#20: Black Velvet / ep.2
The curtain fell on the final selection round. Hibiya’s executives had moved to the adjoining room, and the assembled employees filled the hall with easy conversation.
Instructed to hold a strategy meeting, Mikoto sat in the same waiting room as before, staring down at her fake employee ID.
Today, Mikoto was Takahashi Marina — new hire at AdHolic Inc. Once the strategy session with Sanae and the others wrapped up, she’d have to keep playing the part while tracking down the actual project thief.
“Easy for them to say, ‘acting’…”
Without quite meaning to, her fingers had already opened her LINE chat. The other party: an actual acting professional — her sister, Kotone. She’d meant to reply to Kotone’s “See you later!” message from before her flight to America, maybe angle for a bit of advice in the process — but her fingers stalled.
Not that she distrusted Kotone. But this whole affair was under strict confidentiality. And besides, trying to explain the tangled mess she’d landed in felt genuinely difficult.
In the end, she pulled her eyes off her phone and looked up at the ceiling instead. If she was going to rely on whatever method Shandy had in mind, she’d first have to talk that Yanase Sanae into it.
“…How exactly do I win over Yanase Sanae…?”
“Is that so?”
Mikoto spun around on reflex to find the Yanase couple standing in the waiting room’s doorway.
Her muttering had been overheard. Both of them fixed her with a look like she’d tracked something filthy across the floor. Mikoto scrambled to correct herself.
“N-no, that’s not it! ‘Win over’ was just a figure of speech…”
“So you’ve been looking at Sanae that way, Kurosu-san.”
“I’m telling you, it’s a misunderstanding! I was only thinking through strategy…!”
Her correction did nothing. The two of them silently took seats on the two-person sofa. Then, as if deliberately putting their closeness on display, Tōko leaned into Sanae and shot Mikoto a cold, wary stare. Blatantly suspicious of her now.
“It really is a misunderstanding… I have no intention of coming between the two of you…”
“Please be more careful with your words going forward. This isn’t a game.”
“Understood…”
Practically wrapped in Tōko’s arms, Sanae handed over a tablet. On the screen: a list of all forty planning-department employees at Hibiya’s headquarters, complete with photos and brief professional histories.
“This is a staff roster pulled from the personnel evaluation database — all forty names. Please look it over.”
The employees’ backgrounds ran the gamut.
Twenty-seven men, thirteen women. Ages ranging from twenties to fifties. Hometowns scattered across the whole country, specialties spanning manufacturing, logistics, HR, aerospace, lifestyle, entertainment, sports, and on and on.
Memorizing this much scattered personal data in an instant was next to impossible.
“Memorized?”
“There’s no way I could memorize all this…”
“Right. Which is why we’ll narrow the suspect pool somewhat.”
Sanae worked the tablet, adding some kind of filter to the earlier list. The roster of forty shrank down to just three.
“Who are these three, exactly?”
“At our company, planning-department staff get reassigned if they fail to hit their quota within three years of placement. All three of these people are behind quota — meaning they’re desperate enough for a win to practically claw for one.”
“That’s brutal, even for Hibiya…”
“Giving them a full three years is already generous, if anything.”
Keeping quiet about her own five years in Planning without much to show for it, Mikoto skimmed the three profiles…
Number one: Ueshima Shōta (28), specialty in factory automation equipment.
Number two: Terakado Hitomi (25), specialty in lifestyle products.
Number three: Higo Kazuma (31), specialty in HR management systems.
—Sure enough, every single one of their specialties brushed uncomfortably close to the Digital Memo.
Mikoto’s own proposal document had, admittedly, listed its potential uses a little too generously: durable enough for factory use with a hard case, seamless enough for everyday life, useful enough for desk work too.
While Mikoto stared at the tablet, trying to commit the three faces and names to memory, Sanae spoke up.
“Also, Kurosu-san. What exactly is your relationship with that bartender?”
