Clash in Scheduling

Nothing, nothing, could have prepared Akira for what was about to happen.

He expected shouting, maybe a fine. Most probably a grounding protocol where he was forced to film for the media department. Like one of those stupid Feline Interviews where he talked with reporters and sat in the presence of a dozen or so cats.

He did not expect to be on the receiving end of the Rocketblast Board of Directors at 1:00 PM. And he certainly did not expect Ms. Saeki to be standing at the head of it, holding open a binder filled to the brim.

“Was the documentation really necessary?” he asked.

“Contained within this is my well-structured documentation of the infractions you have against Rocketblast LLC in the last 48 hours,” Saeki said, flipping a page. “Of which includes: unauthorized liquidation of assets, potential libel against a private citizen, lack of good faith negotiating, reckless endangerment of brand integrity—”

“I get it, I get it. The story right now isn’t as dire as you expect. I handled it.”

Akira looked around, unwilling to look his manager in the eye. In the corner was a girl with pink-streaked hair. Veronica. She really didn’t need to be sitting there like she was put in time-out.

“Did you now?” Ms. Saeki replied icily. 

Saeki pressed a button on the remote. The multi-screen wall behind her flickered to life.

Akira froze.

The video showed the hallway of the Sato apartment complex. It was hardly flattering for Akira. He looked like he was wailing on an older man for god knows what. The presence of his butler did him no favors.

“Uploaded by a relative of Hayami’s—likely that cousin you paid off,” Saeki said. “Seriously… you expected a family like that to have the honor to keep their word?”

Akira stared at the screen. “I… I didn’t see a phone.”

“Money doesn’t solve all your problems, Akira,” Saeki sighed.

The screen flashed to Rocketblast stocks, and the 24-hr trend did not look flattering. A steady drop-off that was likely attributed to Akira’s leaked video.

Akira’s fists clenched. “At the time, it was the only decision worth taking. I had to get Hayami out no matter what, and that required addressing the root cause of her problem.”

Saeki chuckled. “You could have not put cameras in the vents of a girl to begin with.”

“Hayami was in danger!”

“So what, you turn into some Rambo alpha male who takes matters into his own hands? That’s not your job, Akira. We have legal teams for that. And now you have to suffer the consequences for your actions. Funny how that works.”

Akira felt the heat rising in his neck.

“Saeki, why do you hate me?”

She blinked.

“I don’t hate you,” she said adamantly. “Don’t put words into my mouth.”

“Your actions speak for themselves. You track me, you control me—”

“I am your manager,” she stressed, slamming the binder shut. “My job is to manage your worst impulses. And because I am older and more experienced than you, I can tell whatever it is you have between you and Hayami… it’s just a fling.”

That hurt. It hit him harder than the legal threats.

“You’re using her as your last-minute rebellion before you are catapulted into stardom,” Saeki said. “You’re scared of the commitment to Veronica, so you’re acting out. You don’t like that your life is planned, so you found a girl who is 'real' to play house with. Am I wrong?”

“I disagree,” Akira said.

She scoffed.

It was at this point that one of the board member decided to intervene. “Now, your manager is gracious enough to try and settle for a renegotiation to subvert the narrative, but it may well be too late.”

She gestured to the Executive sitting in the shadows.

“This, compounding with your recent scandal with that other student at Golden Brooch, plus your blatant disregard for authority, has left us with little choice,” the board member said ominously.

Saeki stepped forward.

“The deal is this: you announce your fling with Hayami is over. Publicly. This didn’t really start before it began, so we nip it in the bud.”

“I can’t just ghost her,” Akira argued. “I… I made a deal. It wasn’t at all romantic, just a deal between friends. You guys understand trust and betrayal, right?”

Saeki narrowed her eyes.

“It’s over. You hear me?" she said with finality. No wriggling your way out of this, no getting your way. It's done."

Akira opened his mouth to argue, but Veronica stood up.

The chair scraped loudly against the floor. Veronica jumped, startled by her own noise.

“I… I was really looking forward to meeting you, Akira-senpai,” she stammered, wringing her hands. “I heard good things. That you are passionate. Seems like… seems like you really are.”

Veronica looked at him with big, watery eyes. Even Akira couldn't come up with a comeback.

“You are a sweet girl, Veronica,” Akira said. “You don’t deserve to put up with my shit.”

“No! Don't apologize!” she squeaked, bowing frantically. “I must improve to make myself worthy of you! I know I’m just a replacement, but I’ll work hard!”

'How could she think that she was the problem? '

He turned to face Saeki.

“Does this not seem weird to you people?” Akira asked, gesturing between himself and Veronica. “It’s like I’m part of an arranged marriage from the feudal era. How am I part of a relationship determined by people who are my co-workers?”

“That’s the game we play, son. To get you to where you need to, you need to make sacrifices,” a board member said.

“Like you’ve tried any alternatives!”

“It doesn’t matter, Akira. You signed a contract two years ago—”

“I was fifteen! I am nearly an adult now,” Akira protested, pointing at his chest. “I have feelings. Veronica has feelings! People in the West can get away with this stuff. Those American newcomers in the K-pop industry smoke marijuana and sniff cocaine at parties, for crying out loud. And they all still have a career afterwards!”

“Last I checked, Akira…” Saeki looked down at her skin. “We are not the West.”

The executive intervened. “People in the west… they view celebrities as singular, dominant, entities; free to act on their own desires. Here... we view celebrities as serving the community first, and themselves second. Imagine… the person who you support doing something so utterly vulgar. People here view you as a representation of themselves. Not a good feeling, right?”

He folded his hands.

“If you follow your desires, people get hurt. So tell me, Akira—who are we harming the most?”

“…Our shareholders,” he replied. “Our fans.”

“Exactly,” the board member replied. “As a publicly owned company, we answer to them. So take stock in the idea that you don’t need or get to choose. We’re simply following orders. And that makes things much simpler for us.”

“Now you’ve got me curious, Akira,” another board member said casually. “Who is this mystery woman again; this… femme fatale?”

Saeki was happy to oblige. “Sato Hayami. Fellow third-year at Golden Brooch High.”

“Ah, and she lives alone, right?”

“Yes.”

The board member jotted something down on his notepad. “Interesting…”

Akira gulped.

“Ms. Saeki,” the board member said again.

She perked up. “Sir?”

“Ensure that Akira experiences a safe, uneventful remainder of the year at Golden Brooch High.”

The board member bored into Akira’s eyes.

“Because we know you, Akira, from the moment you entered the ledgers of our recruitment system. We know there’s something you care about more than that girl.”

A pause.

“Without K-pop, what are you? Without people singing your praises, what are you?”

Akira had no response.