Amagi Brilliant Park - Volume 8 - Chapter 1

1: Kanie Seiya Has No Drive 

The class representative spoke, her back to the blackboard. “Um, so by majority vote, our class will be running a cafe.” 
This announcement was met with sporadic applause. The writing on the blackboard said: “Cafe: 12 votes. Maid Cafe: 8 votes. Butler Cafe: 5 votes. Sumo Cafe: 2 votes.” Every option was some kind of cafe. 
What the hell even is a ‘Sumo Cafe’? Kanie Seiya wondered. He was gazing ahead blankly with his head on his desk, seated in the center seat of the class’s front row. He’d spent most of homeroom dozing, so he hadn’t heard the descriptions given by the presenters. He missed his old seat in the last row next to the window; the so-called “protagonist seat.” They’d changed seating at random during the start of the second term, and this was where Seiya had ended up. It was the worst seat possible for him... 
Being right in front of the teacher meant that he couldn’t check the park’s accounts or employee schedules for the various areas. Nor could he respond to emails. This location made it harder to nap, too; the best he could do was a little daydreaming in homeroom. With elbows on the desk and head resting on top of them, he could assume an “awake-like posture” and get in a very welcome five to ten minutes. 
The culture festival, huh... he mused. The most annoying event of the year. I don’t have time for those ridiculous “everyone comes together!” rites of passage. 
But cafes... that reminds me. The tasting for the cafe corner is tonight. Can we really sell a simple cake set for 800 yen? Maybe I should make it cheaper... 
Ah, no... I need to rest my mind for now. Need to space out, he told himself. Space out... 
The class representative kept talking. “Since we’ve decided to do a cafe, we need to choose roles. Waitresses, waiters, people to make hot drinks, people to make posters... that kind of thing.” 
She’s forgetting accounts, Seiya thought, but of course, he didn’t say it. Speaking up now would be like kicking a hornet’s nest; the whole class would look at him and say, “Okay, Kanie-kun, you do the accounts.” It was best to stay inconspicuous, like a flounder lying on the bottom of the ocean. 
Still, the way the class representative was going about it just got under his skin. She clearly had no experience running a cafe and no idea what roles were needed. Since the teacher typically stepped out during homeroom, there was no one to correct her. The obvious roles like waiters and waitresses were chosen immediately, but they didn’t even get to the more important things. She left role selection unfinished as she turned to things like planning the menu, how to put together uniforms, and other things that would be better off left until later. At this rate, it was clear that their rep’s time was going to spill out past homeroom. 
Seiya couldn’t take it anymore. I don’t have time for this. There’s a project meeting at the park at 4:00, and I don’t want to be late... 
“...Ugh,” Seiya sighed, and then wished he hadn’t when the class representative noticed immediately. 
“Kanie-kun. Is something the matter?” she asked. 
“...No,” he said reluctantly, “nothing in particular.” 
“It doesn’t look that way to me,” the class representative pushed. “I’d love to hear your opinion, if you have one.” 
“I don’t.” The whole class was looking at him. Kanie had always had a beautiful voice; just those few words were enough to get all eyes on him. 
“Don’t be like that. There’s something on your mind, right?” 
“......” She’s left me with no choice, Kanie realized. If he didn’t say something, he’d be straining the limits of what polite society would allow. “Ah... well, first... shouldn’t you choose leaders for each section?” 
“What do you mean?” the class representative asked. 
“...You’re just letting people call their own roles at random,” he pointed out reluctantly. “When you open a restaurant like this... well, it’s only for two days, so I guess it doesn’t matter, but this is basically what you do: You choose ‘venue construction,’ ‘preparation of wares,’ ‘customer service’—which you’ve been discussing now—‘publicity,’ then ‘accounts’ and ‘complaints.’ Then, you need a manager to oversee it all and his or her assistant. That’s eight people in total. Most places would double-up for cost reasons, but going by the book should be fine since it’s just a culture festival.” In a real restaurant, it wouldn’t be unusual to have a single person playing all those roles at once. “Of course, each section has an important job,” he went on. “Costumes for waitresses and such should be submitted by the ‘customer service’ section. Then ‘accounts’ should review everything carefully to make sure it’s within budget, and... ah. Ahem.” He could feel the eyes of everyone staring at him. 
Seiya snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m just babbling. Forget what I said.” He tried to go silent and withdraw again, but apparently, that wasn’t going to be allowed. 
