Chapter 8 Sometimes, just sometimes, you can believe in him

[The Suitor - 10:00 AM]

Takeshi Nakamura enters as the protagonist of a generic romantic drama.

Tall—I estimate 182 cm. Athletic build but not exaggerated, the kind of body that comes from a private gym with a personal trainer, not from actual work. Gray Armani suit—I recognize the brand because it has that specific cut I saw in a magazine Miki left behind. Black hair with artistic gel, he probably spent 15 minutes in front of the mirror achieving that “casual tousled look.”

Symmetrical face. Defined jawline. Dark eyes that have probably melted a few hearts.

In short: objectively handsome by conventional standards.

Also: objectively the type of person who has never heard “no” in a serious way.

Practiced smile. He brings a bouquet of red roses. Big ones. Expensive ones.

He stops when he sees me.

Microscopic surprise. He was probably expecting Reina alone.

“Ah,” he says, recovering. “Good morning. Takeshi Nakamura.” He extends his hand.

I stand up. I shake it. A firm but not aggressive handshake.

“Shon. Consultant.”

“Consultant...” He repeats as if the word were alien. “Reina-san mentioned there would be... an evaluation.”

He sits down across from me. He places the roses on the table between us.

“Coffee?” I offer, pointing to the coffee pot Akari left behind.

“Please.”

I pour. Two cups. Silence except for liquid dripping.

I sit down. I take out my tablet.

Nakamura's file is open:

NAKAMURA TAKESHI
Age: 26
Family: Nakamura Pharmaceuticals (heir)
Education: Keio University, Business Administration
Estimated net worth: 800 million yen (family)
Marital status: Single
Connection to Kuroshima Industries: “Proposed pharmaceutical merger” (unconfirmed)

Below, in Akari's notes:
“Father insists on another meeting. Reina-san agreed to greet him at a party thrown by Takeshi's father. Reina's father insists on a marriage alliance.”

I close my tablet.

I have memorized the questions. The good ones. The ones designed to expose him.

I'm not going to use them.

Because in the last 40 minutes I had an epiphany:

If I fail here, if I'm so incompetent that I can't do this simple job, they'll fire me. I'll go back to my room. To the loop. To the safety of not disappointing anyone because no one expects anything.

Perfect plan.

“So...” I begin, completely ignoring the tablet, “Nakamura-san. Do you like... dogs?”

Silence.

Nakamura blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Dogs. Canines. Are you a dog person or a cat person?”

[OBSERVATION ROOM - AT THE SAME TIME]

The adjoining room has a one-way glass wall. A large screen shows the meeting from three angles.

Akari stands beside it, tablet in hand.

And the special guests:

Tanaka Hiroshi, 42, CFO of Kuroshima Industries. Impeccable black suit but slightly crooked tie—a sign that he already worked six hours before 10 a.m. Perfectly combed hair. A face that looks perpetually worried, as if he were calculating a thousand problems simultaneously. Hands drumming nervously on the arms of his chair.

Yano Keiko, 28, Head of HR. Black suit, but jacket hanging on the back of her chair—relaxed. Rimless glasses that she occasionally adjusts. Red hair in a ponytail. Reclined posture, one leg crossed. Notebook on her lap but still unopened. An expression of “let's see what happens” rather than “let's analyze everything.”

Both asked to be present. Both have doubts about “the consultant.”

“Dogs?” Tanaka murmurs. “What does that question mean?”

Yana replies. “Maybe he's asking if he likes animals, you know, empathy for animals translates into...? I don't know, something good?”

“But... what about the questions we prepared?” Tanaka says worried

“He's probably testing Nakamura. After all, he did ask the questions.” Akari clutches her tablet.

[MEETING ROOM]

“Dogs,” I confirm. “It's important. It says a lot about a person.”

Nakamura recovers quickly. He smiles. “I like both. But if I have to choose... dogs are loyal, just like me!.”

“Interesting.” It's not interesting. “And... favorite food?”

Nakamura looks at me sideways, surprised.

