Chapter 9 Broken flowers and NEETs have something in common: both can be enough for someone.

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

Complete silence.

All three turn to look at the screen.

“What?!” says Tanaka.

“Did he just...” Yano blinks, “say what I think he said?”

Akari has her hands over her mouth.

On screen, Nakamura looks at Shon, completely bewildered.

[MEETING ROOM]

“What? Why don't women like you? ” says Nakamura.

“I believe you can help me, after all, you're successful. Handsome. A millionaire. Me—” I point to myself, “clearly not. Help me.”

Nakamura studies me. Suspicious.

“Are you serious?”

“Genuine question.”

Something changes in his posture. From threatened to... superior.

He sits down. More relaxed.

“Ah. Well. It's... complicated.”

“That's why I'm asking.”

He sighs. Like a patient teacher.

“First: appearance. Look at yourself.”

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

“Oh no,” Yano murmurs.

“What happened?” Tanaka says, bewildered.

“He's going to give him advice,” Akari says.

[MEETING ROOM]

“Cheap clothes. No style. Hair... when was your last haircut?”

“Months ago.”

“Exactly. Women notice that first. Image is everything.”

A chill runs down my spine.

As if someone were judging me.

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

“It's true,” Akari says automatically.

Yano nods. “Presentation matters.”

“Eh?” Tanaka looks at them. “You agree with him?”

“On that specific point, yes,” Akari says. “Nii-san should cut his hair.”

“And get clothes that fit him well,” adds Yano.

“But—he's our ally, we can't agree with naka—”

“He's an enemy with a valid point,” says Akari.

[MEETING ROOM]

“So expensive clothes are what matters?” I ask.

“Not just expensive. Right. Well-tailored suit. Quality shoes. And money, obviously. You have to show you can provide. Take them to nice restaurants.”

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

“Oh, so that's what it was,” Tanaka takes out her notebook and writes something down. “Money impresses—”

“No wonder you're single,” Yano says disappointedly.

Tanaka looks up. “What? But he's handsome and a multimillionaire! He must know—”

“Money can't buy everything, Tanaka-san,” says Akari.

“We both earn more than you,” adds Yano. “How would you impress us with money?”

Tanaka opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again.

“I... but... it's different...”

“Different how?” asks Yano, leaning back. “Enlighten us.”

“I don't know? You're... exceptions?”

“All successful women are ‘exceptions’ to men who think that way,” says Akari.

“Keep taking notes, Tanaka-san,” says Yano sarcastically. “That advice will take you far.”

Tanaka looks at his notebook. He crosses out what he wrote.

[MEETING ROOM]

“So it's about status?” I ask.

“Mainly. Successful women look for partners who complement them. Who don't make them look inferior.”

“And I would make her look inferior?”

“Honestly? Yes. For example Reina-san with you would look... unbalanced.”

The cold intensifies.

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

Akari grimaces uncomfortably.

“Well... at that point...”

“Is he right too?” asks Tanaka.

“It's... complicated,” Akari admits. “It's not about ‘looking good or bad’—love isn't about appearance—but lifestyle compatibility is real—”

“Uh-huh,” Tanaka notes. “So it does matter—”

“Not in the way you think,” Yano interrupts. “It's not about money or status. It's about... not stepping on each other.”

“I'm lost...” Tanaka's notebook is covered in scribbles.

“Compatibility exists, and it's important. It's not impossible to build.” Akari points to the screen. “But honestly, this isn't a romantic conversation.”

“Like it's not,” says Tanaka.

He looks at Shon-san. “Do you think he really cares about this?” says Yano.

The three of them watch.

Shon on the screen keeps asking questions. Calm. Controlled.

“What is he doing?” Akari says softly.

“Your brother is a mystery,” Yano adds with a small smile.

[MEETING ROOM]

“I see. And if I had those things, would it work?”

“That's step 1,” says Nakamura, now leaning back in his chair. “You also need the right conversation. Business. Investments. Things that show your wisdom.”

“Like your plan today with Reina?”

He pauses, uncomfortable.

“Well... yes. But that was because you interfered—”

“Do you think it would work?”

“Yes. It worked before.”

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

“‘It worked before,’” Yano repeats. “With how many, I bet.”

On screen, Nakamura continues:

“With twenty women. Maybe more.”

“Twenty,” Tanaka says, impressed. “Not bad—”

Both women look at him.

“—It's terrible,” he quickly corrects himself. “Twenty, as if they were a game. Not people.”

