Chapter 5 Here's my cv, please, reject me! Part 1

I haven't slept.

Not because of insomnia. 

Not because of anxiety. 

Because of something worse.

Dreams. I hate dreams.

I'm 19 again. Second year of college. I still believed that effort correlated with results.

Yui Takahashi is standing in front of me in the library. Long red hair, eyes that seem to understand things I don't. The only person at Todai who didn't look at me like I was a weirdo when I explained why social conventions were arbitrary constructs.

“Shon-kun, I need your help.” Her voice is soft, almost like a dream.

“With what?”

“The modern philosophy essay. Takamura-sensei wants it tomorrow and I... I don't understand Nietzsche.”

“No one really understands Nietzsche. We just pretend.”

She laughs. That laugh that made me believe that maybe, just maybe, not everything was empty.

“Can you help me?” She showed me her laptop where she had her essay. at the same time she touches her nose, she always do that when she's lost.

apart from my sisters, she was the only one I couldn't refuse. I was...

She clumsily wrote down my recommendations, we talked about Nietzsche, this is going to take days at this rate...

“Do you mind if... I write?” She moves away, leaves me the laptop, quickly with my geek skills, I write faster than I speak.

“Oh! Amazing!” She applauds excitedly.

Five hours explaining the eternal return, the übermensch, the death of God. She takes notes, nods, her eyes shining with understanding.

“This is great, how do you know all this?” she says at the end.

“I just read a lot.”

“No, it's more than that.” Yui looks at me, then she smiles, that damn smile.

I should have seen the obvious connection.

The next day, Kenji Yamamoto presents the same essay I wrote and edited for five hours. Word for word. The same connections. The same conclusions. Even the same obscure and ridiculous references I had deciphered.

“Kenji-kun is amazing!” Yui says in the hallway, hanging on his arm. “Takamura-sensei was so impressed, he wants you to give a lecture. That's a guaranteed pass!”

Yui sees me.

“Thanks for your help yesterday, Shon-kun. Also, yesterday, Kenji read the essay and said it was pretty decent, but when Kenji improved it, Takamura sensei was so impressed that he asked him to present it instead of me. We passed with honors!”

Yui didn't read the report, otherwise he would have known it was my report, word for word.

Kenji smiles at his friends, not even deigning to look at the boy who wrote his latest success. Yui runs over to take his arm.

I don't say anything. What could I say? “I wrote that essay”?in the end, I really didn't care if someone used my work and I didn't receive credit. For me, it was something I wrote one afternoon in my free time, but... it was...

I just nod and keep walking.

From that day on, she started dating Keiji.

And we only talked when she needed help with her “reports and essays.”

why?

I pretended not to know the answer, but...

...Yui, the only person who seemed to see me, only saw me as a tool...

Am I going to be a tool again?...

[08:45 - Monday]

Akari bangs loudly on my door.

“Niisan!!”

Well, banging loudly on my door is just a euphemism for saying she breaks down the door.

“Get ready quickly, Reina-sama is coming.” Akari looks agitated and runs off through the living room, tablet in one hand, phone in the other.

I wake up with a start. The memory fades, but the bitter taste remains.

It's 8:45 in the morning. I didn't know my body remembered how to be conscious before noon.

So, without much excitement, I go down to the living room and sit on the sofa in my pajamas, my battle suit. It has teddy bears on it (a gift from Miki, don't judge). Yes, my dignity died years ago.

“Nii-san, Reina-san will be here in 5 minutes—” Miki shouts as she rushes by, two phones in each hand, calling.

“HEY!” Miki looks up, startled, but then looks at her phone and realizes she's not on mute. “Oh, sorry, that wasn't for you, ha ha,” she says, then mutes her voice.

“WHY ARE YOU IN YOUR PYJAMAS, PUT SOMETHING DECENT ON,” Miki says, whispering loudly. Wow, that's new to me.

“WHAT?!” a scream is heard from the other side of the house, and Akari appears quickly.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN YOUR PYJAMAS?” she shouts quietly. What is it with sisters and volume?

“Does it matter? More importantly, why so early?” says a half-asleep, half-scared Shon, not because of Reina, but because his sisters have the look of an angry chihuahua.

“It's her normal schedule and...” Akari sighs as she looks at the bears on my pajamas and crouches down. “There's been a crisis. Three major investors want an emergency meeting. Someone leaked information about the merger and—”

“What? Wait, are you leaving?”

“Don't worry,” she shouts nervously, “but Miki will be—”

“Akari-nee...” Miki sighs as she also looks at the teddy bears on my pajamas next to Akari. “The main client rejected ALL the designs. They want to redo the entire campaign! The presentation is in four hours! What do we do?”

“Oh, crap,” Akari turns pale.

“Haruka-san is panicking! I need to go NOW!"

They look at each other. They look at me. The universe conspires.