I ignore his gaze.

Nakamura now laughs. Relaxed now. “Sushi. Specifically tuna.”

“Expensive,” I comment.

“Worth it for the quality.”

“Of course.” I write it down on my tablet, although I don't write anything real. “Hobbies?”

“Golf. Some personal investments. I recently started photography.”

“Mmm.”

This is going perfectly. Superficial questions, useless information, zero pressure. Nakamura is relaxing more by the second.

I am officially incompetent.

The plan is working.

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

On screen, Nakamura replies, “I like both. But if I have to choose... dogs are loyal...”

Shon nods as if this is deeply revealing.

“Interesting. And... favorite food?”

Tanaka stands up. He walks toward the screen. “This isn't... this isn't the approach we discussed.”

“Give it time,” says Akari.

“Time for what? For Nakamura-san to pass with teenage first date questions?”

Yano yawns. “Tanaka-san, you're being dramatic again.”

“I'm not being dramatic! I'm... being realistic.” Tanaka nervously adjusts his tie. “Akari-san, with all due respect to your brother—”

“Hoshino-san,” Akari corrects automatically.

“Sorry, Hoshino-san. But this... this doesn't seem professional.”

On screen, Shon asks about hobbies.

Nakamura replies, “Golf. Personal investments. Photography, recently.”

“Mmm.”

That's it. “Mmm.”

Tanaka makes a sound of frustration. “See? No pressure! No challenge! Nakamura-san is completely relaxed.”

“Maybe that's the point,” Yano offers, but without conviction.

“What point? Passing anyone?” Tanaka turns to Akari. “Hoshino-san, I know you trust your brother, but I need to express formal doubts. Reina-san asked me to evaluate objectively, and objectively... this is poor performance.”

Akari clutches her tablet. “Shon knows what he's doing.”

“Really? Because from here it looks like he's improvising.”

Yano checks his watch. “We're 12 minutes in. Let's give him... five more before declaring total disaster.”

[MEETING ROOM - 10:15 AM]

Fifteen minutes of completely useless questions.

Travel. College. “Philosophy of life” that I wish I hadn't heard.

Nakamura is completely relaxed. Open posture. Genuine smile now.

I am officially being incompetent.

Plan is working perfectly.

“Well,” I say, closing my tablet, “I think—”

“Shon-san.” Nakamura leans forward. Friendly smile. Too friendly. “I appreciate the... chat. Interesting to meet you. But let's be honest.”

“Honest?”

“This is corporate formality, right?” Casual hand gesture. “Process. Checkbox on list.”

He stands up. Walks around the table. Absolute confidence.

“Reina-san and I come from worlds that understand each other. That's very important in a relationship. Established families and similar expectations. Real compatibility is built with time together, and that's why...” He looks at me.

He comes closer. Too close to my space.

“I propose something more productive: that Reina-san and I have a real dinner. No intermediaries. This Friday. I know the perfect place—view of Tokyo Bay, private, appropriate for someone of your... caliber.” He winks.

The way he says “caliber.”

Not as admiration. As... classification.

Like when you evaluate a car before buying it.

“I'm sure Reina-san will appreciate a more direct approach. I knew it from the first time I saw her. A woman like her—sexy, successful, elegant—deserves to be courted properly.”

“Sexy?”

He says the word as if it were flattering to any human being.

He didn't say something like “she's beautiful and captivated me.”

He just said “sexy” as if it were something positive.

And then I see it.

His eyes when he looks at me. They don't look hopeful or nervous.

They look... anticipatory of victory.

Like someone who has already won and is now just waiting for formal confirmation.

As if Reina were already his. All that's left is to sign here.

I look at the roses on the table.

Red.

Specifically red.

[OBSERVATION ROOM - 10:17 AM]

“Well played,” Tanaka murmurs. “He completely dodged the process. And frankly... he's right. The consultant found nothing.”

Yano writes in his notebook: Candidate: proactive, direct. Consultant: confirmed incompetent.