“Better,” says Akari.

“Almost convincing,” adds Yano.

[MEETING ROOM]

“Longest relationship?” I ask.

“Define long.”

“More than six months? one woman of course and that's it.”

“Ah. No. Those are unnecessary.”

“Why?”

“They eventually end. Why prolong the inevitable?”

Interesting.

“Does that make you happy?”

He blinks. “Happy?”

“Twenty women. None serious. Is that what you wanted?”

“It's reality.”

“Have you ever met a woman, not necessarily beautiful...”

“Ha, many, but...”

“No, not that.” Shon rests his arm on the table. “I'm talking about someone so close that when everything falls apart, it makes the problem seem insignificant and everything boils down to how small your world is...”

“I don't believe in fairy tales.”

“I'm not talking about fairies. I'm talking about humans.”

Nakamura opened his mouth to defend himself, but stopped. His gaze, always calculating, faltered toward a dead spot on the wall. He pauses. Something crosses his face.

“There was... No, it's too coincidental, I mean...” Nakamura hesitates whether to speak or not.

Shon only judges him, but with the passive gaze of a NEET, someone who understands the compassion of others, enough to confirm to Nakamura that he should continue without feeling sorry.

“Three years ago, there was a family crisis. Everything was practically over for me, and I went to a café every day to spend the morning, mainly.” Nakamura looked away slightly. “And there... a waitress,” he admitted, letting his guard down for the first time. “I never knew her name, but she knew mine.”

“It was, well, a dark time, and I would sit as far away as possible, but even so, she would come over every day and ask, ‘Is everything okay?’ Not because she was fulfilling her role as an employee. At first, it bothered me, and even though I was rude to her, she didn't stay away from me. Sometimes, just seeing her there made me feel better.”

Nakamura relaxed a little.

“Hell, sometimes I even prayed while sobbing. The uncertainty was eating me up inside, you know? Not knowing what was going to happen the next day was the worst torture.” Nakamura let out a sigh, as if he had never really gotten over it. “One of those times, when I opened my eyes, she was there, praying with me.”

Nakamura let out a slight chuckle.

“If it had been anyone else, I probably would have hit them right there, but for some reason, she didn't expect anything in return, she just wanted to accompany me.”

“But what if, like the others, she just wanted to take advantage of...” Shon said casually.

But Nakamura interrupts.

“No... impossible. I lost all my money, I couldn't legally use the family name, I looked like I hadn't slept in a week, I was practically a nobody, and I told her everything. It was my worst moment, but even so...”

Shon leaned back in his chair. The image of Shon in an executive chair, dressed in jeans and leaning back, was certainly something different for Nakamura, but the absurdity of the situation gave him the courage to finish his sentence. He knew Shon wouldn't judge him.

“She talked about her life, about mine, she complained about work, I complained about my situation, and the list goes on. I think she was the only person who knew I believe in God,” Nakamura Toce said, “but it's not that I'm ashamed to admit it or anything like that, it's just that no one ever asked me, not even my father.”

Shon dragged his gaze to Nakamura.

“How long did you go to the cafe?” he asked calmly.

“...I think six months.” Nakamura's gaze changed with every word he said.

Shon smiled a little, looking away.

“No, Shon, it's impossible, she...”

“Wasn't she as beautiful as a model?” scratching his face.

“No, but...”

“Was she after you for your million-dollar inheritance?”

“She never even mentioned...”

“Did she want your beautiful face?” said Shon, moving a little closer to Nakamura.

“No, she told me several times...”

Shon brought his legs together and looked at Nakamura, saying,

“Of course not, she probably said something like hello—”

A flash.

Shon's words didn't finish coming out of his mouth, but everything began to change. The office walls did not fade away; they exploded silently under a sudden and violent brightness, as if an old movie were burning in the projector.

The air conditioning with its cold, odorless wind was suddenly replaced by the dense, warm aroma of roasted grain and wood.

“Hello, Nakamura, welcome.”

The voice did not come from outside, but echoed from the center of his chest, soft and clear, defying the passage of time.

The world was reconstructed before his eyes with painful clarity. The golden morning light bathed the entrance of that small shop. And there she was.

She held a small blackboard against her chest with the menu of the day written in colored chalk, her fingers stained with pastel dust. Her apron was slightly crooked and a stray strand of hair fell across her forehead, defying any protocol of etiquette.

Nakamura saw himself, not as the son of the successful, rigid executive in his impeccable suit, but sitting at that table in the corner, his personal sanctuary. The noise from the street was muffled by his grief, distant.

