Ch.003 – Lo, the fool obeyeth thine errands – 03

Sunday night, the city bustling with crowd as usual, but less tense, its loud but almost in a daze, as if the whole of Tokyo was half-dreaming under the pale spill of winter.

Renji sat still in the driver's seat, elbows resting on the steering wheel, a casual navy shirt to his lean frame like an afterthought. His jeans weren’t much better, with a faded patch near the ankle—but at least they matched his instructions yesterday: “Wear something tidy.”

The car, on the other hand, didn’t belong in his world, no, it’s Renji who didn’t belong in this car interior. Sleek new., even still carried the typical new stuff scent—synthetic leather and fresh plastic—like it hadn’t quite accepted it would be used yet.

Man… what am I getting into…

A soft buzz comes from his phone not long after.

‘Unknown number’

...Huh?

Renji squinted, picked it up, pressed it to his ear.

“Who is this…?”

Short static, then a voice.

“Where are you?” A voice that soft, mature, smooth, firm, all at once. He knew that voice.

…Of course she already had my number…

“I’m at the parking lot. KHX tower. Where you said.” Renji answered while looking around for her.

There was a pause. Then, she said, “Lobby.” The call ended just like that.

Renji stared at the phone for half a second, “...Yes, ma’am,” he muttered to the empty car.

The engine hummed back to life smoothly as he rolled toward the lobby, tires crunching lightly over the snow that hadn’t fully settled yet along the pavement.

There she is…

Standing under the fine arch of the building’s entrance, her arms crossed loosely, head tilted just slightly. Cladded in a black cashmere long coat.

“Haah… seriously… this lobby isn’t that far from parking lot… why don’t you just walk…?”

Renji stared at her, there was nothing hurried in the way she stood. But her expression was shifting gradually, almost imperceptibly, from neutral to disapproval.

“What is she waiting for…?”

He stayed where he was seated inside for a moment. Then he glanced back at the closed car door behind him—

…Right, of course…

He stepped out, rounded the car, and opened the back door with an exaggerated sweep.

“Good evening, my lady. How was your day today?” His voice was expressionless yet carrying that sarcastic tone. The kind of mock formality that would get a normal man slapped.

Clearly unimpressed, Reika walked past him like air. She slid into the seat while crossing her legs, and pulled the door shut without waiting for him.

Renji raised a brow. Then smirked. “Glad to see you had a relaxing day,” he said to no one as he returned to the driver’s seat and buckled in.

The car interior changed the moment she entered. Her perfume seeped into the tiny space—light floral notes, smooth and elegant, something expensive and rare. He couldn’t place it, but it made the air feel less like his own.

He adjusted the rearview mirror just slightly.

“…So. Where to, Miss Reika?”

She didn’t look up from her phone. “Boutique Center, Omotesando. We’re picking up Shira.”

“…Okie dokie…”

They drove in silence.

Outside, the streets pulsed with life—couples wrapped in scarves, children tugging parents toward glowing windows, groups of teens taking photos besides the café mascots. Tokyo never truly slept, but December gave it an extra spark.

Christmas coming soon, huh…

Then Renji glanced once again at the mirror.

By the way… Saturday, Sunday too… does she ever take a day off?

He wondered as he sees her still busy with something on her phone in the back seat for a while now.

By the time they reached the Boutique Center, Reika was already dialing before the car fully stopped.

“Shira. We’re in front of Narcisse.”

Renji found a space by the curb and flicked on the hazard lights. Through the windshield, he saw her—Shira. Cutting through the crowd with unfaltering purpose.

Aight, I know the drill already…

Renji sighed, stepped out again, and opened the rear door as she approached.

“Good evening, Lady Shira. How was your day today?”

Shira glanced at him. A single, unimpressed look. Then she got in without a word, the door closed with a soft thunk.

Renji muttered under his breath.

“Right. Another one having a lovely day it seems…”

Renji climbed back into the driver’s seat like tired machine and about three updates behind in firmware. Seatbelt slid across his chest with a lazy pull and click. He stared out at the slow swirl of snow under the streetlight, listening absently to the murmurs behind him.

“–so it’s clear.”

“Yes. I’ve made sure of it.”

Reika and Shira spoke in tones too low for casual eavesdropping, but still loud enough that Renji assume it’s not a top-secret stuff. Then turned just enough to speak over his shoulder, cutting their conversation.

“So... where do we land next, m’lady?” he asked in a performative lilt—aristocratic, exaggerated, like a waiter in a knockoff period drama.

Reika gave out a tired sigh, but this time with almost amused look at him.

“Elysée Blu. Ginza.”

Renji nodded, and took a while for him to open maps on his phone to search for that address until he finds it.

“Okie dokie~” he chirped, in a tone so casual it nearly swung to insolent.

The car rolled smoothly into early-night traffic, without a word, Shira leaned forward and dropped a thick, paper boutique bag onto the empty front seat beside him.

“That’s your suit,” Shira said. “Start wearing it tomorrow.”