“You’re amazing, Kanie-kun!” someone said. 
“Let’s do that stuff he said!” someone else added. 
Seiya wasn’t sure, but he felt like he was being showered with praise. It wasn’t a response he was used to receiving. Still, at least this way, they’ll pick the roles and get homeroom over with... he was thinking. 
But then, another classmate chimed in: “Hey, I know! Kanie-kun should be the manager!” 
Crap, Seiya thought glumly. This is why I always keep silent. Out loud, he said, “No, I... I really can’t. Um...” 
“That’s right,” the class representative said excitedly. “If you know so much about it, you should run our cafe. You’ll do it, right? You’ll do it, right?!” Everyone was staring at him. So much pressure... it was hard for him to just brush it all aside. 
But...! Seiya meant to turn them down flat. The idea was preposterous; he already had his hands full with the park. Manage the school’s culture festival? Ridiculous! 
Don’t be stupid, he wanted to say. I’m supposed to take precious time out of my day to help you people play restaurant? Do you know how many problems my suffering park still needs to have solved? I may get paid 850 yen an hour, but I deserve 5,000 at least! Even 10,000 would be a bargain! Are you gonna pay me that? You can’t, can you?! Yet here you are, pushing me into the role! You idiots! 
Of course, he couldn’t say that. The school didn’t know that he was acting manager at AmaBri; almost nobody knew. If his double life was as a member of a secret mercenary squad, he might at least feel a little bit cool about it, but he was just putting out fires for some lousy amusement park. It was utterly unimpressive, and he didn’t want to talk about it. 
All he had to do was say “no,” coldly and bluntly, as he had done in every other aspect of his high school life. It’s not as if they could think less of him; he’d conducted himself this way all this time. Everyone hated him as a result, and he was fine with that. 
That’s why even Seiya was surprised when he found himself saying: “I see. ...Okay, I’ll do it.” 
They must have been expecting him to refuse, because they all seemed stunned by his response. Manager for a mock cafe at a culture festival... it shouldn’t be that difficult a job. Carving out one hour per day for it should be all that was needed. He’d be all tied up during the festival days themselves, but he could probably work it out. 
It was the change of heart that surprised him. Ah, it should be fine, was the last response he’d expected to give. He’d spent all these months reminding himself that the park had to come first. Yet somehow, he’d found himself thinking, what’s the harm? It’ll work out, right? It’s not like I’m getting three million people, anyway, and I came up with a better solution just the other day. If I can get it to work, then I won’t need to scramble like before. It was this feeling that had inspired him to say, “Okay, I’ll do it.” 
“Huh? Kanie-kun? Are you serious?” the class representative asked, clearly not expecting Seiya to accept. 
“Hmm...” Seiya thought it over again. Was he serious? But... really, what was the big deal? Actually, it might prove to be a welcome change of pace. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll do it.” 

Only ten minutes later, the rumors had spread all throughout school, traveling by word of mouth, LINE, and other minor social media programs: the high-and-mighty perpetual loner, Kanie Seiya, was taking a job for the culture festival. And as manager, at that! The class 2-4 cafe would be something to watch. What had led to that change of heart? Did he have some kind of scheme going? 
“I was in Kanie-kun’s class in first year. He never seemed like the team player type to me,” said a gossipy girl from class two to Sento Isuzu. They were standing around the shoe cabinets on the way out of school. 
Isuzu couldn’t believe her ears. Seiya-kun is doing what? Putting his park work on the back-burner to manage some culture festival’s trivial (sorry) fake cafe? 
“...What’s wrong, Isuzu-san?” the gossipy girl asked innocently. 
“Oh. Nothing...” There was no surprise for her to hide; Isuzu’s face was always impassive. 
Still, she couldn’t understand it—this was a crucial time for the park. The peak season for summer vacation was at an end, and things would get colder as they moved from autumn into winter. Colder weather meant fewer guests, which meant they’d need to work even harder if they wanted to get close to that unreasonable three million attendance number (although it seemed unreachable, even so). 
And now he wanted to manage the culture festival? Isuzu found herself nervous and worried, more so than angry. She would have to question him about this later. 
“Anyway, what have you got for our class project?” the gossipy girl chattered on. “The yakisoba museum... I can’t think of any original dishes.” 