“Eh…?”
Mikoto looked up at Sanae’s face. Her stony expression gave nothing away.
“The two of you seemed to be talking for quite a while.”
“And you were holding hands too, weren’t you — the lovers’ grip! With someone that lovely right in front of you, and you’re still trying to make a move on Sanae?!”
“No, she’s…”
Before she could finish, the waiting room door opened.
“Ha. If there’s scheming going on, mind if I join in too?”
Carrying a tray with four drinks, Shandy strolled in without a flicker of concern.
Caught off guard by the sudden intrusion, Sanae immediately snatched the tablet away and narrowed her eyes.
“There was a sign on the door, wasn’t there? Authorized personnel only?”
“Then there’s no problem, is there — I happen to be authorized myself. Isn’t that right, Marina… no, Kurosu Mikoto-san?”
The Yanase couple’s gaze pinned Mikoto in place.
“Kurosu-san. I believe I told you to keep this matter confidential. What exactly is this betrayal?”
There was no talking her way out of this anymore. Mikoto steeled herself and forced the words out.
“…This is the owner of a bar I frequent — Charlotte Gabrielle-san.”
“Hmm, quite the formal introduction, isn’t it? For two people so thoroughly in love.”
“Shandy-san?!”
Not the slightest concern for the mess Mikoto now found herself in, Shandy smiled with pure, spiteful glee. Her rotten streak was showing.
Before Sanae could get a word in edgewise, Tōko, for whatever reason, burst out with excitement instead.
“So they really are yuri after all! See? I told you, Sanae! Those two are definitely dating! Kurosu-san’s the top and the bartender’s the bottom! Oh, but actually it might be flipped right now. Maybe it changes depending on the mood that day—”
“Please stay quiet for a moment, Tōko. I’ll hear all the theories you want later.”
Tōko’s suspicion had thawed, at least — though it felt like she’d landed on an equally inconvenient misunderstanding instead.
Not wanting Shandy to imply anything further, Mikoto cut in.
“Shandy-san and I are, well… something more than friends, less than a couple, I suppose. And this whole situation — sorry, it’s my fault for letting it slip.”
“Just so it’s clear, I’m here entirely on my own initiative. I wanted to help Mikoto-san, so I did, without asking anyone. Blame me if you’re going to blame anyone.”
“Wow! That’s even deeper love than I expected, Sanae!”
Tōko’s eyes sparkled in stark contrast to Sanae’s deepening scowl. But after rereading some other document in her hands, Sanae seemed to reach some kind of conclusion and continued.
“Your name did appear on the personnel documents provided by the hotel. Would you mind if I confirmed your identity, just to be thorough? I can’t entirely rule out the possibility that you’re impersonating Charlotte Gabrielle.”
“I’ll decline, thank you. That’s personal information.”
A twitch at Sanae’s temple.
“…You won’t reveal your name?”
“Correct. Why would I share something I haven’t even told Mikoto-san, with someone I’ve only just met?”
“And yet you expect me to trust you simply because you’re connected to Kurosu-san? Rather convenient, don’t you think.”
“Well, of course. I haven’t ruled out the possibility that you’re the actual project thief either, you know. Same as how you suspect I might not really be Charlotte.”
“I did not steal Kurosu-san’s project.”
“Then there’s no need to confirm my identity either, is there?”
“You’re a difficult woman.”
“Takes one to know one.”
—Please, someone end this uncomfortable exchange soon.
Amid the tense, prickling air, all Mikoto could do was pray silently to herself.
Sanae was the first to break, letting out a small “hah” of a sigh.
“…Understood. I’ll trust you and move things along.”
“No, one more thing, if you don’t mind. I’d like the two of you to prove that you’re actually married — Sanae-san and Tōko-san.”
“Matching surnames and matching rings should be sufficient proof.”
“No. What I want to see is whether there’s a real bond of love between the two of you.”
