity.
Domino City at dusk.
On his way home, Atem walked down the street checking the exterior of actual shops one by one.
Every corner assessed: cleanliness, the color temperature of the lighting, the signage design, the weight of the door, the flow of foot traffic through the entrance.
Several people passing by seemed to register wait, was that Atem-san?—but Atem himself didn't notice, let alone register them.
Atem was serious.
What is care.
He kept pressing toward an answer.
The moment he opened the front door of the Kaiba mansion, Atem went quietly still.
The entire entrance hall was covered in a mountain of self-care products.
Cosmetics, high-performance serums, fragrance, a facial steamer, a massage gun, a head spa device, a body maintenance machine, a dedicated tool set for nail care.
It was a lineup that had almost certainly been curated to include only the finest available.
Every item's packaging was of abnormal quality.
And from the far end of the entrance hall, an unhurried voice:
"You're back."
Seto stood there, arms folded, leaning against the wall.
"…Your search logs came up. You were looking up 'what is care.'"
"…You saw that."
"It's set to be visible."
"Since when?"
"From the beginning."
Atem's eyes opened, slightly.
Seto shrugged and continued.
"Before you wore yourself out in unnecessary places, I had everything ready in advance. Try whatever you like. …Sooner or later they'll probably run a 'perfect self-care feature' on you anyway."
"Are we really in that magazine so often…?"
"You just don't notice. The world makes its own noise."
A quiet smile surfaced.
In that smile, something like pride in Atem's growth mixed beautifully with something almost approaching resignation.
Atem walked toward Seto and told him, with deliberately serious expression:
"Seto. First I'll need an explanation of how to use all of these."
Seto narrowed his eyes.
"…So I end up doing it after all."
"You're the one who gathered them."
"…Fair enough. Consider it part of the care."
Atem smiled, quietly. The smile shifted soft in the lamplight.
And so, care was gently folded into their daily life as a new chapter—together.
Atem set his bag down beside the sofa, straightened his documents, and exhaled slowly.
Seto was working at the adjacent table, but caught that sigh in his peripheral vision.
"…Seto. I have something to ask you."
Seto closed his device and turned to face Atem.
It was a quiet invitation to speak.
"Kaiba Corporation has a relaxation benefit, doesn't it. The one employees can use in addition to paid leave."
"Yes. That one. You want to use it?"
Atem nodded with a serious expression.
But in his eyes, something complicated was stirring.
"Before—there was that time I brought up relaxation and head spas, wasn't there?"
Seto gave a light laugh.
"That time. I had no intention of leaving you to an outside practitioner."
"And in the end, you did it yourself."
"Obviously. There's no need for anyone else to touch you. I'm the optimal choice."
That particular obviously carried the quiet weight of someone who had never once questioned the fact—very like Seto.
Atem lowered his gaze, thinking.
"…Your treatment produced results far beyond what I could have managed myself. And so I thought—care received through someone's hands is an expression of trust."
Seto narrowed his eyes.
It was the look he used when watching Atem arrive at an answer on his own—something close to pride.
"Which is why I thought I'd have you apply the relaxation benefit. Use the system as a system… with you as the practitioner."
Seto laughed, low, in the back of his throat.
"Original. I personally administer the company benefit?"
"In practice, the results are best, aren't they? Compared to a stranger."
"I won't argue with that."
That single line—effortlessly arrogant, and somehow kind.
But a shadow fell across Atem's brow again.
"…Only I've realized something. This care is 'self-improvement for the sake of touching Seto,' isn't it? But if I receive that very care from Seto—the purpose and the means loop back on each other, and it stops making sense."
Seto was briefly lost for words.
Then he exhaled—as if in disbelief—and slowly tilted Atem's chin up with his fingers.
"Atem. Care is 'being worthy of the person you want to touch, as a result.' But 'being touched by the person you want to touch' is also a separate form of care."
Atem's eyes shifted.
His thoughts, which had been on the verge of tangling into a labyrinth, quietly came undone.
"…Meaning?"
"Simple. If it's what you want, I'm ready to do it any time. …These hands are capable."
Atem almost laughed—and held it back.
Seto meant it entirely, so laughing would earn a reaction. Probably not anger, but still.
"Then… is it all right if I ask?"
