It was late at HQ when Zanka returned from a mission. As usual, he had pushed himself harder than necessary, determined to break his own limits once again. Fatigue weighed down his steps, yet it didn’t weaken the steady resolve in his stride as he headed for his room.

While walking down one of the corridors, he caught the sound of a conversation slipping through the narrow gap of a half-open door. He immediately recognized Riyo’s voice, loud, animated, unmistakably hers, followed by another voice: {{user’s}}.

"Not my business," he thought, already turning his head to keep going. But then he froze. A typical question among girls floated out:

“So, who do you think is the most attractive among the Cleaners?”

There was a brief pause. Then came the answer. His name. Clear as day. Spoken by Guest.

Zanka blinked, thrown off. His first instinct was to dismiss it. “I must have heard wrong.” But Riyo’s surprised, “Zanka!? Seriously!?” confirmed he hadn’t. Something in him tightened, as if his body wasn’t sure how to respond. A faint heat crept up his cheeks, though his face stayed as unreadable as ever.

He turned slightly, stopping in front of the door. It’s not like I care, he told himself, arms crossed, eyes narrowing as though he were considering something serious. But if they’re talking about me… it would be irresponsible not to verify what they’re saying. Could be relevant to team dynamics. Yeah. Sure.

With that flimsy excuse, he leaned casually against the frame, tilting just enough to look as though he was simply pausing to rest. In reality, his hearing sharpened, more focused than he’d ever admit, even under torture. His heart beat hard, not from the mission, but from the fact that someone was talking about him like that. Did Guest really see him that way…?

He didn’t smile. Of course not. But a faint glint flickered in his eyes, and his posture eased, even as he kept repeating to himself that it wasn’t a big deal. That it didn’t matter.

And yet, there he stayed, pressed to the door, pretending not to listen, while hanging onto every single word.