At 9:30 PM, Shiratori Seiya looked around at the flushed faces of the people at the table and couldn't help feeling grateful he hadn't reached the legal drinking age yet.
At first, everyone was still feeling each other out—especially with him, the non-drinker. They were all pretty reserved. But after Fujikawa Shunpei loosened them up with a few rounds and steered the conversation, their glasses barely stayed on the table for more than two minutes. It was like watching a shonen training montage, but with alcohol.
The pot-bellied investor drank the most. He probably loved the stuff on a normal day, but now he was face-down on the table, completely dead to the world.
The upside? He'd added another 20 million yen to the investment pot.
Shiratori Seiya had originally thought this drinking party was mainly to discuss future cooperation details. He hadn't expected it to turn into a fundraising event. The drama's production cost wasn't even that high to begin with—the TV station's investment from the earlier contract was more than enough.
He glanced at the several flushed faces, then leaned toward Fujikawa Shunpei.
"I'll go help call a car."
"Mm…"
Fujikawa rubbed his eyes with his palm and looked at him.
"Just call cars for Director Sakai and Producer Ono. I'll ring my assistant and leave with Asada-san later… hiccup."
"Thanks, X-Sensei."
Hearing that, Shiratori Seiya looked at him with some surprise.
He remembered Fujikawa had drunk just as much as that investor, Asada—yet he could still stay this coherent. Was this what they called a pro-level constitution?
Fujikawa seemed to read his thoughts. He reached out, patted Seiya's shoulder, and smiled faintly.
"You'll be like this too someday."
...
After leaving the izakaya, Shiratori Seiya stood at the entrance, took a deep breath of fresh air, and hailed two taxis by the roadside.
After giving the drivers instructions, he was about to head back inside when suddenly a figure burst through the door and crashed straight into him.
A strong wave of alcohol hit his nose. The pungent smell made him frown.
The impact must have been the other person's limit. She couldn't hold it anymore—she grabbed Shiratori Seiya's arm, lowered her head, and then…
Ugh!
"…"
Red-and-white liquid mixed with the sour stench of stomach acid soaked into his shirt. Shiratori Seiya froze.
He opened his mouth to say something, but the person's body twitched again.
This time he reacted. He pried her fingers off his arm, grabbed her hair, and angled her head to the side.
Ugh!
A series of wet splashes echoed in the air. A waiter inside noticed through the glass door and rushed out with a towel.
"Sir…"
Shiratori Seiya didn't hear what he said. Right now, he was staring at the woman whose head he was holding. For some reason, she looked vaguely familiar.
She vomited two more times, then seemed to completely lose her strength. Slowly, she bent over and crouched on the ground like a shrimp.
"Give me the towel."
Shiratori Seiya took a long look at the woman, frowned, grabbed the towel, and wiped the stains off his body. Not that it helped much—it was more of a symbolic gesture. But better than nothing.
Suppressing his disgust, he crouched beside her, reached out, pinched the back of her neck, and turned her face toward him.
Takahashi Miki.
Even with heavy makeup, those narrow viper-like eyes and that skinny, bony frame were hard to mistake.
Shiratori Seiya couldn't help but sigh. He felt a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Why was she here?
The vomiting seemed to have sobered her up a bit. Takahashi Miki let out a burp. There was still drool at the corner of her lips, but her eyes were much clearer now.
As Seiya studied her, she recognized him too.
She raised a hand, pointed at his face, and said:
"You're… Mio's boyfriend?"
The smell was really bad. Shiratori Seiya frowned.
"Why are you here?"
Just as he finished speaking, another figure rushed out from inside.
"Takahashi! Are you okay?"
The woman in a black suit asked anxiously. Then she saw the man standing next to Miki and froze. She glanced at their current posture.
"Who are you?"
Shiratori Seiya looked at her—clearly dressed like a talent manager—and said nothing.
"Cough, cough…"
Takahashi Miki, still crouching nearby, finally reacted. She stood up, took the towel from the waiter, and wiped her mouth.
"Minamida-san, this is my friend."
Hearing that, Minamida's expression shifted. She glanced at Takahashi Miki, hesitated, then said:
"I see… Takahashi, if this isn't working out, let's call it a night?"
