Chapter 90. Dober's Problem
Following behind Mejiro Dober, Shuta An stepped into the private KTV room. It was his first time experiencing a Japanese karaoke setting, and his gaze moved subtly across the space—equipment, layout, song system—quietly taking in every unfamiliar detail with a hint of curiosity.
While Mejiro Dober went to the front desk to arrange their session, he settled onto the sofa and casually scrolled through his phone.
As expected, nearly every headline was dominated by Special Week. Images, interviews, projections—her presence saturated the media. Yet in Shuta An's eyes, the scale of attention still fell short of what Silence Suzuka had commanded the previous year. Back then, victory intertwined with injury had created a far more explosive narrative.
"Special Week: Aiming for Senior Oguri Cap, I will defend the Japan Cup!"
"Strange choice of comparison," he murmured, raising an eyebrow. "Why not mention El Condor Pasa, who actually won it last year?"
Another headline caught his attention—Nishizaki Ryu's so-called "shocking declaration." Upon opening it, the content proved far less dramatic than advertised.
"Special Week's next goal is to dominate the Japan Cup and the Arima Kinen."
"That's supposed to be shocking?" Shuta An let out a faint scoff. "Oguri already did that."
But just as quickly, his expression stilled.
"No. Only Oguri has done it."
The weight of that realization settled quietly in his mind.
Competing across the Tenno Sho (Autumn), the Japan Cup, and the Arima Kinen was one thing—winning all three was something else entirely. Each represented a peak within its own domain: domestic supremacy, international confrontation, and ultimate prestige.
"It's not something that can be replicated so easily."
He set his phone aside just as footsteps approached the door.
"Free Time mode. Unlimited drinks," Mejiro Dober said as she entered, answering his earlier question. She paused slightly before adding, "Trainer is there anything you'd like to sing?"
"I'll pass,"
Shuta An replied lightly, handing her the microphone instead.
"Today is for your Winning Live practice. I'll handle the logistics—songs, drinks, everything else."
After the drinks were delivered and the playlist arranged, the session began. Song after song flowed, including two of Mejiro Dober's own releases—already available in the system.
"They even have these here," Shuta An noted. "Do you receive royalties from this?"
She shook her head. "No. It's not included in the statements."
"That's a loss."
His tone remained casual, but the thought lodged itself firmly in his mind. Contracts, distribution rights—details like these mattered. He would not overlook them in the future.
Time passed. After more than ten songs, Mejiro Dober finally lowered the microphone and, without ceremony, pressed it into his hands.
"I can't sing anymore—I need a break."
Shuta An glanced up at her, noting the fatigue in her expression, then nodded. "Alright. I'll just play something random."
True to his words, his own singing ability left much to be desired. It wasn't unbearable—but it was far from refined.
Mejiro Dober picked up her drink, took a long sip, and exhaled deeply.
"I'm alive again…"
He heard the quiet murmur, though he didn't respond immediately. For a moment, silence lingered between them.
Then she spoke again.
"Trainer—this is the most relaxed I've felt since leaving the Academy."
That made him pause.
"Is the pressure from the Mejiro Family still that heavy?" he asked.
"It hasn't changed fundamentally," she replied, lowering her gaze. "The prize money helped—but only temporarily."
There was a brief hesitation before she continued.
"Some elders have already started discussing marriage."
Shuta An's brows lifted immediately.
"Marriage? You're still in your Classic season. That's far too early."
"They don't think so." A faint trace of grievance slipped into her voice. "They say—since the other party would marry into the family anyway, earlier is better."
"What about the Old Madam?"
"She hasn't said anything." Mejiro Dober looked up at him, her expression conflicted. "But everyone knows. They all know."
He understood instantly.
Her condition—her inability to comfortably interact with men—was no secret within the family. And yet, despite that, the topic had still been raised.
"That's unreasonable."
He reached out instinctively, placing a hand on her shoulder to steady her.
"What do you want me to do?"
The moment his hand made contact, her body stiffened. Even now, despite everything, such closeness overwhelmed her senses. Her thoughts scattered, words breaking apart before they could form.
Recognizing it immediately, Shuta An withdrew his hand.
"Calm down."
After a few seconds, her breathing steadied. She pressed her lips together before speaking again, voice quieter now.
"Trainer, can you help me make them stop?"
"Stopping them now won't solve the root issue," he replied evenly. "Delaying it only postpones the same problem."
"Then what are you suggesting?" she asked, though doubt flickered in her eyes. "No… I must be overthinking."
"No." Shuta An shook his head, a faint smile forming—not teasing, but deliberate.
"You're not overthinking it." He leaned back slightly, his tone calm yet resolute. "There is a way to make them stop bringing it up."
Even after leaving the KTV, Shuta An still did not explain how he intended to resolve Mejiro Dober's family troubles.
"Just focus on your training at the Academy. I'll definitely settle this for you before the end of the year."
After sending her back to Central Tracen Academy, Shuta An patted his chest lightly, his tone steady, carrying an unquestionable confidence.
"Alright."
Though countless questions lingered in her heart, Mejiro Dober ultimately chose silence. Trust, built over time, outweighed her hesitation. After stepping out of the car, she bowed gently.
"I'll leave it to the Trainer."
"Don't worry."
Shuta An waved it off, watching as her figure passed through the academy gates. Only after she disappeared from sight did he start the engine again and drive away.
—
With work early the next morning, and with neither Oguri Cap nor Berno Light at home, Shuta did not return to his usual residence. Instead, he headed to the apartment he had rented nearby.