“Yakisoba museum” was the project that Isuzu’s class had decided on. The menu was all yakisoba, with an emphasis on presenting a wide variety—Osaka-style, Kyoto-style, Tokyo-style, etc. They also wanted to include some original yakisoba concepts, so the class would pitch their own during the next meeting. 
“Really? I have, myself...” Isuzu had a plan: Whole cucumber yakisoba. It was a simple yakisoba with a whole cucumber nested on top. A brilliant idea, if she did say so herself. When thinking of what to offer your customers, you should always think first about what you yourself would want. This one, then, would surely be well received. They might run out of stock, even. They’d need to secure a large number of cucumbers. 
“Wow, you seem pretty confident,” said her gossipy classmate. “Tell me what it is!” 
“All right... But you’ll keep it a secret, won’t you?” Isuzu didn’t want other people hearing her incredible original idea; someone might try to steal it. Once the whole cucumber yakisoba was a proven hit, she might even try adding it to AmaBri’s snack bar menu. 
“Ah... sure. I won’t tell.” 
“Good. This is just between you and me, then...” Isuzu explained. 
The girl’s eyes went wide, her mouth dropped open, and her expression changed to an awkward smile. “Ah... er. That’s... nice? But a whole cucumber is... it’s a lot, isn’t it?” 
“Hardly,” Isuzu scoffed. “One whole cucumber is, if anything, too little. But given the profit margins required, I determined that a single cucumber was most practical.” 
“I... I see.” 
“I’m sorry to repeat myself, but please don’t tell anyone.” 
“R-Right. I won’t tell anyone.” 
“If you ask me, it’s the only menu item we’ll need,” Isuzu asserted confidently. 
“Y-You... you think, huh?” 
She noticed that her classmate’s expression looked exactly like Muse’s when the three stooges of AmaBri shared a dirty joke with her. I wonder why... 
“Ah, anyway... look!” Her friend, forcing a change of subject, pointed to a bus on the road passing in front of the school gate. It was covered in a full-color advertisement; on its side was a large print of a woman in a bikini. The image was cut off from the chin up, so you couldn’t see her face. It wasn’t quite to the point of vulgarity, but it was an evocative image that emphasized her cleavage and her waist. The Elementario girls could be seen in the background, playing around in swimsuits. 
Beside the pinup-like image was a statement in easy-to-read bold font: “Autumn is for food! Autumn is for... pools?! The Dead Pool is open in autumn! Amagi Brilliant Park!” They’d erected a basic metallic frame and tent around the outdoor pool to convert it into an indoor one. It wouldn’t withstand the cold of mid-winter, but it could at least stay heated through November or so. That’s why they were advertising it as being ‘open for autumn.’ It was an idea pitched by the Splash Ocean cast, who always saw their numbers drop dramatically after summer pool season was over. Most amusement parks wouldn’t be capable of such a feat, but with the Mogute Clan working for them, AmaBri could get it done; Seiya had given the go-ahead immediately. 
Of course, as head of the secretarial department, Isuzu knew about the bus. But this was her first time seeing it in the wild. She personally disliked the design, which had been prepared by the head of administration, Tricen... but she’d been forced to approve it. She couldn’t deny that it drew the eye, when it even drew hers. 
“AmaBri’s doing an indoor pool,” said her friend. “We’ve been talking about going some time.” 
“I see,” Isuzu said noncommittally. “That’s... good.” 
“Want to come along?” 
“I’m not sure. It will depend on my shifts at work. If I can go, I will.” That’s what Isuzu said, but she typically ended up bowing out every time. She felt bad for her classmates, but she really did mean it when she said she would go if she could. The fact was, she simply didn’t have a choice. 
“Oh, sure. I’ll let you know when we’ve picked the day. But... that’s really something, huh?” She was gazing at the bikini-clad body plastered huge on the side of the bus. “I wonder if she’s foreign. She’s curvy, right? Totally stacked.” 

“.........I see.” 
“It’s honestly pretty gross,” Isuzu’s friend confided. 
“......” Ah. Gross, is it? Isuzu was quietly hurt, but she couldn’t say anything. 
“The fact that they only show her from the neck down means she’s super ugly, I bet,” her friend said with a laugh. 