She approached him. In his memory, time slowed down. He saw her lips curve into that asymmetrical smile, a smile that asked for nothing and offered everything. She leaned toward him, and although the words of their conversation had been lost in the abyss of time, the feeling of peace remained intact. It was a warmth that rose up his arms, the absolute certainty that, in that corner of the universe, he was not a problem to be solved. He was simply a man drinking coffee.

The image of her laughing, her eyes closed and the sunlight silhouetting her, began to vibrate.

The golden light of the morning intensified until it became unbearable. The contours of the café, the wood, the aroma, and the smile melted away, devoured by absolute whiteness, a bright and silent void that swallowed everything, leaving him alone once again facing Shon.

There lay the fine porcelain cup of coffee that Shon had offered him, next to his arm. Its aroma and flavor were spectacular, nothing like the cup they offered him at that café.

And yet, it didn't have an ounce of the charm of that café.

Even the color wasn't the same.

Shon kept talking.

“Go back.”

Nakamura's face fell, and he replied, somewhat angrily,

“You don't understand, Shon, I can't go back to...”

“You can go back, you must go back.”

“She's not—” Nakamura paused. “Father would never accept it, Shon. For heaven's sake, I don't even know her name. Please.” Nakamura began to lose himself in his words, trying not to remember. “Shon, we are completely different. She has neither the name nor the status. Our lifestyles—”

“They're incompatible.” Shon takes a sip from his coffee cup.

“If even you understand that, then...” Nakamura almost complains, wanting to stop talking.

“Then make it work and that's it.” And Shon gave him a reason to shut up.

For the first time in years, Nakamura felt as vulnerable as when he sat in that corner praying.

“You said you didn't know her name,” Shon says, putting down his half-empty cup, frowning and sticking out his tongue.

A somewhat benevolent image of Shon putting down his cup and turning toward Nakamura.

“This coffee is too good for me, so much so that its bitter taste makes me uncomfortable.”

So I'm leaving you with two tasks.

Bring me some of that coffee for ordinary people.

And the next time we see each other,

tell me the name of that waitress.

So I'll give you two tasks.

Bring me some of that coffee for ordinary people,

and the next time we meet,

tell me the name of that waitress.

A pause fills the space.

“If you complete those two tasks, I'll let you have a date with Reina,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

Nakamura stands up at that moment, filled with something he has never felt before.

He walks to the door.

His hand on the doorknob.

“She probably doesn't even remember me.”

“Probably.”

“And if she does remember me, she hates me.”

“For disappearing without explanation? Probably.”

Long pause.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because she's my wo-wo-wor-rk-rk.” Shon sneezes. “This word is beyond me...”

Silence.

“If I were—hypothetically—what should I say?”

“I don't know. I don't care.”

From where Shon is standing, he can't see Nakamura's face, but with a big smile he replies,

“After all our talk, I understand that I'm a terrible person and my advice is terrible.” Nakamura slowly opens the door. “But you're no better, your advice is terrible too.”

“I never said it was good.”

He almost laughs.

He leaves.

The door closes.

[OBSERVATION ROOM]

Absolute silence.

The three of them stand motionless in front of the now black screen. The meeting is over.

Akari blinks first. As if waking up.

Yano exhales slowly. Processing.

They look at each other.

And then—

“AAAAAHHH!” they both scream in unison.

Tanaka jumps in fright, almost falling out of his chair.

"WHAT—!

But the two are standing, holding hands, jumping slightly.

“He did it!” says Akari.

“Completely!” adds Yano.

Tanaka puts his hand to his chest. Breathing heavily. “You almost scared me to death...”

But then he looks at the blank screen.

He processes.

The conversation. Nakamura opening up. The nameless waitress. The coffee that wasn't as good as the black.

“Ah,” he murmurs.

Yano looks at him. “Do you understand, Tanaka-san?”

“Yes... I think so.” He nervously adjusts his tie. “Different worlds, but... if they both want to...”

He doesn't finish the sentence.

He doesn't need to.

Yano smiles. “Finally, something for you to write down in your little notebook.”

“Pff ha ha ha ha— yeah, i will” Tanaka simply sits there, taken aback by the unusualness of the moment.

“This is the first time I've heard you laugh like that, and we've been working together for seven years, ha ha ha,” says Yuna happily.

Tanaka sighs. Then he smiles.

“Shon-san is... something else.”

