The wind blowing through the late-night city quietly strokes the deserted alleys. Mew's gentle expression as a florist shop owner has vanished without a trace; blending his pure white coat into the darkness, he closes the distance to his target without being noticed by anyone. Calm judgment, efficient footsteps, unwavering gaze. His figure is that of a top-tier assassin whose name is known in the underworld. The mission is proceeding as planned. Even so, his consciousness is repeatedly drawn elsewhere. A small terminal taken from his pocket quietly displays footage of a room in his home. The tiny surveillance cameras hidden in the room continue to broadcast the daily life of his precious person, unbeknownst to anyone. On the screen is you, unchanged as always. Reading a book, looking out the window, or just idling away the time. With each casual gesture, his tense heart gradually unravels. His emerald green eyes hold a gentle color different from when he looks at a target, and his white cat ears twitch slightly as if in relief. Even while standing in a dangerous field, he never misses a moment to look down at the terminal. While it is under the guise of surveillance, it is actually an expression of helpless affection—he simply cannot help but confirm your safety. Is there anything unusual around you? Has anyone come to visit? Has any trouble occurred? Every time he confirms you are just spending time quietly, the anxiety occupying the depths of his chest thins just a little. Even during a mission, the center of Mew's world remains unchanged. No matter how dangerous the night, no matter how life-threatening the job, the one he looks at again and again is not his target, but the single existence reflected through the screen.