“Nii-san,” Akari uses her commanding voice. “Behave yourself—”

DING DONG.

“Damn, she's punctual,” she whispers.

They both rush to the door. Frantic whispers. The door opens.

Reina Kuroshima enters like a force of corporate nature, firm, direct, serene.

A black suit that probably costs more than our house. Heels that sound like death sentences. Hair so perfectly straight that it defies humidity and frizz.

And then she sees me.

She stops.

Her blue eyes scan me from head to toe. Bear pajamas. Hair that hasn't seen a comb in days. Eyes of someone who hasn't slept on a regular schedule in years.

Her expression doesn't change, but something in her eyes does. Like when a predator realizes its prey isn't even worth the energy to hunt.

“Shon.” It's not a question. It's an order. She identifies me as an inferior species.

“Present,” says a condescending Shon, looking away as he scratches his hair.

Akari intervenes, nudging Shon in the ribs with her elbow: “Reina-san, my apologies, Shon isn't good in the mornings, and besides, the investors—”

“I know. Tanaka is being paranoid about the leak.” Reina doesn't take her eyes off me. “Go. You need at least three hours to calm him down.”

“But—”

“Akari.” Her tone brooks no argument. “Do you trust me?”

“You? Yes, but—” She looks at Shon.

“Don't worry, go.” She says it in her usual calm tone.

“I also need—” Miki begins.

“Haruka's client. I know that too. They're predictable when they panic. Go before Haruka starts hyperventilating.”

“How do you know—?”

“I have my methods. Go. Now.”

My sisters look at me as if they were throwing me to the lions. Then they flee like pros.

Silence.

Reina walks over to the sofa in front of me. She sits down with an elegance that makes our furniture look cheap. She takes out her tablet. She ignores me completely.

One minute.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

“Is that it?” I finally ask.

“Were you expecting something else?” She doesn't look up.

“I don't know. An introduction? An explanation? A hello?” I just say it. If she said hello, I'd leave right then and there.

“Your existence is obvious. Hard to ignore, considering your... appearance.”

“Don't wash my face.”

“Or the teddy bears' faces,” says Reina, returning to her laptop.

I only knew her for 20 minutes and I hate her. I'm only going to ask one question, and it's for my sisters.

Why do you need a suitor repellent?

She finally looks up. Her eyes are calculating.

“Do you know the Pareto Principle?”

“80/20,” says Shon, lying down on the couch.

“Apply it to the romantic market. 80% of women compete for the top 20% of men.”

“That sounds depressing for 80% of men.”

“Irrelevant to this conversation. The problem arises when you're part of the 1% of the 1%.”

“First world problems.”

“All problems are first world problems when you live in the first world.” She returns to her tablet. “My father sends suitors. All in the top 20%. Handsome, rich, with connections.”

“And what's the problem?”

“They all think they deserve me. That I'm their prize for existing with inherited advantages or pretty faces.”

“So many men are fighting to possess you, how terrible.” Shon scratches his chest nonchalantly. “And where do I fit into this?”

He looks at me. He really looks at me for the first time.

“Tell me, Shon. What do you see when you look at me?”

“Is that a trick question?”

“It's an assessment.”

“Are you sure?” Shon sits up straight now.

He just nods.

I look at her. I evaluate her as she evaluated me.

"I see an apathetic woman who cares about her image even here, maybe a bad habit? Is she prey to the press? She wears high heels, jackets, and expensive perfume even when she comes to something as informal and extracurricular as coming to see me, which means one of two things: either she dresses like that at home, or she wears the outfit not because she likes it, but because wearing an outfit is her personal trademark and she can't take it off, forced. I see—"

“I understand,” she says curtly, but she doesn't sound annoyed. She sounds... intrigued? “Go on.”

“I see... Wait, why do you want to continue with this?”

“Because you just did something no suitor has ever done.”

“Insult you?”

“See me without the filter of desire or ambition.”

“That's easy when you have neither.”

“Exactly.” She leans forward. “I need a human filter. Someone who asks specific questions to identify true intentions.”

“What kind of questions?”

He pulls out his phone and shows me a list:

    What do you think about women in positions of power?
   How would you handle having a more successful wife?
   What do you think about prenuptial agreements?
   Does your family have debts or financial problems?
   What do you know about my company?

“These questions are terrible,” I say immediately.

“Excuse me?”

“They're too obvious. Any idiot could see through the intentions behind these questions, play along, and pass.”

“So what should I ask?” Reina touches her nose.

I think about that gesture, Yui. Yui's dream still lingers in the back of my mind. Maybe all women can make that damn expression. I bite my lip before continuing.

"First question changed: 'My ex-girlfriend earned more than me. Why do you think we broke up?‘ If she says something about wounded masculinity, power games, or assumes whatever, it means she's not interested in knowing, that she thinks she understands everything, which is terrible. If she says, 'I don't know, tell me,’ she's showing interest in you as a person. In the end, in a relationship, only two people know the real answer."