"…"
Takahashi Miki opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something. Then she looked at Shiratori Seiya, and a helpless smile appeared on her thin face.
"I guess it'll have to be that way…"
"Okay. There's still Yuko-chan inside I need to take care of. Sorry to trouble your friend to see you home."
"Alright."
...
Watching the woman go back into the izakaya, Shiratori Seiya pieced together what was going on.
In Japan, one agent can handle multiple artists. Unless you're an A-list celebrity or have a special contract with a dedicated manager, Takahashi Miki's situation was totally normal. Just another day in the competitive survival game of showbiz.
Silence hung in the air for two seconds. Takahashi Miki looked at the mess she'd vomited all over him, her face burning with embarrassment. She clasped her hands together and bowed a full ninety degrees.
"Um… I'm so sorry, Shiratori-kun…"
Shiratori Seiya didn't answer. Instead, he asked:
"Why are you here?"
Hearing that, Miki straightened up. Her expression went from stunned to awkward. She rubbed her arm and laughed nervously.
"Uh… for a small fry like me, this kind of thing is totally normal."
Clearly not wanting to continue down that road, she rubbed her flushed face and asked back:
"Um, Shiratori-kun, what are you doing here?"
Just as she finished speaking, the glass door behind them swung open. Several people, helped along by a waiter, stumbled out from inside.
Fujikawa Shunpei didn't notice Takahashi Miki at first. He smiled at Shiratori Seiya and asked:
"X-Sensei, how are you getting home? Want to ride with me?"
Hearing that, Shiratori Seiya smiled and waved his hand.
"No need. I drove."
"Oh, oh. Drive safely, then. We'll see each other in a few days. Text me when you get home."
"Okay. You drive safe too."
Shiratori Seiya nodded, then looked at Sakai and Ono behind Fujikawa.
"The cars are all here, just over there."
"Thanks for your trouble, Shiratori-kun. Next time we'll have a good chat."
Director Sakai patted his shoulder, then he and Ono supported each other into the car.
…
Takahashi Miki stood frozen in place, blankly watching him casually interacting with everyone. Her head spun for a moment, and she quickly reached out to steady herself against the nearby wall.
After seeing them off, Shiratori Seiya stood in front of her and said calmly:
"Let's go."
"Oh… oh."
Takahashi Miki nodded, then dazedly climbed into Shiratori Seiya's car. She gave him her address, but her brain felt like a tangled mess of charging cables.
Neither of them spoke during the ride.
They arrived at the destination quickly. After apologizing again, Miki seemed to remember something and hurried upstairs in a panic, as if being chased by a yandere character.
Shiratori Seiya didn't even bother getting out of the car. He watched her stumble into the building, then drove off.
If Takahashi Miki weren't participating in the audition, he might have put in extra effort to make her keep quiet or something. But now? No need at all.
Enduring the sticky feeling on his body and the lingering vomit smell—seriously, this is worse than a bad anime gag—Shiratori Seiya returned home, quickly stripped off his clothes, and prepared to jump in the shower.
But just as he took off his shirt and was about to step into the bathroom, the doorbell rang.
He turned his head toward the door and didn't move.
Who would come this late?
Mio?
Or did Saori suddenly come back?
Feeling a bit suspicious, he wiped his upper body with a towel, threw on some clean clothes, and walked to the door.
"Who is it?"
He asked first out of habit, then tried to peek through the peephole—but found the other person was blocking it.
"Who is it?"
"Um… new neighbor. May I come say hello?"
Hearing that familiar voice, Shiratori Seiya's brain short-circuited. His head buzzed like an isekai protagonist getting hit by a truck. He flung the door open.
She clearly hadn't expected him to open it so suddenly. The girl standing at the door with her hand still covering the peephole flinched back.
Hōjō Shione reacted and lowered her arm.
She took a deep breath, as if gathering courage for a final boss battle.
Then, she lightly pressed her cherry lips together, took a step forward, her eyes filled with regret.
She looked at Shiratori Seiya, opened her mouth, swallowed the words that had been on the tip of her tongue, and tried to greet him casually—but her voice trembled anyway.
"L-long time no see, Seiya."