…Ooh… fancy…

“...Yes, ma’am.” Renji shot it a glance, then returned his eyes to the road.

The ride didn’t take long. The car pulled in front of Elysée Blu, a restaurant where the entrance alone could bankrupt your average couple’s date night. A valet already watched them from distance, but didn’t approach.

Renji stepped out, circled the car, and opened the rear door.

I had to do this every time, huh…

Reika stepped out first, her heels clicking softly on the stone tile as she moved straight toward the entrance without a glance back. The restaurant swallowed her silhouette in warm light and hushed murmurs.

Shira followed, but paused mid-step. She turned toward him.

“We’ll only be an hour—” Before he could speak, a stack of paper was shoved into his chest. He caught it awkwardly, fingers fumbling with the weight.

“—Read it. Sign it. Give it back when I return.”

“This…?”

“Terms and conditions,” Shira replied, already turning halfway. “Your contract.”

“Ah... got it,” Renji said, giving a mock salute.

Shira ignored it with a sigh and walked off. The restaurant doors closed behind her. Leaving Renji stood beside the street.

Then he climbed back into the car, locked the doors, and sighed into the quiet.

“Easy job,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead. “But damn... what’s with this heavy air?”

The glovebox light flicked on as he cracked the contract open on his lap. Snow tapped at the windows like an amateur drummer. Renji leaned back in the seat, the first page stared back at him, dense with text. He took out his silver pen from his notebook inside his folded jacket under the seat.

‘The Secondary Party, henceforth referred to as the Contractee, is hereby obligated to maintain full discretion in regard to all operational activities within the jurisdiction of KHX Logistics and—'

He paused.

“Huh... Sure… Usual jargon.”

‘...will subject themselves to behavioral assessments as deemed necessary by internal arbitration bodies under clause 3.4b, and must comply with…’

By the bottom of page two, he’d stopped reading aloud, his pen had stopped tapping. His eyes had started darting—not reading, but scanning.

‘In case of unsanctioned absences, punishment shall be determined by internal review—'

“...Okay... this part about attendance, nothing weird…”

By page three, he'd already started skimming. His finger dragged lazily down the paper as he picked out keywords like confidentiality breach, internal arbitration, and emergency containment protocol.

“Man is this how top-tier chauffeur contract looked like…? they wrote this like they just copy pasted it from typical corporate mumbo jumbo lingo…”

Page five, still nothing about the work itself—just layers of behavioral expectations and bizarrely specific consequences. Page seven had something about loyalty clauses. Page eight used the term ‘affiliation with non-sanctioned parties’ three times in one paragraph. Whatever that meant.

Renji flipped impatiently through the rest, stopping at the final page and, finally, something human: bolded text, centered and underlined.

‘Monthly Compensation: ¥500,000’

“Oohhh... here’s the most important part.”

Just below that, in elegant and beautiful curves, her name was already there and penned:

‘Reika Hiraga’

As expected… Impressive signature… just like the woman herself…

He held the pen loosely between two fingers, looked at the empty signature line beside hers, and shrugged.

Seriously… seriously… what am I getting myself into…?

“…This doesn’t seem like a part-time contract anymore,” he muttered, suspicion creeping in like a cold draft through a cracked window.

But damn… that 500,000 a month is a lifesaver.

With the enthusiasm of a man accepting the terms of an unknown afterlife, Renji scribbled his simple signature beside hers.

What’s wrong with me…? I just got in trouble partly because of her… and now I’m willingly working for her?

“It’s all your fault—damn rent and this cursed thing called daily needs…”

Renji blinked as he sank back into the plush leather seat. Everything had happened so fast.

I Should’ve talked to Tetsuo first…

Outside, snow drifted heavy and slow in the late afternoon light. A faint chill pressed against the windows, but inside the luxury sedan, it was warm and quietly still. Renji glanced at the empty backseat reflected in the rearview mirror.

“This might be the highest-paying job I’ve ever had”

The faces of the two women floated back into his mind.

Shira, with her razor-straight posture and zero-expression glare, had made her thoughts obvious to him—

“I hate you. You’re useless. I breathe out of obligation when you’re nearby.”

“…I bet that’s what she says…”

But Reika… she was something else.

There had only been too brief of an exchange between them—She was harder to read. One moment distant and unreadable, the next oddly polite and almost considerate. Like she wore a mask but couldn’t decide whether to keep it on.

There was something underneath it. Renji just couldn’t tell if it was steel or blood.

He reached for the notebook tucked inside his jacket under the car seat, the pages already worn with crooked handwriting and half-torn corners. Already a habit to him. Flipping to a clean page, he stared at the lines. Twirling his silver stainless steel pen, he hovered there, waiting for something to spill out. Anything.

All he wrote was—

‘8 December 2024’

‘I’m driving a rich lady for 500,000 a month! Yippee.’

The handwriting slouched across the page like it gave up halfway through a joke.

He frowned. Even sarcasm didn’t cheer him up this time.