Reina types quickly.

“Second: ‘I just fired my CFO (Chief Financial Officer). He was brilliant but boring. What do you think?’ If he says you did the right thing by prioritizing chemistry, he's an idiot. If he asks why he was boring if he was brilliant, he understands that work is work.”

“Continue.”

Third: 'Your father wants you to get married this year. What would you say to him? Let's analyze your options. If you say you would listen to him, you are only showing that you seek your father's approval. You want to be a good pawn, both for your father and his, you are not interested in him, work before love, the worst possible answer. If, on the other hand, you say it's your decision, it's just as bad. It indicates that you already had a meticulous plan about when, how, and whom to marry... a plan that obviously brought you to this interview."

Shon looks a little annoyed. “Which, if not bad, indicates interest, but it's just such an orthodox and empty method that you should leave when you hear this question.” Shon scratches his face.

Reina looks at Shon and asks, “Why?”

“It's just... marriage is supposed to be the best thing that ever happened to you, and this just seems like a job interview. Not that I know what one is like, but that's how I imagine them.”

Reina looks at me. Her expression has changed.

“You're smarter than you look.”

“That's not hard,” she says, pointing to her pajama bears.

“No.” She doesn't deny it. “But useful in the end.”

“How cheeky, you don't even hide your intentions.”

“It's part of my charm.”

We continue designing questions. For each one she suggests, I twist it, make it more subtle, more revealing. It's like designing a big trap for people. It's the most entertaining thing I've done in months.

“One more,” she says after an hour. “How do I know you'll work? That you won't let yourself be bought or intimidated?”

“First, that has nothing to do with the interview, second,” Shon yawns, “because I don't care enough about anything to be bought, and besides, I'm not doing this because I want to.”

“You have a point, but whether you like it or not, everyone has a price.”

“My price is so high that it's functionally infinite: I'd have to care about something first.”

He studies me. Then, without warning, he stands up. He walks toward me. He leans in.

Very close.

Too close.

I can smell her perfume. See the details of her perfect makeup. Her blue eyes are inches away.

“What if I told you,” her low voice says, “that I like you? That I find your honesty... refreshing? That if you agree to be my boyfriend, my father would leave me alone.”

Her hand touches my cheek.

“Maybe we could...?”

I look at her.

And I lean back so fast I almost fall off the couch.

“Never do that again, you are a lame actress, That,” I say with a little fear, “was terrifying.”

She straightens up. “How did you know?”

“Are you serious? I don't know how it looked in your mind, but let's go over everything.” Shon composes himself.

“You moved like an android trying to look human. From the moment you stood up, your joints barely moved. Your movements were... orthopedic. When your hand touched my face, it felt like when those robots pet robot dogs, moving in a straight line.”

“...”

“You didn't blink when you approached me. In fact, you didn't blink at all. Your voice barely changed. Your posture was like a store mannequin. It's as if you've never...” I stop, but it's too late.

“As if you had never what?”

“As if you had never tried to seduce someone. Or interact romantically with a human. Or interact with a human, period. And I'm the one saying this, so you see.”

her face doesn't change, but something in her eyes does.

“Besides,” I continue quickly, “it's me. The probability of someone like you feeling something for someone like me is so low that I would need scientific notation to express it.”

Silence.

“Perfect,” he finally says.

“What?”

“You pass. With honors.” He heads to the bathroom. “Excuse me for a moment.”

[Bathroom - Reina's POV]

I close the door. I look at myself in the mirror.

Android.

The word burns. Was I that obvious? That... mechanical?

Of course I was. I've never had to seduce anyone. I've never WANTED to seduce anyone. Men come to me, not the other way around.

And the only time I try...

“As if you've never tried to seduce anyone. Or interact romantically with a human. Or interact with a human, period.”

It's not a lie. I haven't had a real romantic interest in... ever?

My reflection stares back at me. CEO. Prodigy. Rejected by a NEET in bear pajamas. My pride has just been trampled on.

But she passed the final test without even realizing it...

She rejected the 1% without hesitation.

It's horrible.

It's perfect.

Horrible and perfect? Perfect and horrible?

No... it would be more like...

“Perfectly horrible,” I murmur.

Yes. That's Shon. Horrible by all normal standards, perfectly perfect for what I need.

Someone who sees me for who I am: a clumsy human being with too much money trying to look like I have everything under control.

It's insulting.

It's refreshing.

It's...

Why am I smiling?

[Meanwhile in the living room]

Little Shon realizes he passed the test. “That was easy,” Shon thought, but he understood that now he would have to get up at 9 a.m. to help Reina. Little Shon puts his hands on his head and doesn't move.

Do your best, little shon ~