Akari watches the screen. Shon is silent. Nakamura waits.

Tanaka sighs. “Hoshino-san, I'm sorry to say, but your brother—”

“Wait,” says Akari. Her voice is tense.

“Wait for what? It's over. Nakamura-san passed. Not because he's good, but because the consultant was—”

“I BELIEVE IN SHON!”

The scream cuts through the air.

Tanaka recoils, startled.

Yano looks up, surprised.

Akari is standing, hands clenched into fists, staring at the screen where her brother sits motionless.

“I'm sorry,” she says more softly, but firmly. “I'm sorry for yelling. But... I believe in him. Shon wouldn't ask stupid questions out of incompetence. There must be a reason. There always is with him.”

Tanaka nervously adjusts his tie. “Hoshino-san, I understand family loyalty, but—”

“It's not blind loyalty,” she interrupts. “I know Shon.”

She stares intently at the screen.

“Come on, nii-san. I know you're there.”

[MEETING ROOM - SAME TIME]

The wall isn't as thick as they thought.

“—I BELIEVE IN SHON!”

The shout pierces through. Muffled but clear.

Akari.

Defending me? Is there anyone else?

The team that modified the questions. Reina, are you really wasting so many resources on this?

Even so, something twists in my chest.

Uncomfortable.

Warm.

Guilty.

I believe in Shon...

...what a disgusting phrase.

Nakamura didn't hear it. He's looking at his phone, waiting for a response that he knows will come from me.

I want to fail, but.

I believe in Shon.

Dang it.

I look at Nakamura. Still smiling. Confident.

And in that moment of distraction, while he waits for his victory...

I see details I ignored before.

His hands. His left hand drums impatiently, not nervously.

His right hand has a tan line where his watch should be. But today he's not wearing it.

Why take off your luxury watch for a meeting where you supposedly want to impress?

Unless...

“Nakamura-san,” I interrupt his wait. “One more question. Quick.”

He sighs. Patient. Condescending. “Sure, Shon-san. But make it the last one.”

“The watch you usually wear. Where is it?”

He blinks. “Excuse me?”

I point to his wrist. “Tan line. Clear. Big watch. Expensive, probably. Why aren't you wearing it today?”

“I...” He looks at his wrist. “I forgot it at home.”

“Did you forget something on the day of an important meeting? Maybe because you were nervous? Although you don't look very nervous to me.”

“It's not—”

“No, you're not someone who gets scared, or are you, and if someone like...” I process the information, “like your father told you not to wear it?”

“No one—”

"Someone like your father who was at the same party where you ‘met’ Reina-san. Someone who noticed that Reina-san wears a Cartier watch. Discreet. Elegant. And your Rolex Submariner is... flashy. Eye-catching. Too obvious for someone trying to impress with money, except it wouldn't work with Reina."

His face changes.

“So you left it. You adjusted your image. Watch, clothes, attitude, you're not really like that, are you? Yes, yes, it makes sense—.”

“I don't—” Nakamura looks annoyed.

I bow.

“But maybe I'm misjudging you. How about you prove me wrong?”

Nakamura's expression changes, he looks more tense. “Of course,” he says dryly.

“When did you first meet Reina-san? And this time, really.”

Long pause.

“Five months ago,” he finally admits. His voice sounds different. “Charity gala.”

“And... Were there many people there?”

“Yes? But Reina was—”

“Special? Unique? The love of your life? I don't really care, but how about you answer me this: What was she wearing?”

“What?”

“Reina-san. First time you saw her. What was she wearing?”

Silence.

“I don't remember what she was wearing,” Nakamura says. Irritation seeping through. “Why does it matter?”

“You said, ‘I knew it from the first time I saw her. A woman like her—sexy, successful, elegant—deserves to be courted properly.’ Those were your exact words 10 minutes ago.”

“They are, but—”

“But you don't remember what she was wearing when you met her.” I pause. “Men who are genuinely impressed by women remember those details. A strong first impression creates a clear visual memory. Basic psychology.”