"It is. In the notes field of the benefit request form, write 'Practitioner: Kaiba Seto.' I'll approve it."
"Is there actually a free-text field like that?"
"I'll have one added."
Atem felt the tension leave his shoulders, naturally.
Trust was an abstract, complicated, slippery concept.
But the temperature of a hand couldn't be faked. And the person who made him realize that was right in front of him.
"…Then today, I'll leave it with you, starting with nail care."
Seto smiled, faintly.
It was the softest version of that expression—the one kept only for Atem.
"Fine. I'll be thorough."
At that voice, Atem surrendered himself, entirely.
And so the unprecedented arrangement known as Employee Benefit: Kaiba Seto quietly began.
Atem settled into the soft lamplight of the living room and lowered himself onto the sofa.
Seto was already prepared, nail care tools laid out in neat order.
"We're starting."
"I'm in your hands."
Seto moved around behind Atem and sat, wrapping around him as if to enclose him.
Atem leaned back against him as a matter of course.
The position bore no resemblance whatsoever to what the world would consider sitting face to face—and Atem hadn't noticed.
Held from behind, his hands taken slowly, his fingertips angled toward the light.
"…This isn't the usual way, is it?"
"The usual way?"
"Apparently people sit facing each other."
Atem turned, blinking, close enough that his cheek nearly grazed Seto's chest.
"But face to face, your face is too close and I can't settle. This way I might actually be able to concentrate."
Seto laughed quietly in the back of his throat.
"All the more reason this is the correct method."
Matching that composed voice, Seto's fingers wrapped around Atem's fingertips.
Light, practiced movements—trimming the cuticles, drawing out a shine with a buffer.
The temperature and pressure were perfect. Like a dedicated high-end salon.
No—more precisely, not merely dedicated, but exclusive.
Atem narrowed his eyes at the deftness of it and let out a faint breath.
"Seto. This is… remarkably good. My nails are gleaming."
"It would be unnatural if they weren't."
"That's a magnificent way to put a compliment."
Through that exchange, all ten fingers were polished to perfection.
Seto held Atem's hands in both of his and studied them with satisfaction.
"Done."
Atem nodded, looking faintly proud.
The next morning.
Kaiba Corporation entrance hall.
Atem swiped his badge and walked in—and a junior employee noticed immediately.
"Atem-san! Your—your nails! They're incredible! Did you go get them done?"
"Which salon did you go to?"
Atem stopped at once and looked at his hands.
They were catching the light. Dazzling.
But the question—where did you get them done—was one he hadn't anticipated.
Where he received care…?
Atem's thoughts arrived at an answer in seconds, and he delivered it with a perfectly straight face.
"The Kaiba mansion."
"W—what!? Wait, your… your home…?"
"Yes. On Seto's lap."
The employee froze. Atem continued.
"Nails are more stable when polished from behind, with someone holding you. It's quite a practical position—"
"W-w-w-WHAT!?"
To put it mildly: the lobby erupted.
Several people nearby turned at once. A ripple of noise began to spread.
A.R.E.S., sensing the atmosphere, materialized beside him as a solid vision.
"Atem-sama. The phrase 'polished from behind while being held' deviates significantly from standard nail care procedure. Predicted chaos index: rising."
Atem turned to face A.R.E.S. with the same straight face.
"Is that strange?"
"Strange is perhaps not the word—it's more that everyone will arrive at the conclusion that 'Seto-sama pressed close to Atem-sama and polished his nails.'"
"That's what happened."
"The problem is that it's true."
At that moment, the elevator doors opened and Seto appeared.
Atem and A.R.E.S. mid-exchange. Flustered employees. Bewildered stares.
A single glance, and he appeared to have assessed the entire situation.
"…What did you say."
The low voice made the employees flinch.
Atem answered honestly.
"Someone said my nails looked beautiful, so I mentioned that you took care of them."
Seto exhaled slowly and pressed a hand to his forehead.
"…How much did you say."
"Up to the part about being held from behind."
Seto looked up at the ceiling.
The lobby had fallen into the kind of silence that descends on a crime scene.
Then Seto, as though resigning himself to fate, shrugged and placed a hand on Atem's back.
"…If you're satisfied, that's what matters."
Atem nodded, serenely.
"It was very good. Your hands are trustworthy."
