The Gala of Glitter & Guts

Akio tugged at the cuffs of his suit jacket. Again, and again. He couldn’t stop. Everything itched.

The venue was downright opulent: crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over tables draped in ivory linens, and a string quartet played softly from one corner. Around them, people glided in and out of polished conversations, swirling champagne and words like “synergy” and “forward momentum.”

By any measure, this was the fanciest work event Akio had ever attended. And having Amaya and Naomi here, dressed to kill, no less, was a surreal collision of his worlds.

He hovered near the entrance with them and Shinji, heart thudding hard enough he worried the HR table might hear it. Just stick to the plan, he told himself. Smile, introduce them politely, no embarrassing stories, and survive the night.

A gentle tap on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts. He turned to find Amaya looking up at him, concern knitting between her brows. “You okay? You’ve gone quiet.”

“Yeah,” he managed, forcing a smile. “Just… a little overwhelmed.”

Amaya tilted her head, not buying it, but she didn’t push.

“Ah, Hosonuma-san!”

Akio flinched.

He turned to see a familiar, wiry figure in a too-shiny suit. He was weaving through the crowd with the overconfident stride of someone who has survived three performance reviews with no actual achievements.

It was Narisawa-kun.

Ugh.

Akio hadn’t thought about the fact that he would run into his old team members here.

Narisawa’s smile was all polished teeth and self-importance.

“I see you brought company!” he said, voice dripping with oily cheer. “You going to introduce us, or are you keeping these beautiful ladies all to yourself?”

And so it begins.

Akio gritted his teeth behind a tight smile. “This is Naomi and this is Amaya, friends of mine. And this is Narisawa-kun, we worked together at the Uji branch.”

Narisawa gave a smug little bow. “Pleasure to meet you both.”

Amaya’s eyes sparkled.

That was never a good sign.

“Oh, you’re from Uji?” she said sweetly, clasping her hands like a curious schoolgirl. “What do you do there?”

Akio didn’t need to look to know the exact expression she was making. Wide eyes. Tilted head. Pure innocence.

Like a kitten.

Holding a lit match.

Narisawa straightened, puffing up like a proud little pufferfish.

“Well, it’s an easier question to ask what I don’t do,” he chuckled. “I’m mainly leading strategic implementation initiatives across cross-functional teams. A lot of high-level coordination, stakeholder interfacing, that sort of thing. Managing synergy pipelines. Agile frameworks. You know how it is.”

Akio blinked. Slowly.

He once CC’d the CEO on an email where he misspelled “strategy” five times, attached something called “Visionary Hustler Moodboard” (a collage of wolves, Ferraris, and a quote that said ‘Grind Now, Dominate Later’) and he still signed off as ‘Strategic Advisor.’

Akio remembered that week all too well, mostly because he had to clean it up. He’d written the apology email, reattached the correct files, and spent three full days fielding confused follow-ups from everyone Narisawa had looped in by mistake, including the janitorial department and a pet groomer from Chiba who wasn’t even on the payroll.

All while Narisawa proudly referred to it as a "learning opportunity."

Akio’s smile stayed frozen in place. It was either that or scream.

Amaya nodded seriously. “Wow. That’s so many words.” With a tilt of her head, she added, “If you say ‘synergy pipeline’ three times in a mirror, do you summon a cursed intern?”

Naomi nodded her head thoughtfully. “Oh, so you do high-stakes coordination too?” She said sweetly. “That’s funny, I throw knives at people for a living. You know, target alignment, rapid decision-making, cross-functional accuracy. Very agile. Honestly, it sounds like we basically have the same job.”

As she shifted her weight, the high slit in her dress slipped just enough to reveal a silver throwing knife strapped discreetly to her thigh.

Narisawa’s smile twitched. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

“Oh! Well, ha ha… that’s… um… interesting…” He sputtered.

Right on cue, a voice from across the room called his name. “Narisawa-kun! Over here!”

Narisawa spun around so fast Akio was surprised he didn’t leave a smoke trail. “Ah! Duty calls,” he said, already walking backwards like his shoes were on fire. “Nice meeting you all!”

He disappeared into the crowd.

Beside him, Amaya and Naomi were snickering.

Akio sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “You two are evil.”

Just then, a waiter clinked a spoon against a crystal glass and announced, “Dinner is served.” The crowd shifted toward their tables.

The four of them settled near the centre of the ballroom, with Amaya and Naomi gawking quietly at the centrepiece made of folded lotus blossoms and edible gold leaf.

Amaya leaned in close and whispered, “Are we allowed to eat the flowers?”

Naomi squinted. “Why is this lettuce shinier than my future?”

“It looks hand-painted,” Amaya added, dead serious.