“...Perhaps she is,” Isuzu agreed. You’re talking to her from the neck up, you know, she wanted to say. But of course, she couldn’t. The costs for a local bus advertisement were prohibitive, and the speedy indoor pool setup had run up quite a bill, too. That meant they didn’t have the money to hire a swimsuit model... which meant Isuzu had been required once more to ‘take one for the team.’ The swimsuit PV she’d shot months ago in March was still online (the hits had broken 300,000), and a few of the boys around school seemed to have realized it was her. She could feel them undressing her with their eyes from time to time. The next time something like this came up, she would turn them down flat. That’s right... next time. 
But... when Seiya told her to do something, she found it impossible to refuse. Isuzu felt deeply indebted to him, and in addition, she also knew that what she was doing would benefit the park. Still, shouldn’t he show her a bit more consideration? As a secretary, of course. As a subordinate. 

“Okay, ron. Let’s put our hands together...” Fairy of Music, Macaron, said to the girls of the idol(?) unit, Task Force ABC. “Follow after me, ron. ‘Book of Ezekiel, chapter 25, verse 17...’ Okay!” 
“Um, Book of Ezekiel, chapter 25, verse 17...” Adachi Eiko, Bando Biino, and Chujo Shiina echoed him hesitantly. 
“... ‘The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men,’ ron. Okay!” 
“The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men!” The three girls chorused together. 
The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. 
“...‘And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!’ Okay!” 
“‘A-And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee!’” It had sounded like a peaceful prayer at first, but it ended with fire and brimstone. 
“Okay,” Macaron beamed. “We’ve got our pre-show prayer down pat. It’ll be a success for sure, ron.” 
“It is a lovely idea,” Eiko said. “Although I have never heard that particular prayer before...” 
“I don’t recognize it either, but I think it’s pretty cool!” Biino said. 
“Isn’t that from Pulp Fiction? The scene before he shoots the drug dealer?” Shiina said. 
“Oh, good eye, Shiina-chan! ...Wait, how old are you again, ron?” 
“I-I’m fifteen... but, why are we practicing prayers, again?” she asked. 
“I decided to take a page out of Michael Jackson’s book and say a prayer before we perform. But since I’m not a Christian, so I don’t know any Bible verses. So I decided to just pull one from a movie scene I like, ron.” The woolly sheep Macaron raised his head up proudly. 
“That’s not much of an explanation...” Shiina grumbled. 
“Incidentally, Maple Land is polytheistic, so we’re all pretty chill about that stuff, ron. The Goddess Libra tacitly approves too, ron.” 
“Ahh.” 
“Anyway, you guys have your big live show tonight, ron. Give it your best, ron!” 
“Okay!” the girls cheered. 
Task Force ABC had a live event scheduled for 7:00 tonight. It would be held at Macaron’s Music Theater inside AmaBri, and the three girls would be the stars, while Macaron would be relegated to a side role. 
Prior to this, they had mainly been doing drudge work at nursery schools, old folks’ homes, shop events, and festivals—and even that was more like promotional activity than proper idol unit work. They’d hardly done any real stage performances; they mostly served as MCs to open the mascots’ shows, so this was their first time serving as headliners. 
“We’re putting on this show because your fans demanded it, ron!” 
“Yes! I’m honored!” Biino said. 

“To put it more bluntly,” Macaron continued, “it’s because we had complaints about your adult fans sneaking into nursery schools and old folks homes to see you, ron!” 
“That time at the nursery school when a grown man in short pants and a kid backpack wanted a handshake was pretty creepy...” Shiina said. 
“Don’t be afraid! Most of your audience today will be people like that, ron!” 
“Er, do you mean grown men in short pants and kid backpacks?” Eiko asked. 
“Only in the most extreme cases, ron. Your normal adult fans will be much easier to get along with,” Macaron assured them. “I mean it! They’re just here to cheer on some under-the-radar talent. They’re a nice bunch of people, ron.” 
“R-Really?” 
“...I mean that they genuinely admire your work as idols! You need to treasure those people, ron!” 
“Okay!” 
“Good. See, look at that!” Macaron turned on the CRT screen installed backstage, where there was already a long queue snaking around the Music Theater to see Task Force ABC. 
The main age range seemed to be late teens to mid-thirties, though there were quite a few in their 40s, as well. They were equipped with the special T-shirts and glow sticks the park sold, and were carrying tote bags with the girls’ faces printed on them. They were fully decked out and flushed with excitement. 
“You can see they’re very different from the guests I usually pull in! But that’s a good thing! I want you to do your best to entertain them! Sing, dance, show your belly buttons and shake your moneymakers! Service is the name of the game! Got it? Got it? Got it, ron?!” 