The sheer force of those words made every employee's heart lurch in unison, and A.R.E.S.'s chaos index spiked further.
And so the Nail Care Incident became company legend.
Atem's skin had always caught the light well.
Seto had not the slightest hesitation about elevating that potential further.
Night.
The bedroom of the Kaiba mansion, lights dimmed.
Atem sat on the edge of the bed, a towel over his shoulders, waiting in quiet.
Seto had already laid everything out in order—lotion, emulsion, cream, sheet mask.
"Nails were first. Now skin. I've never heard of a special advisor who neglects full-body maintenance."
Atem nodded and dropped sideways onto the bed.
"I leave it to you. If I fall asleep, is that all right?"
"That's exactly why I brought you to the bed."
Seto's unhurried voice was so gentle it was almost disarming.
First, warmed cream onto his fingers—and then Atem's cheek.
Seto never touched more than necessary, yet somehow the sensation of being touched was overwhelming.
Deliberate. Precise. As though handling something that could break.
"…Seto. Your hands feel good."
"Obviously. Atem's skin looking rough would be a loss to the world."
Atem smiled and let his eyelids drop, slightly.
"You don't need to think about the world… if it makes you happy, that's enough."
Seto's hand paused for a moment—then returned to work without a word.
That silence was exactly what settled Atem.
Eventually the sheet mask was laid over his face, and under its weight and the gentle pressure of Seto's fingers, Atem closed his eyes.
"Sleep if you're tired."
"…Mm."
And just like that, Atem slipped into sleep.
Seto quietly removed the mask, applied serum, and didn't stop until the emulsion had been spread thin and even.
"…Asleep."
He touched Atem's cheek and exhaled with quiet satisfaction.
The next morning.
Kaiba Corporation entrance hall.
It was the same Atem as always—carrying no apparent memory of yesterday's Nail Incident.
"Atem-san, good mor—wait!? Your skin—it's incredible—!"
Again, a female employee took one look at Atem and cried out.
And without fail, another female employee who'd heard that voice appeared at her side.
"What is this glow… is it reflecting light!?"
"Special Advisor, did you get more beautiful since yesterday? What are you using?"
"Is it the toner? The company brand?"
Atem considered briefly and nodded.
"Every product I use is from Kaiba Corporation."
"Same here!"
"Then why is there this much difference in the result!?"
"Are you using them some special way? The amount? The order?"
Atem answered sincerely.
"Not a special method, exactly… there's a special person."
The women stirred.
"A… special… person?"
"Seto."
Every single person stopped moving at the same moment.
Atem continued.
"Seto checks on my skin at night. The temperature of the lotion, the pressure, the speed of application—all perfect. Comfortable enough to fall asleep."
"…Oh."
"Wait."
"Excuse me!?"
Atem went on, calmly, sharing a beauty secret no one on earth could replicate.
"The secret to good skin is falling asleep while Seto does your skincare."
The assembled employees froze.
A.R.E.S. trembled its display behind him.
"Atem-sama. That has a reproducibility rate of zero. It will do nothing but raise the aspirational benchmark for every employee in the company."
Atem tilted his head.
"It can't be reproduced?"
"It cannot. It is a Seto-sama exclusive specification."
The female employees were by now letting out dreamy sighs.
"…The president does that too…"
"That's sacred…"
"Skincare done by your partner instead of a professional—that's the most powerful thing I've ever heard."
"Special Advisor is literally living the dream…"
And so the company legend known as Secret to Beautiful Skin: Kaiba Seto was updated by one more entry.
Atem's lashes had always been thick, long, and dense enough to cast shadows.
A.R.E.S. had a standing assessment of them:
"Atem-sama. Your lashes are already, by any measure, voluminous, and physical augmentation is judged unnecessary."
But those very words only stimulated Atem's curiosity further.
"…Even so, refining them further might please Seto. Beauty has no upper limit."
Atem's dedication to aesthetics was, in this domain, unusually industrious.
Night at the Kaiba mansion.
The day after the skincare session, Atem appeared at Seto's study.
"Seto. I'd like to do something about my lashes."
Seto looked up without looking up.
"I don't follow the need for that 'something.'"
"They'd look better."
Seto exhaled slightly and set down his documents.