Akio wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t.

Shinji had been whisked away earlier by someone from upper management (he went willingly, like someone who knew exactly where the good wine was kept) but reappeared just as the appetizers were being set down, looking chuffed and mildly tipsy.

Conversation drifted easily after that. The champagne probably helped. Akio found himself introducing Amaya and Naomi to a few more of his colleagues. Thankfully, his coworkers were friendly and far more interested in the Circus School’ upcoming act or Shinji’s role in the company than any gossip about Akio.

No one said anything embarrassing. No one asked awkward questions.

Akio unclenched enough to try the soup.

Midway through dinner, a burst of laughter erupted from a nearby VIP table, drawing their attention. To Akio’s astonishment, he saw one of the company’s most senior executives holding up a piece of wagyu steak… and feeding it to a small white creature seated atop a velvet booster cushion in its own gold-trimmed chair.

A tiny white Pomeranian, fluffy as a dandelion puff and wearing a pearl-studded collar.

Wait a second, that was Mr. Snuffles!

Amaya gasped, her eyes round. “Oh my gosh, is that—?”

“Yup,” Shinji said. “That’s Mr. Snuffles. CEO’s beloved pom.

“HE’S REAL?” Amaya hissed in wonder, half-rising in her chair. “I thought you guys were joking!”

“Nope,” Shinji replied. “Mr. Snuffles attends every major event. Has his own company ID badge and everything. Rumour is, he once barked during a shareholder meeting and the entire agenda changed.”

Naomi leaned forward. “Please tell me he has business cards.”

“Golden ones,” Shinji said grimly.

Akio stared, shell-shocked as he processed the sight of the country’s most powerful business leaders collectively doting on a dog the size of a teapot.

The CEO himself, a silver-haired apex predator in a suit worth more than Akio’s annual rent, was currently patting Mr. Snuffles’ head and murmuring something in baby-talk.

“I’m not sure whether this is adorable or deeply unhinged,” Akio muttered.

“Oh, it’s both,” Shinji replied with a straight face. “Mr. Snuffles once chose the company’s new logo by drooling on a draft mock-up. It’s in the design memo. Page six.”

Amaya, still mesmerized, whispered, “It’s corporate cult behaviour, and I love it.”

Naomi nodded solemnly. “If that dog runs for president, I’m voting twice.”

Akio relaxed into his seat. His coworkers clearly adored Naomi and Amaya. Shinji was off schmoozing like a diplomat. Mr. Snuffles had been fed wagyu. Against all odds… this night might actually go smoothly.

But then, gradually, Amaya started twitching beside him.

It started small. A slight dim in her laugh, a little bounce in her heel, a quick glance at the clock and a tighter grip on her fork. She stabbed at a cherry tomato, but instead of piercing, the tomato launched in a perfect arc, hitting Shinji square in the face.

“Did I... get sniped?” Shinji asked confused.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, turning to Amaya.

She nodded. “Yup.”

She shifted in her seat. Picked at her dessert, then picked at his.

“Yup,” she said again. “Totally fine. Great. Good. Excellent. Really excited to possibly die in front of a room full of rich people.”

Akio turned toward her fully now, brow knitting. “Amaya.”

“What if I get up there,” she said, “and I freeze? What if I mess it up? What if I just… can’t?”

Akio’s first instinct was to say something logical. That the rig had been double-checked. That she’d practiced. That statistically, the chances of failure were low, but one look at her and he knew those weren’t the words she needed.

So instead, under the white linen of the tablecloth, he nudged her knee with his.

“Hey,” he said gently. “You’re going to be amazing.”

She looked up at him.

“You don’t have to prove anything,” he continued, steady, even if his heart was doing drum rolls under his ribs. “Even if your arms shake. Even if your knees wobble. Even if you forget which way’s up. You’ll still be you. And that’s already more than enough.”

“You’re allowed to be scared,” he added, a little quieter now, “but you’ve never let fear stop you before. Don’t start tonight.”

“I guess you’re right,” she muttered, like it physically hurt her to admit it.

Naomi stood lazily. “C’mon, van der Windt,” she said, tugging at Amaya’s sleeve. “Let’s go dazzle the suits.”

Amaya rose, still a little pale.

She turned back to Akio just before she left. She leaned down closse enough to murmur in his ear.

“Hold my dessert. And if I don’t make it out alive…” Her voice dropped to a dramatic whisper. “Eat my chocolate dome for me.”

“You’re not dying,” he muttered, but slid the plate protectively closer to his side anyway.

She grinned and then she was gone, Naomi dragging her toward the velvet curtains like some punk fairy godmother in heels.

The lights began to dim, one chandelier at a time.

Showtime.