“I'm bad with details. Besides, we only talked for thirty seconds. Maybe—”

“Maybe that ‘sexy’ woman was just sexy and that's it, but don't lie to me, you're good with details, maintaining your image, practicing your smile, how to swing a golf club, investments, life philosophy, even highlighting a dog's loyalty. You're basically detail-oriented, but only with everything that has to do with you.”

Nakamura laughs. Uncomfortably. “Shon-san, this is getting—”

“I think I'm being unfair to you. Maybe you're not ready for something like this. It's normal. This is an executive meeting, after all. How about another question? Nothing out of the ordinary, just about Reina's resume and the company.”

Nakamura nods, looking a little nervous now.

“What is the full name of this company?”

“...” Nakamura looks at his hands and replies, “Kuroshima Industries.”

“Full legal name.”

“Kuroshima Industries... Incorporated?”

“No. Kuroshima Global Solutions, Ltd.” I stop. “For an heir whose family supposedly has a ‘business history’ with Kuroshima, you know surprisingly little.”

His smile disappears completely.

“What are you playing at?”

“Working, unfortunately.” Shon takes out his phone. “Google is useful. ‘Reina Kuroshima.’”

First result: Award ceremony. Photo of Reina at a corporate event. Blue dress. Smile. With one detail.

Holding a bouquet of red flowers.

I look closely at the photo. I zoom in.

Her eyes.

They're empty.

Not sad. Not angry. Just... dull.

As if he were physically present but mentally elsewhere. Following protocol. Smiling because he has to. Holding flowers because someone gave them to him.

But not really there.

“Look,” I show the screen to the camera. Not to Nakamura. “First search. First image. Reina-san with red flowers.”

Then to him.

“That's why you brought red roses, right? Because the first photo you found showed her with them.”

Nakamura turns pale.

“You assumed they were her favorites. Superficial deduction based on superficial research.”

“She's a woman, and roses are, I mean, I didn't look for it, it was my—”

“My?” I walk toward the window. “Tell me, Nakamura-san. I know you're not interested in the details, but are you really that blind? Does Reina seem like the kind of person who has ‘favorite flowers’? Regardless of your view of women.”

“Women like—”

“No, people like flowers, their gender is a detail. So think, REINA. CEO at 24. Workaholic. Do you think someone so practical, so focused... cares about flowers?”

Silence.

“Look at the photo again.” I show it to him. “See her face? She's not happy to receive flowers. She's... posing for a photo. Following corporate protocol. Smiling because she has to.”

I walk to the window. View of the lobby.

“If you looked beyond the first search, if you really investigated, you would have noticed something.”

I point down.

“Lobby. First floor. Full of red flowers. Dozens. Identical corporate vases.”

Nakamura says nothing.

“Didn't you wonder why a tech company has a lobby full of flowers? Didn't you find it... strange?”

Silence.

“They're from previous suitors. They all brought roses. Almost all red. All placed there as... what? A memorial? A warning?”

I turn to the camera. Nakamura is pale.

“But you didn't look. Because you didn't come to meet her. You came to pick her up. She's yours, right?”

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

Tanaka has his hand over his mouth. “The Roses...”

Yano is leaning toward the screen. “The flowers, I admit that was far-fetched, but spot on.”

Akari looks calmer.

“The Roses in the lobby,” Tanaka murmurs. “I arrange them. Every single one.”

Yano looks at him. “Yes, Tanaka-san. We all know about your hobby.”

“It's not a hobby, it relaxes me and—”

“De-stresses you, yes, I know the speech, old man,” says Yano. But not cruelly. “But I admit your hobbie served a purpose today, in a twisted way.”

Tanaka doesn't respond. He looks at the screen.

“Shon-san noticed,” he says softly.

“Even I took a couple of days to notice them the first time,” Yano replies. “But he did in five minutes?.”

“He noticed?” says Akari, now somewhat confused. “Even today he arrived early, almost asleep. How did he?”