Upon entering, he changed into loungewear, casually tossing the clothes he had worn during the day into the washing machine. As the machine began its steady rotation, he stepped into the bathroom.
Dinner had been skipped entirely. After leaving the KTV, he had driven Dober straight back without pause, leaving no time to eat. Yet hunger did not touch him now. His thoughts were fully occupied, circling a single problem—how to approach the Mejiro Family.
From any angle he examined it, the situation made little sense. There was no clear beneficiary if Mejiro Dober were pushed into an early engagement, taking in a husband under such conditions. The logic simply did not hold; no rational party would willingly invest in such an arrangement without return.
"Unless it's an obsessive admirer—" he muttered inwardly. "But marriage isn't a fleeting gesture—it's a lifelong contract. Would anyone truly throw away their entire future for nothing more than a title?"
He found it difficult to believe. Even so, he could not completely dismiss the possibility.
"If something like that existed, it wouldn't escape Miss Ramonu's notice."
With that thought, he sent a message to Mejiro Ramonu through Line, asking directly about the matter.
By the time he finished bathing and retrieved his phone, a reply had already arrived.
"How could that possibly be the case? It's just that the old folks are worried Dober might try to cling to you, and they feel unbalanced about it."
"Pfft."
The sound escaped him before he could stop it. A faint laugh followed as he typed his response.
"With all due respect, the Mejiro name isn't enough to bind me."
"Of course, I know that," came the reply, accompanied by a subtle sigh. "That's precisely why I've never entertained such thoughts."
Ramonu set her phone aside, her gaze lowering slightly.
"I actually hope Dober could be ruthless enough to sever ties—so she can pursue what she truly wants."
Yet even as she said it, she understood clearly—such a decision would not come easily to Mejiro Dober.
"Let the old guard stir trouble if they must," she murmured, stretching slightly. "If it pushes her to the brink, then perhaps Shuta-kun and I can intervene and guide her away from it all."
Her expression softened, carrying a quiet resignation.
"One Triple Tiara bearer sinking in this mire is already enough. There's no need for another to be dragged down with it."
Meanwhile, Shuta set his phone aside, removed the spun-dry clothes from the washing machine, and hung them neatly. With that done, he went to bed.
Today had been the Tenno Sho (Autumn), and tonight, in the Dream World, he would ride in that same race once more.
Tokai Teio's autumn campaign would begin with the Japan Cup. For this Tenno Sho (Autumn), Shuta An chose to mount Let's Go Tarquin, a horse closely tied to the Shadai Farm system. It was the same horse he had ridden during the Tanigawadake Stakes, part of his remarkable streak of nine consecutive victories in a single day at Niigata Racecourse within the Dream World.
Although Trainer Hirotsugu Hashiguchi had originally promised to return Let's Go Tarquin to jockey Osaki—whose mount Shuta An had once taken—circumstances had shifted.
With Shadai's main jockey left without a ride, Yoshida Katsumi intervened without hesitation, instructing Hashiguchi to assign the horse to Shuta An once again. As a result, Osaki could only watch the race unfold from another racecourse, powerless to intervene.
Even with Shuta An in the saddle, Let's Go Tarquin was only ninth in popularity, carrying odds of 32.1. His past performances—three second-place finishes in graded races and a single open-class victory after the Tanigawadake Stakes—were respectable, but this was the Tenno Sho (Autumn), the pinnacle of middle-distance competition in Japan. It was an entirely different battlefield.
"Even if Shuta An managed to defeat Mihono Bourbon with Rice Shower, Let's Go Tarquin lacks that kind of long-distance endurance."
This sentiment circulated widely.
Following the Kikuka Sho, debates had erupted across the industry. Some argued that Shuta An's victory had been opportunistic, aided by Kyoei Arrow's pace. Yet more voices rose in opposition.
"If a four-length victory is still dismissed as 'taking advantage,' then I look forward to seeing whether Mihono Bourbon can reclaim her honor in next year's Spring Tenno Sho."
The words of Trainer Association President Yasuhiro Suzuki cut through the noise with finality, silencing dissent across both training centers.
"I was outmatched."
Toyama Tameo's public admission was brief, but heavy. Soon after, he disappeared from the training grounds altogether. Rumors spread that his health had declined, and that he had been hospitalized.
Shuta An could only hope that was not the case. He held no objections to Toyama Tameo's philosophy, nor to his strict approach toward jockey management. On the contrary, he respected the man deeply.
For this Tenno Sho (Autumn), Let's Go Tarquin drew gate number two.
With both Mejiro Palmer and Daitaku Helios—two notorious runaway front-runners—entered in the same race, Hashiguchi had given clear instructions beforehand:
"Even from gate two, stay behind the pack. Heaven knows what kind of suicidal pace those two idiots will set."
Shuta An had observed those two often enough to understand. Their races rarely allowed for moderation, and once they fought for the lead, restraint became nonexistent.
"A high-tempo race isn't ideal for Teio and those two won't slow down midway to conserve energy. Their pace is even more extreme than Suzuka's."
He shook his head slightly.
"Hopefully neither of them makes it into the Japan Cup. As for the Arima Kinen—we'll deal with that when it comes."
He had never been one to dwell excessively on future uncertainties.
After guiding Let's Go Tarquin into the starting gate, while the remaining horses were still being loaded, Shuta An cast a brief glance to either side—Mr. Spain in gate one, Mejiro Palmer in gate three.
Relief flickered quietly within him.
"It's fortunate we're not contesting the lead today—otherwise, having Mejiro Palmer right here would be a headache I'd rather avoid."
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