“I told you, Nii-san, he is,” says Akari, almost maternally.

“Human.” Tanaka stands up. “And he noticed the roses. Nobody notices flowers.”

“You and your flowers...” Yano points out.

“Yes, jealous? Shon-san saw them. All by himself. Without anyone telling him.” Her voice trembles slightly with emotion. “That's... special.”

“We'll talk about your flowers later, now...” Yano says, getting up. Stretching lazily. “Let's congratulate the genius before he leaves.”

They walk towards the door.

[MEETING ROOM - 11:18 AM]

I am picking up the last petals from the flowers Nakamura threw when the door opens.

Three people enter.

One is Akari, whom I know, I think, but the other two I do not.

An older man and a woman, younger than him.

I stand up awkwardly with the bouquet of broken flowers in my hand.

“Nii-san, excellent work,” Akari begins.

“Good job, Nii-san,” says Yano.

“Incredible work, Nii-san, and what a great reflection,” she says, wiping away a tear.

"Nii... nii-san? I think I am the older brother of at least one of those three, but the other two are older than me or twice my age.

“Ah, yes, they are—” Akari points to Tanaka.

“Tanaka Hiroshi.” The man bows. Formal. Nervous. “CFO of Kuroshima Industries. I... was watching. Next room.”

He straightens up. Adjusts his tie.

And now she points to Yano.

“Yano Keiko.” The woman gives a small bow. Relaxed smile. “Head of HR. Also watching.”

Look... looking!?" Shon says now, looking at the camera, realizing that it wasn't security but monitoring.

She approaches. She studies me with genuine curiosity.

“I thought you were a mess, Shon-san.” Pause. “I was completely wrong.”

Tanaka looks at her. “Yano-san, that's—”

“Honest. It sounds honest to me, Tanaka-san.” She yawns. “And now I feel like I want to work. That's weird.”

“You want to... work?” Tanaka blinks. “You?”

“I know. Shon-san inspired me.” She smiles. “But if I take a nap, I think it'll pass in an hour,” she says, as if it were an illness.

Tanaka shakes his head. “Seven years of knowing you, and you're still...”

“Charming?”

“Impossible.”

“Also.” Yano turns to me. “Shon-san. That was beautiful and romantic.”

“It wasn't—”

“The roses,” Tanaka interrupts. His voice trembles. “You said you saw them in the lobby. I placed them there. Every single one. Personally.”

He approaches and extends his hand. Out of habit, I shake it.

“Thank you, Shon-san. For seeing them.”

“I don't know what to say.” I really don't know what to say. This whole day has been too strange, and that's not even counting the day when two CEOs showed up at my house and one of them went into the bathroom where I was taking a shower.

Tanaka looks at the bouquet of broken flowers in my hands.

“What a shame... they only let me put them in the lobby if they're in perfect condition. But—” he looks at the flowers, “it's not unusual for them to be thrown away. It's happened before.”

“I can throw them away for you if you want, I'm leaving anyway.” I point towards the exit.

“Nii-san,” Akari interjects quickly. “We have a vase at home.”

I stop.

“We do?”

“Yes. In the living room. I think.”

“Oh.”

Pause.

“Then... I'll take them.”

The three of them look at me.

Yano smiles warmly and walks slowly toward me. She leans on my shoulder.

Like a cat.

Lightweight. Her head resting casually.

“You're not a bad guy, Shon-san,” she says. Soft voice.

“Huh?” What's going on?

“Yano-san,” says Akari. Firm tone.

But Yano doesn't move.

“Yano-san, everyone has to get back to work.”

“Mmm. Five more minutes,” she says as she rubs her face against Shon's shoulder.

Shon looks at her red hair, still with the red flowers in it. He can handle any situation, but this is new territory for him.

“Now,” Akari says threateningly.

“How cruel, Hoshino-san.”

Akari walks towards us. She grabs Yano by the collar of his shirt. Gently but firmly.

“Tanaka-san, you too.”

“Me? But I didn't do anything!”

“You have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Oh, right!” He turns pale.

Akari literally drags them both to the door. Yano lets himself be led along lazily. Tanaka walks quickly but is guided along anyway.

At the door, Akari stops.

She looks at me.

She smiles.

Wide. Genuine. Proud.

She says nothing.

She doesn't need to.

It's “great job, nii-san” without words.

They leave.

I'm left alone.

With broken flowers.

And a strange feeling of... having done something right. And I remember where I am and feel bad again.

