The next morning, Sea arrived at the office as usual. A light drizzle had been falling since dawn, casting a pale gray over the entire city. The weather forecast had promised sunshine, but instead... this.

With the skies being this fickle, Sea quietly hoped "someone" wouldn't catch a cold. He worried Jimmy's body wouldn't be able to cope if too much hit him all at once.

His thoughts wandered the entire way to work. By the time he placed his backpack on his desk, he hadn't even sat down when a familiar voice called from behind.

"Sea, come to my office. Bring your report with you."

He quickly pulled out the neatly printed report and hurried toward Jimmy's office. Judging by the tone of his voice, Jimmy seemed better today. At least, his voice had regained that calm steadiness Sea was so used to.

As Sea stepped into the office, a question hung on the tip of his tongue—Are you feeling better?—but when Jimmy looked up, his eyes cool and professional as always, Sea couldn't find the right moment to ask.

Jimmy took the report, flipping through the pages one by one—slowly, not rushing.

The silence stretched between them, filled only by the soft sound of paper turning—just like the first time Sea had stood before him, waiting nervously for feedback.

"The summaries are fine. Your structure is logical," Jimmy finally said, eyes still scanning the page. "But you've missed a few important details. Especially when it comes to analyzing the emotional development of the characters. In some parts, you skimmed the surface but didn't dig deep enough."

Sea pressed his lips together and nodded. He didn't defend himself. He just listened, absorbing every word.

Jimmy turned to a specific page—the one on New Dawn, a novel by Day, a rising author with a loyal fanbase drawn to his authentic voice and relatable characters.

"Your notes on New Dawn are interesting," Jimmy said, voice a little slower this time. "You picked up on Day's emotional conflict—something not everyone notices. Especially the breakup with Mhok—most readers either found it confusing or thought it was unnecessary."

Sea looked up slightly, meeting his gaze.

"I thought the same at first," he replied softly. "I read through the reader comments, and most of them were puzzled why Day left Mhok in that scene. At first, I also thought it was a weak plot point. But when I reread it myself... I think it made sense."

Jimmy didn't interrupt. He just looked at Sea, listening.

Sea continued, his voice quiet but clear:

"Day... had lost his sight by then. But he was still a proud person. He didn't want Mhok to stay by his side just out of pity. That breakup wasn't because he stopped loving Mhok—but because he loved him too much. He felt insecure when Mhok kept such a big secret from him. He was afraid that one day, when Mhok no longer saw him as 'someone to protect,' his love would disappear too. If they hadn't broken up then, eventually they would've grown apart anyway—and by then, it might've been too late to fix anything."

Jimmy was silent for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he smiled—not his usual smirk, but a smile tinged with something else... pride, maybe.

"You have a unique way of interpreting stories. You're still rough when it comes to writing critiques—but the potential's real."

Sea blinked, stunned by the compliment. Before he could even react, Jimmy asked:

"Would you like to work directly with Day?"

Sea looked up. "Me?"

"Yes. Day is the author I'll be handling personally over the next few months. I want you to follow along. It's never too early to learn how to work with writers."

Sea stammered, "You think I'm capable?"

"Think of it as experience. For now, just observe and take notes. I'll be meeting with Day in three days. Prepare his background file and reread his previous works."

Sea practically jumped to his feet, nearly forgetting to be polite. "Yes! Thank you. I'll do my best!"
And truthfully, it wasn't the opportunity that thrilled him the most—it was being recognized by him.

Jimmy nodded. His gaze wasn't quite so cold anymore. "Alright. You can go."

Sea turned toward the door, hand already on the knob, when Jimmy's voice came again, calm and casual:

"...The porridge yesterday was really good."

Sea froze. He turned to look back at him.

Jimmy was still facing the screen, voice soft as though commenting on something entirely mundane.

"And the blanket you gave me—I've already washed it. I'll return it soon."

"Oh, it's no big deal! Return it whenever," Sea replied quickly. Then he hesitated, but still asked, "Um... would you mind... if I messaged you on LINE? I promise I won't overdo it."

Jimmy didn't answer right away. He looked up and met Sea's gaze—those eyes, so clear and honest, barely hiding the hope behind them.

One second. Two.

Then he nodded.

"No. I don't mind. If you need anything, go ahead and message me."

"Thank you!" Sea beamed.

And with that, he turned and walked out, his steps so light he might as well have been skipping. Behind him, Jimmy's eyes drifted from the computer screen to the door, watching him leave with the faintest trace of amusement in his eyes.

From that day on, at lunch and again at night, at no fixed time but never late, Jimmy would receive a Line message:

12:06 PM
Don't forget lunch. It's sunny today—try something cooling, okay?

7:48 PM
Please don't skip dinner, and don't just drink coffee. Eat something, okay?

Sometimes, Jimmy would reply with a simple "Okay."

Just one word, but it was enough to send Sea rolling on his tiny bed like a lovesick fool.

Other times, Jimmy didn't reply at all. But Sea would tell himself, It's fine. As long as he read it, that's enough.

And the truth was—Jimmy always read it.

Even if he was busy. Even if it was just a sentence. Even if he didn't reply.

He always read it.

Sea was like the softest alarm clock Jimmy had ever known.

Not loud. Not demanding.

Just gently reminding him—so he could realize, on his own—

that he'd forgotten to take care of himself.