“Y-Yes, sir!” The three answered energetically. 
“Okay! Then, one more time! Ezekiel, chapter 25, verse 17, ron! ‘The path of the righteous man is beset...’ Okay!” 
“Back to that in the end, huh?” Shiina slumped over. 
That was when Kanie Seiya arrived. “How’s everything going?” he wanted to know. As usual, he was in his blue acting manager’s uniform. He seemed surprisingly relaxed, even though they were about to have a big show. 
“Kanie-san,” the three girls greeted him, straightening up in unison. It was a slightly over-the-top reaction to a boy in his second year of high school. 
Meanwhile, Macaron gave a polite nod to Seiya, although his attitude was its usual haughty one. “What is it, Seiya-kun? We’re all nervous before our final rehearsal, ron. If you’ve come here to nitpick at us, I’d prefer you to save it until after, ron.” 
“Actually, I just came to check in,” Seiya told them. “How are you all doing?” 
“Perfect, ron. We’ve got five songs in total, and the choreography and everything is in the bag.” 
“I see. That’s good to hear.” Seiya cleared his throat, looking from Eiko to Biino to Shiina. It wasn’t his usual scrutinizing gaze; he actually looked pretty relaxed. “Ahem. Ah... I know it’s a strange thing to ask, but...” 
“...?” The girls waited. 
“Are you sure you’re all right with this?” Seiya finally asked. “We kind of railroaded you into it, and you three... it’s not like you signed up to be entertainers. Giving a performance like this tonight could be the start of a lot of trouble for you...” 
“Huh?” Macaron scowled. It wasn’t just him—all three of the girls were shocked by what they’d just heard, too. After everything that had happened, Seiya was the last person they’d expect to say something like that. 
“There are going to be some real weirdos out there,” Seiya admitted. “Maybe even some stalker types. If you want, we could cancel it and gradually scale back your appearances...” 
“Hey, now...” Macaron protested. He wanted to say, After all you’ve put us through? 
But before he could, Chujo Shiina spoke up. “Pafter allyou thrut us boo?!” She stumbled over her words. 
“Huh?” Seiya blinked in confusion. 
“Yafter pall you thut us do?!” Shiina tried again. 
“I can’t understand you.” 
“You can do it, Shiina-chan,” Biino said encouragingly. 
“Nice and slow, nice and slow!” Eiko agreed. 
“S-Sorry...” Shiina’s face turned red. She took in a deep breath, and said timidly, “Um... after all you put us froo?!” She almost managed it. 
Macaron, Eiko, and Biino gave her a round of applause. 
“Th-Thankoo mery vuch... um, ahem.” Shiina straightened up and rubbed her chest. “...B-But I mean it, we’re... we’re working really hard! Of course, I wasn’t comfortable at first, but... now I like seeing our guests smile, and I like helping the park to do good business! So... so... it’s very discouraging to hear you say things like that!” 
“Ron?” Even Macaron was surprised by her words. The three had been working very hard lately, it was true—but this was still just a temporary gig, and he’d assumed they were treating it as such. 
“I’ll put my all into Task Force ABC!” Shiina declared. “I want to sell 100,000 CDs! I want to do a sold-out show at the Budokan! I want to tell a huge crowd of people, ‘Please come to AmaBri!’” There were tears in her eyes. Shiina, who had been so reluctant to sing that day in April when Moffle had pushed her into it, was now dead serious. 
A mentor of Macaron’s had once told him, “Boy, keep this in mind: The stage has a way of growing a person up, ron.” Macaron recalled those words now, and nodded quietly to himself. 
Seiya, meanwhile, just looked perplexed. “Are you serious?” 
“Ah, well... I know we probably won’t sell 100,000 CDs or perform at the Budokan... but that really is the way I’m feeling, I guess. Right? Don’t you feel that way, Eiko-san, Biino-san?” Shiina looked at them for backup. Macaron assumed Eiko and Biino would react hesitantly and skirt the question, but his assumption was off the mark. 
“I feel the same way that Shiina-san does,” Biino announced. 
“So do I,” Eiko agreed enthusiastically. “Let’s do it!” 
Each girl made her declaration and balled her hands into fists. Their gazes were determined. 