[ELEVATOR - 12:15 PM]

I go.

Alone.

Flowers in one hand. Backpack in the other.

It's the 47nd floor. The doors are about to close when—

A hand stops them.

They open.

Reina enters.

And something is... different.

She's still in her suit. Still impeccable.

But her posture is more relaxed. Her shoulders less tense.

There's a small smile playing on her lips.

The doors close.

We start going down.

“How did it go?” she asks. Her voice sounds... light.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” She turns to me.

“I mean, it worked. He left.”

“Oh, I know. I saw.” She laughs.

I blink.

This isn't the Queen from this morning.

The Queen from this morning was a perfect corporate mask. Controlled. Measured. CEO in every gesture.

This Queen... laughs?

Floor 38.

“Was it difficult?” she asks.

“Not particularly.”

“Mmmmm.” She says it with clear amusement.

“It was work.”

“Very good work, ha ha ha.” She leans against the elevator wall. Casual. “It's just a word, but it seems like your NEET body is very devoted to rejecting it.”

“You have something there,” she points to my shoulder.

“What?”

She approaches. Without hesitation. Her fingers touch my shoulder. Lightly.

He picks something up between his index finger and thumb.

A hair. Long. Red.

He holds it up to his eyes. His expression changes. Subtly.

“Huh?”

“You don't have long hair or red hair, so it's a woman's hair,” he repeats. He studies the hair. Too long.

Floor 35.

“It's Yano-san's,” I say quickly. “She leaned on my shoulder when—”

“She leaned on you?” He raises an eyebrow. “On your shoulder?”

“Yes. But she didn't let me react. She said something about me not being a bad guy and—” I'm... nervous? I feel that strange pressure that Akari gives off when she's angry.

“Mmm.” She lets go of the hair. It falls to the floor. “Yano-san...”

Should I activate the furniture protocol? Or maybe the belly protocol?

“Oh, I know.” Her tone is strangely neutral. “She does that with people she likes. Very friendly. Our Yano.” The queen herself removes a strand of hair from her shoulder of the same color and length.

Silence.

I feel as if I have overcome a catastrophe.

“Perhaps too friendly,” she repeats. Looking where the hair fell. Somewhat reactive.

Perhaps the belly protocol isn't such a bad idea after all.

30th floor.

“Anyway,” he says, smiling again. Too brightly. “I watched the whole broadcast.”

He takes out his phone. He shows it to me. A video of a meeting room.

Oh no, they weren't just monitoring, they were broadcasting live? What kind of super camera was that?

“‘Help me understand why women don't like me,’” he quotes from the video, and Reina laughs.

Again.

“That was—” I begin, blushing.

“I know, I know.” She waves her hand. Still laughing. “But the way you said it. So... convincing.”

“I had to be believable—”

“Oh, you were. Nakamura-san immediately felt superior.” She laughs harder. “So predictable.”

She puts her phone away. Wipes the corner of her eye.

“I also saw when you tried to sabotage yourself at the start.”

I cringe.

“Dogs. Favorite food. Golf.” She counts on her fingers. Smiling. “Did you really think that would work?”

“It was worth a try—”

“That's why I left Akari nearby.” She leans back again. Relaxed. “I knew you might hesitate.”

“I didn't hesitate—”

“‘I BELIEVE IN SHON.’” She mimics the quiet shout. Then laughs. “The whole floor heard it.”

I blush completely.

“Akari has impressive lungs,” she continues. “And you have a sister who believes in you even when you sabotage yourself.”

Floor 25.

I look at this Queen with her bright eyes.

Sometimes I find it hard to believe that this CEO isn't just another 24-year-old girl like any other. Not that I care, really, I just want to leave.

“And the best part,” she says, interrupting my thoughts, “was at the end. With Nakamura-san.”

Her expression softens. Her smile becomes warmer.

“When they talked about that waitress.”

“—” She doesn't.

“It wasn't just to reject him, was it?”

I don't answer.

“It was to protect me in the future. So that when I went back to his father, there would be no complaints. So that he himself wouldn't want to come back.”

“—” I really don't know what to say, I only did it for Akari, but will she believe me if I say that?

“You were considerate.” She looks at me. Directly. “You thought about me. About my situation. Not just about the immediate work.”

20th floor.

“Thank you.”

“No, Reina, I didn't do anything to—”

“Shon.” She uses my name. Directly.

“Yes?” Again with the pressure, damn it, what did I do now?

“You should call me Reina-san.”

