CHAPTER 17
"Izumi will be joining us as your new Assistant Producer to oversee the daily operations of the guerrilla lives alongside Mio," Daichi explained, his voice booming with a professional pride that sounded like a death knell to Kiyomi.
(Eh? What's going on?)
Daichi continued talking, his mouth moving as he went into the granular details of the new management structure and the upcoming schedule.
Kiyomi listened to none of it.
Every word from Daichi blurred as Izumi's presence filled the room; Kiyomi's vision narrowed, his focus trapped entirely on the boy before him.
Izumi didn't look away. He simply stood there, radiating calm, smiling at Kiyomi—a smile that looked perfectly professional to everyone else, but felt like a predatory grin to him.
(Is this a dream?)
At first, only Miyu noticed his silence.
Then Renge and Mio's eyes drifted toward him.
Eventually, the heavy silence from the corner of the table reached Daichi himself. The producer stopped mid-sentence and turned fully toward Kiyomi.
"Sakura-chan?" he asked, his brow furrowing.
Kiyomi didn't answer.
He couldn't process what he was seeing. The fluorescent lights of the agency seemed too bright, the air too thin. The moment felt unreal—like a nightmare he desperately wished he could wake up from.
Miyu reached over and tapped his arm. The small touch finally snapped Kiyomi back to reality. He blinked, his head turning to see the faces around the table—confused, worried, and waiting for him to speak.
"Sakura-chan, are you okay?" Miyu asked, her hand still resting on his sleeve.
"Huh?" Kiyomi replied, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears.
"Do you need some rest?" Daichi asked, his tone softening with concern.
"I—" Kiyomi couldn't finish the sentence. The words were stuck in his throat, choked by the realization that his only sanctuary had just been invaded.
"Izumi, take her home," Daichi ordered, turning to his nephew. "Show them that you're committed to Cerb-3ros. Get Sakura-chan home."
Izumi snapped a salute, a prideful, boyish smile on his face that masked the monster beneath.
"Aye, sir!"
(Izumi? No way!)
"It's fine. I can go home on my own," Kiyomi said, his chair screeching against the floor as he stood up, desperate to put distance between himself and the newcomer.
Izumi stepped toward him, closing the space with effortless ease that made Kiyomi's skin crawl. He extended his hand—an offer of "help" that felt more like a summons.
"I can walk on my own," Kiyomi said, his voice sharper than he intended as he refused Izumi's hand.
He turned toward the door, his heart a chaotic mess.
On one hand, Kiyomi feared Izumi and the total control he now held over him.
On the other hand, a dark, traitorous spark flickered inside his chest.
He felt excited.
Izumi followed him out of the office, his footsteps steady and rhythmic behind Kiyomi's. They moved together through the cool evening air toward the station. The city lights buzzed softly, but the space between them was heavy, loaded with everything left unsaid.
"Is there something on your mind, Sakura-chan?" Izumi asked, his voice casual, as if they were just two colleagues walking home.
Kiyomi swallowed hard, the lump in his throat refusing to move.
(No… I… Why are you here? Why Inferno Talent of all places?)
"I think you do have something you want to ask…" Izumi added, tilting his head slightly to catch Kiyomi's gaze.
"I just…" Kiyomi stopped, the words feeling too dangerous to voice in the open air.
"Go on…"
"Just… thinking."
"You don't have to think, Sakura-chan… I'm the assistant producer now. Leave all the thinking to me," Izumi said, a slow smirk curling across his lips.
Kiyomi stopped abruptly. Izumi did the same, turning to face him fully. Their eyes met beneath the pale glow of a streetlamp. Kiyomi's chest tightened, his fingers curling into fists as his heart threatened to leap from his ribcage.
"Why are you doing this?" Kiyomi asked, his voice cracking. He shut his eyes, unable to bear the intensity of Izumi's stare.
"Doing what? Walking you?" Izumi replied, amusement threading through his tone. He seemed to be savoring every second of Kiyomi's distress.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about…"
(Why me?)
Izumi didn't answer immediately. His gaze drifted to their surroundings, scanning the sidewalk. A few passersby flicked curious eyes in their direction, but no one lingered long enough to notice—the idol girl and the handsome young man engaged in a charged, silent confrontation.
He exhaled slowly, letting his posture relax as if the weight of the day had finally caught up to him.
"I'll leave you alone… for now," he said quietly.
Without another word, Izumi melted into the crowd, leaving Kiyomi frozen in place. He stood motionless for a long moment before forcing his legs to move, trudging to the station alone.