“I see. Give it your best, then.” Seiya’s reaction, too, was unexpected. Normally, he’d say something like You underestimate what it takes to be an entertainer! or Don’t think determination and desperation alone will get you far! But instead, all he’d said was, “give it your best.” The comment wasn’t dismissive, exactly, but something about it felt wrong, coming out of the Seiya that Macaron had known. 
There was nothing... greasy about it, you might say. It had none of the sweaty earnestness, none of the seething desperation that he’d felt from Seiya in the past. Is he tired? the sheep mascot wondered. Yes, that must be it. But even so, it was a strange way to behave... 
“Macaron,” Seiya said, “what is it?” 
“Ron? Ah, nothing...” 

“Okay,” Seiya agreed easily. “Anyway, I can tell you’re passionate about it. I’m putting my hopes on you!” 
“Okay!!!” The three girls answered energetically. 
“Sorry for the interruption. As you were,” Seiya said, before walking away. 
Macaron watched him carefully from around a backstage corner until he was finally out of sight. “Okay! Let’s kick this up a notch!” he cheered. “They’re gonna see a new trio starting today!” 
“Y-Yesh! Det’s boo our lest (let’s do our best),” Shiina said. 
“I’m sure it will be so much fun!” the others agreed. 
Eiko, Biino, and Shiina drew close to each other and struck a motivational pose. They didn’t seem to have noticed the changes in Seiya at all. 
“Macaron-san?” 
“Ron? Ah... right! Anyway, let’s do our best, ron! Now, back to practice! Book of Ezekiel, chapter 25, verse 17! ‘The path of the righteous man is beset...’” 
“This again?” 
The three girls slumped over as Macaron began his energetic recital.

It wasn’t just Macaron, but people all over the cast who got in contact with Isuzu about there being “something odd about Seiya.” Moffle did it, Tiramii did it. Head of administration Tricen did it, head of food Nick did it, as did head of maintenance Wrenchy-kun... 
“Has Seiya seemed a little tired lately, fumo?” they said. 
“Kanie-kun’s been yelling at me less lately, mii... I almost feel a little neglected, mii...” they said. 
“He hasn’t rebuked me at all. I find myself hunching over with fear...” they said. 
The complaints came over LINE, through email, and in person. 
Are our employees so masochistic that they want Kanie-kun’s abuse? Isuzu found herself wondering. But she couldn’t really blame them; she felt the same way. The one ray of hope she found was that the only people unsettled by Seiya’s recent behavior were solely the real cast in leadership positions; the rank-and-file and part-timers didn’t know him well enough to be particularly flustered by it. But that, too, was probably just a matter of time, and she worried that morale all over the park might eventually come to suffer. 
After seeing through the Task Force ABC concert, Isuzu returned to the general affairs building. When she arrived in the acting manager’s office, she found Seiya working on his PC. He must not have gone to the show. 
“Sento,” he said by way of greeting. “How’d the ABC show go?” 
“It was a sold out crowd,” she told him. “The fans were extremely pleased, and we sold nearly all of their merchandise.” 
“We didn’t produce much to begin with, so that’s not too surprising.” 
“I see...” She sat down at her desk and cast a glimpse at Seiya. It was quite dark outside by now, and she could see his computer screen reflected in the window behind him. She had assumed he was doing paperwork, but she was wrong. It was a simple card game: Freecell. Seiya, playing Freecell during work? Isuzu couldn’t believe her eyes. The ever-diligent Kanie Seiya, skipping out on work to play Freecell?! 
While Isuzu sat there in bewilderment, he continued moving his mouse, click, click, click. He snapped his tongue almost inaudibly. He must have hit a wall and been forced to restart. “Hey, Sento...” he said. 
“Y-Yes?” 
“You know the saying, ‘all affairs are like Saio’s horse’?” 
“Yes. It’s a mortal saying,” she replied. “It means that bad things can have good results in the long run... and vice-versa.” 
“That’s right,” he agreed amiably. “Lately, I feel like I understand what that means.” 
Because he’s playing Freecell? Isuzu wondered. She sometimes got that feeling when playing that game. There was a rush of endorphins that came when you got past a difficult situation—she understood it well. She had once been rather addicted to it herself, and after determining it to be a toxic, dangerous piece of software, she had deleted it from her computer. 
“And?” she questioned. 
“Well... that impossible three million requirement... I’ve started thinking it might be a good thing, in the long run,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s all.” 
“Really?” 