I blink.

“What?”

“Reina-san. Appropriate honorific. For your boss.”

“You're not my boss—”

“I am. I hired you.”

“I'm only doing this for Akari—”

“You're still working for me.” She crosses her arms. But she's smiling. “You should use -san.”

“No.”

“No?” She raises her eyebrows. Amused.

“No.”

“Why not? You use it with Akari.”

“Because she knows my weaknesses. I could wake up dead.”

“I could kill you too,” Reina looks at me.

“Not as long as I have Akari and Miki.”

A flash crosses Reina's gaze. Shon recognizes it, something similar to what happened to Nakamura, but even Shon could identify with that specific one.

“Egh,” says Reina, sweating a little. “Let's leave it at that, but you're very impertinent, you know that? Only Akari and Father call me Reina without honorifics.”

“I don't believe in superiority.”

“I know,” said Reina happily.

“Maybe I should tell Akari not to call you Reina-san~”

“Ugh... that was a low blow.”

“Hehehe~”

Floor 15.

He turns toward the doors. But he keeps smiling.

As if he can't stop.

“You know,” he says after a moment, “I saw something else in the recording.”

“Hmm?”

“Nakamura-san. After he left.”

He turns toward me.

“He was running.”

“Running?”

“Yes. Through the lobby. Toward the exit. Running.” His eyes shine. “As if he were in a hurry. As if he had somewhere important to be.”

Pause.

“He looked... so happy. So determined.”

His smile softens.

Something crosses his face.

“Damn, that should be their attitude when they come to see me,” Reina sighs. “All men should be that happy and determined to interact with me. Is it too much to ask for that excitement?”

He looks at me as if expecting something.

“I'm not going to run to the office,” Shon says without looking at her.

“Men.”

12th floor.

The elevator stops. The doors open.

She doesn't move.

She looks at the flowers in my hands.

“May I?” she asks. Soft voice.

“What?” She looks lost.

She approaches. Slowly.

Her fingers touch the bouquet.

She searches among them.

She doesn't take the first one.

She doesn't take the most intact one.

She searches. Carefully. As if it matters.

And she finds it.

A red rose. It's missing a petal. The stem is slightly bent. Imperfect.

“You know, Nakamura said I'd look bad with you, but...”

She takes it. Delicately.

He holds it up to the light of the elevator.

The red is deep. The imperfections are obvious.

But the way he holds it...

As if it were valuable.

As if it were perfect just as it is.

And then he looks at me.

Directly.

Our eyes meet.

And he smiles.

“It's not about whether you look bad or good with me...”

His eyes shine.

His face lights up.

“It's the girl...”

And for a moment, she is not Reina Kuroshima, owner of a corporate empire.

She's just Reina.

“...The one who decides in the end whether it's impossible or not. Everything else is secondary.”

A 24-year-old girl.

Holding a broken rose.

Smiling as if it were the most precious gift in the world.

“Thank you, Shon.”

Two words.

She steps back toward the open doors.

Still smiling.

Still holding the rose like a treasure.

“See you next week, Shon.”

“Shon, huh?” She forgot the honorific too.

The doors close.

I'm left alone.

With incomplete flowers.

10th floor.

8th floor.

This morning's Queen: CEO. Perfect mask. Absolute control. Cold professionalism.

The Queen of the elevator or the apartment: Laughter. Smiles. Human. Real.

Two people.

Same body.

Which one is real?

Both, probably.

And both are the person who are the Z in my equation.

Floor 1.

I leave the building.

The midday sun beats down on me.

Finally, I can go home.

But a message pops up on Shon's cell phone.

“Remember, Shon, you have to be here with Haruka at 3.” An emoji of a panda eating bamboo sent by Miki.

In the middle of the midday sun, you could see a young NEET kneeling on the floor cursing his luck.

somewhere else

“Did the guy in the suit come back?” whispered the old man at the bar, leaving his cup halfway down.

I stopped cleaning to look. He came in agitated, his hair tousled, and stopped short in front of Mia. She turned around, and with that smile that never leaves her face, she said softly, “Nakamura? It's been so long.”

He looked at her as if she were a miracle. Trembling slightly, he took a rose out of his pocket that looked like it had survived a war; it was missing petals and the stem was bent. He handed it to her with charming awkwardness and said,

“I need to start over. Would you tell me your name if I asked you to go out and talk right now?”

The old man chuckled softly and murmured: “Well, blood is finally flowing through his brain. Take care of Mia.”