Shandy wore a sly, knowing grin — the exact same mischievous look she gave Mikoto whenever she was toying with her. Her sadistic streak had clearly caught fire. If someone didn’t put a stop to this, it would only cause trouble later.
“Shandy-san. Isn’t that enough already? This has nothing to do with any of that!”
“It has everything to do with it. Don’t we need proof that you two won’t be putting hands on each other? After all, your partner very nearly got seduced right in front of you. I imagine Tōko-san must be feeling rather uneasy about it.”
“Right! Kurosu-san was trying to steal Sanae away from me…!”
“I already told you, that was a misunderstanding! And where exactly were you listening from?!”
Shandy laughed a meaningfully “ha,” and Sanae shot her a sharp glare.
“We’re pressed for time. Please, be brief. How exactly are we meant to prove this… bond of ours?”
“Well, let’s see.”
Shandy answered with her most radiant smile.
“Kiss, right in front of us. A proper, deep one — the passionate kind of baiser reserved only for when you’re truly alone together.”
“O-okay, got it! Let’s show them, Sanae!”
“T-Tōko. We’re in the middle of work, right now…”
Right in front of Mikoto, the two of them delivered exactly the kiss Shandy had demanded. Tōko sealed the smaller Sanae’s lips from an angle above her. Sanae’s stony, all-business expression melted into something softer than Mikoto had ever seen on her.
—So that’s the face she makes, kissing.
After a lingering moment, their lips finally parted, and Sanae forced her stony expression back into place as best she could. Tōko, apparently thoroughly embarrassed, fanned her own face with one hand.
“…Satisfied now?”
“Yes. In that case, shall we do the same, Mikoto-san?”
“No. Wrong partner.”
Sanae’s brows drew sharp with anger, her tone dropping cold.
“Kurosu-san will be kissing me.”
“Wha—?!”
Every voice besides Sanae’s rose in unison. After soothing Tōko, who’d latched onto her demanding “why?”, Sanae continued.
“This will prove there’s no romantic tension between Kurosu-san and myself. If there’s truly nothing there, a kiss won’t spark anything at all. That should serve as sufficient proof that no hands will be laid on anyone, shouldn’t it?”
“…Is this meant as a jab at me?”
“Yes. For mocking Tōko and myself, I’ll be repaying you with exactly the method you’d find most objectionable. This was a seed you planted yourself, so I trust you’re prepared for it. Kurosu-san.”
“Wait, hold on a second…?!”
Sanae closed the distance, right in front of Mikoto. Small in stature, with a youthful face — she might have been genuinely cute, if not for that permanently stony expression.
Glancing sideways at Shandy, Mikoto found her amber eyes narrowed into a waning crescent, glaring at her with a damp, unreadable intensity.
“Hurry up, please. Surely you can manage a simple kiss.”
“Th-that’s not the issue here, but…!”
“So you’ll do it with someone who isn’t me.”
“Shandy-san, this is—!”
“Something amazing is happening right now…! Is this like — yuri NTR or something, Sanae?!”
“Why are you enjoying this situation so much?!”
“…Hold still. Coward.”
With only Tōko in inexplicably high spirits, Mikoto’s lips were taken.
Something soft pressed into the gap between her sealed lips — Sanae’s tongue. Clearly intending to put on the same intense display for Shandy that she’d just shown with Tōko, meant as a punishment.
Their eyes met. Sanae’s gaze carried none of the warmth you’d expect between two people sharing a kiss out of affection — pure, murderous focus instead — and Mikoto, pinned by it, ultimately let the intrusion into her mouth continue. A cold tongue, unfamiliar saliva, entangling with hers — nothing like Shandy’s.
And the whole time, both of them were being watched by the person each of them actually cared about.
A genuinely unpleasant kiss, however you measured it.
“There. Nothing happened. Let’s move forward.”