“Yeah. Well... I guess it doesn’t really matter,” Seiya said, letting out a small yawn. 
“...I must ask you a question, Seiya-kun,” Isuzu finally said. “Someone at school told me that you volunteered to manage your class’s cafe at the culture festival.” 
“I didn’t volunteer. I reluctantly agreed,” Seiya clarified. “...What, are people talking?” 
“Yes. That’s how rare it is for you to become aggressively involved with school activities.” 
“Ah, I guess it is.” 
“Your duties as acting manager are trying enough as it is,” she told him. “Are you certain that you can handle this?” 
“I don’t know. I figure I can work it out, though.” 
“How can you say that?” she burst out. 
Seiya kept clicking his mouse. “Don’t worry. If any conflicts arise, this place will always take priority.” By ‘this place,’ he of course meant AmaBri. 
“But then what about the culture festival?” she questioned. 
“It’s not like my reputation can suffer any more. Everyone hates me already. But it’s just a mock cafe for two days, right? I can polish that off in a few spare hours.” Seiya’s nonchalant tone filled Isuzu with an annoyance she found hard to describe. 
“I suppose that’s true,” she said. “But... in that case, why did you agree to be their manager?” 
“I wanted to finish up homeroom and leave,” Seiya explained. 
“Really? That’s the only reason?” 
“Of course it is... what’s with you today, anyway? What are you so worried about?” 
“You’re playing Freecell,” she pointed out. “I can see it.” 
“Hmm...” 
“I’m worried because your behavior is unusual.” 
“I’m just trying to change things up a little.” Seiya closed the card game window and let out a sigh. 
“I don’t mind that, but—” Just then, the phone at Isuzu’s desk rang. It was an outside number; she answered it immediately. “Yes? Maple Enterprise, secretarial department, Sento speaking.” Isuzu was the only member of that ‘department,’ of course. But she always introduced herself this way, as a matter of appearances. 
“I’m sorry to bother you so late at night. I’m Handa from Kagaya Real Estate. Could you put me through to Kanie-sama, please?” It was an unfamiliar woman’s voice. She sounded energetic, but not young; she was probably over 40 years old. 
“Yes. Handa-sama, you said? Just a moment.” She pressed the hold button and turned to Seiya. “It’s someone called Handa from Kagaya Real Estate. Do you know her?” 
“Ah... yeah. Put her through.” Seiya seemed a little flustered. He seemed to think deeply for a moment, then picked up the receiver. “Kanie here. Yes... no, I don’t mind at all. My cell number... ah, I see. I’m sorry.” 
Isuzu didn’t know what the woman was saying. She assumed that this (probably older) woman named Handa was apologizing for calling him at work instead of on his smartphone. In other words, Seiya had been trying to get in contact with this person from Kagaya Real Estate without Isuzu, his secretary, finding out about it. What’s going on here? she wondered. As if sensing Isuzu’s dissatisfied gaze, Seiya turned his back on her while he continued his conversation. Kagaya Real Estate... it was a real estate company, obviously. It sounded familiar, but she didn’t think AmaBri had any ongoing deals with them. 
“...Yes. Hmm, I see... there? Yes... that might possibly work. Ah... yes... I understand... then could I come and have a look at the site? How about tomorrow? ...Yes. Tomorrow at 1:00, then. Thank you very much. Goodbye.” Seiya hung up the receiver. 
They were engulfed by that peculiar silence unique to a small office after a phone call ended. It was Isuzu who broke it first. “Seiya-kun? Was that—” 
“Can we save the interrogation for later?” Seiya asked, holding up his hand. “I didn’t tell you because I’m still not committed. I didn’t know if the property was there or not.” 
“Property? What do you mean?” Isuzu wanted to know. 
“I’ll... explain tomorrow. Don’t ask me anything today,” Seiya ordered. “I haven’t even sorted out all my own thoughts on it.” 
“But...” 
“Just keep your schedule open tomorrow. We can meet up at 11 AM at Inabazutsumi Station, and then we’ll have a private viewing.” 
“A private viewing? What do you...” 
“Mum’s the word, okay?” He turned off his computer, then swiftly started packing up to go home. 
“Seiya-kun,” Isuzu protested, “I don’t understand.” 
“Just don’t tell anyone. Not even Latifah. Tomorrow at Inabazutsumi Station, 11 AM. Don’t be late, okay?” he told her shortly, and then headed off on his own.