[MEETING ROOM]

“They researched for you, right?” I continued. “But even so, you didn't even bother to read a one-page document that your advisor probably gave you, and you stuck to the law of least effort, the first Google search and her Instagram account probably—”

Her face confirmed it.

“You built a profile based on... what? Twenty public photos? Articles?”

“I researched—”

“You researched? To propose marriage? Even if that weren't the case, can you really, with all your heart, call that research?”

I sit down.

Nakamura stands up. Trembling.

Not with embarrassment.

From humiliation. From contained anger.

“You know what?” His voice is different. Cold. Real. “You're right. About everything.”

He stands up straighter. His gaze is hard.

"Yes, I saw her profile, and my advisor told me about the red flowers as a detail. Yes, I saw her at the gala and I didn't care. There were many women just as beautiful that night."

He walks towards me. Slowly. Intimidatingly.

“And you know what else? I still don't care. Really. I came because my father insisted. Because the merger—real or not—benefits the family. Because Reina Kuroshima on paper is... convenient and extremely beautiful.”

He gets closer.

I don't move.

“But the funny thing,” he laughs. Bitterly. “The really funny thing is that YOU—a nobody, a failure in cheap clothes. A nobody who has probably never won anything—dare to judge me.”

“I don't judge you. Much. I'm just doing my j-j-job.” I still can't get used to that word.

“Your job?” He leans in. His face close. “Your job is to be the guard dog for a woman who will never look at you twice. You're... a tool.”

I should feel something. Fear. Anger.

I feel... nothing.

“Basically, but don't worry, there's nothing you can think of that I don't already know,” I provoke him.

He blinks. Silence.

His jaw tenses.

He turns away. Abruptly.

He grabs the roses from the table.

And THROWS them on the floor.

Violently.

Petals explode. Stems break.

“There,” says Nakamura. Breathing heavily. “That's what I think of all this.”

He approaches. Intimidating.

“One call. Just one. And your sister starts having... complications.”

“And I'll fall to my knees begging for forgiveness?” I interrupt.

“Yes”

“Because if you do, you confirm everything. And Reina—who is watching—will know. Even worse. Your father will know. It's a camera genius”

His face pales.

“My father won't—”

“Won't he see the recording of his son threatening employees? Won't he find out that you fabricated the merger to justify this?”

Nakamura steps back.

“You, please, you can't—”

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

“HE'S GOT IT!” Tanaka jumps out of his chair.

Yano claps slowly. “Checkmate, prince.”

“He used the father as the ultimate weapon,” Tanaka says excitedly. “Nakamura-san can't do anything without exposing himself. Brilliant!”

On screen, Nakamura recoils, visibly shaken. Defeated.

“It's over,” Yano declares, standing up. “Come on, Tanaka-san. Let's congratulate—”

“Wait.” Akari raises her hand, eyes fixed on the screen.

On screen, Shon speaks again.

“What is he doing?” Tanaka murmurs, confused.

The three of them approach the screen.

[MEETING ROOM]

“I won't do anything,” I say. “I don't need to.”

The silence falls heavy.

Nakamura looks at me. Processing.

His anger slowly deflates. Confusion replaces menace. Residual panic in his eyes.

“Then... this is over.” He stands up. He adjusts his jacket with trembling hands. “I'll tell my father that... it didn't work out. Incompatibility or something.”

He walks toward the door.

Three steps.

“Wait.”

He stops. He doesn't turn around.

“What do you want now?”

I pause. As if it were difficult for me to say.

“Help.”

He turns around. Confused.

“My help?” He laughs. Bitterly. “For what? Money? Because if you think that after humiliating me I'm going to—”

“I don't want your money.”

“Then what.” He crosses his arms. Defensive. “Besides that, I have nothing to offer. You just made that clear.”

“That's not true.”

“What?”

I lean back in my chair. I avoid eye contact.

“You have... experience. That I don't have.”

Silence.

“Experience in what?”

Awkward pause.

“Help me understand why women don't like me.”

(what?!!) ~you can hear something, somewhere~