When he reached home, the silence of the empty rooms pressed in on him. He didn't turn on the lights. He went straight to his bed, collapsing onto the sheets without even thinking about dinner. Darkness swallowed him whole, heavy and complete.
The studio lights flared to life, and Airi leaned toward the camera with her trademark grin. "Welcome back, everyone! Today, we're chatting with the dogs of Inferno, Cerb-3ros!"
She clapped her hands playfully.
"Pachi pachi pachi~" The sound rippled through the studio as the staff and the other members joined in the applause.
Kiyomi smoothed the edge of his white dress, the weekend sun outside forgotten as the studio lights bounced off their matching idol outfits.
"Okay... first off—" Airi started.
"You're not going to congratulate us first?" Miyu cut her off, teasing her with a sharp smile.
Airi looked shook. She turned to the camera and giggled, hands on her waist in a mock-offended pose.
"Excuse me?" she said. "Who do you think is the host here?"
"Airi-chan!" a staff member shouted from behind the monitors, trying to keep the show on track.
"No!" Renge shouted back, standing up abruptly. His hand was already clamped over his left eye in a dramatic pose. "We are all hosts to the Abyss!"
"Whatever, just sit down Renge-chan..."
Renge sat back hesitantly as a few staff members laughed at his commitment to the bit.
"Okay... Congratulations for getting second place in the Fujimori Amateur Idol Competition," Airi said. Everyone clapped again, this time in earnest. "Now, this is the spicy stuff. According to online polls, you girls are more popular than the Aurora Prism that defeated you. My question is: why did you get second place instead of first?"
Miyu immediately answered without hesitation.
"Some in the chat might not know this, but an idol competition isn't a popularity contest... Aurora Prism's performance was simply cleaner than ours. With that being said, it doesn't mean we're going to stay second."
Airi leaned closer, her curiosity piqued.
"You have a plan?"
Miyu nodded.
"Sis, spill!"
"Sakura-chan came up with the plan," Miyu whispered, leaning toward the mic.
Everyone's gaze turned toward Kiyomi, the cameras panning over to capture his reaction. But he wasn't paying attention. His gaze had been locked on someone else standing in the shadows of the wings.
(Izumi is sharing a drink with Mio... Isn't he embarrassed? Isn't it an indirect kiss? But I kissed him first!)
Miyu, sensing the silence, tapped his shoulder once.
"Sakura-chan?"
"Ah, yes..." Kiyomi snapped back to the interview, his face shifting into a smile with practiced ease.
"Actually, you might prefer to listen to our plan from me," Renge stood again before Kiyomi could formulate a lie. He walked proudly to the front, and the main camera zoomed in on his face. He smirked, placing his hands on his waist. "Behold, dwellers of the light!" He made an exaggerated gesture toward the lens. "Cerb-3ros has been ordained by the Abyss to preach its messages through music!"
"The Abyss told you that?" Airi prompted, trying to keep a straight face.
"Yes!" Renge replied with magnanimous faith as he returned to his chair with a graceful, sweeping motion.
"But earlier Miyuko-chan said it's Sakura-chan's idea?" Airi asked again.
(Wait? What plan did I come up with?)
Kiyomi froze for a heartbeat, realizing the spotlight had returned to him.
"That is because the Abyss spoke through her," Renge quickly corrected, shielding Kiyomi from further questioning. "This is how we know that Cerb-3ros has been chosen for higher purposes."
"Higher purposes?" Airi asked. "You mean you're just high?"
"Look, I don't want to be rude but..." Renge paused, looking at her with faux pity. "Your spiritual bandwidth might be too weak to receive transmissions from the Abyss."
Airi stared at him for a long, silent moment.
"Chat," she said slowly. "Should we call an exorcist or a psychiatrist?"
The studio burst into laughter. The live chat on the monitors started spamming emojis and memes. The interview continued for a bit longer, the tension of the "plan" safely buried under Renge's performance, until Airi finally ended the segment with a cheerful "Bau Bau!"
Outside the studio, the evening air was cool, carrying the faint scent of exhaust and distant city rain. The parking lot was mostly empty, most of the staff and members already dispersed into the night.
Kiyomi moved quickly, a pale blur of white fabric, his heart hammering against his ribs. He glanced around one last time, making sure no one—not Miyu, not a lingering fan—had followed him.
Satisfied, he pulled open the door of the sleek white sports car and slipped inside.
The interior smelled of expensive leather and a sharp, clean cologne that made Kiyomi's head spin slightly. He shut the door behind him, the heavy thud sealing the quiet space around them.
Kiyomi turned toward the driver's seat, his expression tense.
"What do you want, Izumi?"