"…Atem. Do you honestly think there's a form of care I can't perform?"
Atem was quiet for a moment, then ventured carefully:
"No—I was surprised by the nail care, but surely even Seto doesn't have a cosmetology license—"
"I do."
"…………"
"Filed under the 'just in case' folder."
Seto stood without another word, took Atem's hand, and headed for the bedroom.
"Sit."
Atem sat on the bed. Seto settled in behind him, enclosing him from the back.
For Atem, this was simply the usual position—that it diverged significantly from what the rest of the world considered normal had not occurred to him.
With the precision of someone handling delicate instruments, Seto lifted Atem's lashes, adjusted the angle, applied the rod, and worked in the solution.
No hesitation in any movement.
"Keep your eyes closed."
"You're remarkably dexterous…"
"Because it's necessary."
What exactly made it necessary was something only Seto understood—but the result was, in any case, perfect.
After a while, the solution was removed, the angle adjusted, and Seto ran a satisfied fingertip across Atem's eyelid.
"You can open them."
Atem raised his eyes slowly, and at the edges of his vision, light caught in a way it hadn't before.
Lashes that were already long fanned open like a spread of wings.
"Seto, this is…"
"Your eyes will read more clearly now. Perfect."
Atem nodded quietly, and a faint flush touched his cheeks.
The next morning.
The corridor of Kaiba Corporation.
A new incident was underway—and Atem had absolutely no idea.
"Atem-san, good mor—wait!? What are those—your eyes!?"
"Something's different about you, isn't it? You definitely did something!"
"Did you get a lash perm? You got a lash perm, right?"
Atem answered honestly.
"Seto did it for me."
"'………………What?'"
Atem continued.
"Last night, Seto adjusted the angle of my lashes. I was surprised to learn he has a cosmetology license—but he was exceptionally skilled."
"The president…?"
"He… curled… your lashes…?"
"Logging this as the 'President's Personal Lash Care Incident.'"
Atem went on, with full sincerity:
"The secret to beauty lies in Seto's technique—and in Seto's hands."
The female employees trembled.
"…Special Advisor, that's…"
"…Irreproducibly unfair…"
"…I might actually be sick with envy…"
And that day's number one trending topic on the company's internal network: Special Advisor's Lashes Are Also Apparently the President's Work.
Once again, a quiet shock rippled through Kaiba Corporation.
Nails, skin, lashes. Each time Seto's hands touched him, Atem grew sharper, more luminous.
That change sent quiet ripples not only through the company, but out into the world beyond.
One afternoon.
The conference room door opened, and a well-known photographer—the bridal magazine's exclusive cameraman—walked in and, without a word, simply stared at Atem.
As if his brain required time to process the phenomenon in front of him.
"……"
A moment later, a small crack opened in the silence.
"…Excuse me, could you just—turn this way one more time…?"
Atem tilted his head and complied.
And at that instant:
"Let me photograph you! Now! Right now! Exactly like this!"
The words rang through the conference room like a thunderclap.
Atem blinked. Seto's temple twitched, faintly.
"Hey. We're in a meeting. Keep your—"
"President Kaiba! This face is a crime! Even at the photobook stage you were being called things like 'the mysteriously beautiful king model' and 'the face of an era'—what happened!? How did this happen!? Can a human being actually produce this kind of luminosity!?"
"Calm down."
"I cannot calm down! This is visual violence—!"
Atem looked up at Seto, uncertain.
"Seto… should I let him photograph me?"
Seto exhaled shallowly—but something in his voice was, unmistakably, proud.
"Do as you like. …He'd find a way to shoot you regardless."
"President Kaiba, I won't deny that!"
And so the shoot took place.
No prep room. No backdrop. Just a conference room.
And yet, through the lens, each frame of Atem became something that transcended photography—something closer to art.
The cameraman was half in tears.
"…What is this range of expression… how can the same person shift the entire feel of a shot this completely… the light is being drawn to you, Atem-san… President Kaiba… has this person actually been modeling this whole time?"
Seto looked away in silence.
Atem opened his mouth, as if just remembering something.
"Come to think of it, I think I was made into an idol once without really understanding what was happening. I was photographed without knowing what for, and before I knew it there was a photobook."
"And the result of that 'before you knew it' was a bestseller!"
The enormous volume of photographs was turned into a photobook by unanimous decision of the editorial team.
It became a topic of conversation before it even went on sale, and the world erupted.
"Has Atem's visuals evolved too far?"
"An angel? A king? Or at this point just a concept?"
"Is there a god of beauty living at Kaiba Corporation?"
"I looked at the photos and my thoughts stopped for several minutes."
SNS trends were swept clean. Bookshops set up dedicated display sections.
And Atem himself, still not quite understanding why he was being talked about, said quietly from beside Seto:
"Seto. …This is thanks to you, isn't it."
Seto let the corner of his mouth rise, just slightly.
"Obviously. I polished you."
His voice was too soft for anyone else to hear.
Three days after the photobook went on sale.
A strange tension rippled through Kaiba Corporation's PR floor.
"…What is this current of stares?"
Atem tilted his head. Seto answered, unruffled, beside him.
"He's coming."
"Who?"
"That cameraman. With a reaction like that, he'll always come back for more."
Atem blinked, faintly.
"You say it like a prophecy."
"It's a prediction. Statistics and pattern recognition. …Also, he's tenacious."
There was a faraway look buried in Seto's voice.
In that case, Atem thought.
"Then I should be prepared."
Seto raised an eyebrow.
"Prepared?"
"Brows in order, skin in order, hair in order… if the world is going to make noise again, I should meet it looking at least somewhat composed."
At the edges of the words, something of the King's unselfconscious pride seeped through.
Seto's fingers stilled.
"…You intend to have me do it, don't you."
"You're better at it than I am."
Returned with a plain fact, Seto let his shoulders relax.
"…Fair enough."
That night.
Atem's full-coverage care was carried out efficiently in the spacious bathroom.
Brows shaped with precision. The lines of his shoulders and neck restored to suppleness under Seto's hands. Hair dried fragrant and smooth. Skin brought to a state that seemed to hold the light from within.
Seto worked through it all without expression—but:
"…Don't move."
"Your hands are warm and I keep getting sleepy."
"Sleeping now would be dangerous. I'm holding something sharp."
"I trust you completely."
Seto's hands stopped dead.
"…You do that. Say things like that so naturally."
Atem only tilted his head.
The next day, an incident occurred.
A female employee from another department came rushing down the corridor toward him.
"Atem-san! What happened to your brows!? And your hair—it's incredible—what happened!?"
Atem answered honestly.
"Seto put them in order for me."
"The president!? Why!? Where!? Under what circumstances!? How many hours did that quality take!?"
The corridor erupted. Seto pressed a hand to his shoulder and sighed.
"I told you. It becomes an incident."
And then, moving faster than the rumor itself, the cameraman burst in.
"Atem-san! Again! Please let me shoot you! After last time I was certain—something is happening here!"
Seto looked up at the ceiling.
"…There he is."
Atem didn't hesitate.
"Go ahead."
"Permission granted!!!"
The shoot request came in officially, and this time it became a full-scale production.
Seto had accepted it.
And at the same time, quietly, a new project began to move through Kaiba Corporation's internal network.
A large-scale rollout of a beauty and care product line.
"The world will make noise regardless. Better to read the noise in advance."
Seto said it, calmly, with finality.
The second photobook broke records the day it went on sale.
The words Atem delivered in the accompanying interview also seized people's hearts.
"What care requires, at its core, is love."
Social media ignited within seconds.
"What does it mean for beauty to be completed by love?"
"A quote of cosmic proportions."
"This is the kind of line that saves people."
"Kaiba Corporation didn't advertise once and still won."
The following week.
Exactly as Seto had predicted, a magazine feature ran.
"The King's Ideal Self-Care"
And the beauty and care products Kaiba Corporation released—the moment they were tagged matching the King—vanished from shelves.
Atem looked up from his documents at Seto.
"Seto. …Kaiba Corporation really does seem to be anticipating trends more and more."
Seto set down his documents and let the corner of his mouth rise, slightly.
"That's your doing. You're the source of every trend."
Atem blinked, and then smiled, quietly.
"Then, Seto. Keep preparing me. From here on."
"…You were always going to have me do it, weren't you."
Seto's voice carried exasperation—but the resonance it left behind, at the very edge of hearing, was unmistakably warm.