Not a flicker of expression crossing her face, Sanae wiped her mouth pointedly with a handkerchief. Ignoring Shandy’s resentful glare entirely, she pressed on.
“In any case. Our top three suspects: Ueshima, Terakado, Higo. Kurosu-san, I’ll leave these three to you. Method’s up to you — for your own sake and your company’s, pry a confession out of them by whatever means necessary. Tōko and I will handle the remaining suspects.”
“U-understood… In that case, Shandy-san, could you support me?”
“…Mikoto-san? Still haven’t noticed, have you?”
Wiping Mikoto’s lips clean with a handkerchief, then overwriting the gesture with her own lips, Shandy spoke.
“This woman… oh, my apologies. Yanase Sanae-san here has been sitting on the single easiest method of flushing out the project thief this whole time.”
“Wh-what do you mean by that?”
Eyes gleaming, Shandy fixed Sanae with a piercing look. Sanae, for her part, met it with an unreadable, expressionless calm.
“It’s simple. Just fake the award announcement. Announce that the Digital Memo’s been selected, and catch whichever thief comes strutting up onto that stage to claim it.”
“Yes, exactly! What’s wrong with that plan, Sanae-san?!”
“…Rejected. It would put Kurosu-san in danger.”
“Ha. Nothing but lies.”
Shandy laughed, light and rolling, like bells tumbling together.
“Someone as sharp as you would’ve landed on an idea this simple immediately. The fact that you haven’t used it means there’s a reason you don’t want to. Am I wrong?”
“I already told you — it would put your girlfriend in danger. There’s no telling what a cornered thief might do out of spite.”
“No. Whatever happens to Mikoto-san isn’t actually any of your concern, is it? Which means that reason’s just a cover story. Shall I guess your real one instead?”
“Please, go ahead.”
Sanae’s eyes had gone slightly unfocused. Quietly furious.
Shandy continued.
“You want to avoid putting the thief on public display, don’t you? With my fake-award method, the whole company would find out exactly who the culprit is.”
“And?”
“That’s as far as I can guess. At first I thought you might be protecting the thief — but if that were the case, you’d never have called in Mikoto-san at all. So you’re hunting the thief too. What I can’t figure out is why you’d want to keep whoever you find so carefully hidden.”
“I see.”
For the first time that day, the corner of Sanae’s mouth eased. A glimpse of a sharp canine tooth flashed — hunting-dog sharp.
“…Honestly, what a troublesome woman you’ve dragged along with you. She’s entirely correct.”
“Uh— um… what exactly does that mean…?”
Sanae gathered her hair back and rolled up her cardigan sleeves. The air around her shifted at once — probably some kind of ritual she went through before settling into work mode.
“My real job is to handle this project-thief matter quietly, behind closed doors. Not putting the culprit on display — no, keeping the whole affair out of the public record entirely — is what the head of the planning department specifically wants. If word got out that they’d been harboring an employee willing to breach company ethics like this, the department’s internal standing would take an unavoidable hit. Fearing exactly that, they came to me.”
“Is it really okay to say all this, Sanae…?”
“Yes. I’ve judged them to be an ally. Or rather — there’s no more time to waste circling each other’s real motives. If a stomach’s going to get cut open anyway, better to cut it open cleanly.”
“Well done, Mikoto-san. Seems we finally understand each other properly, the two of us.”
Not only had she gone toe-to-toe with the formidable Sanae — she’d actually dragged out the truth Sanae had been sitting on the whole time.
Shandy was some kind of monster, wielding a terrifying blend of deduction and insight. Just what kind of opponent had Mikoto been playing against, this whole time? A chill ran down her spine.
“But precisely because of that, let me say this again clearly. Charlotte-san’s method is off the table. I work for Hibiya. There’s no inherent obligation for me to look after another company’s mess. This time, the circumstances Kurosu-san found herself dragged into were simply too unjust — which is why I promised favorable terms as an apology, if she’d cooperate with my own work in exchange.”
“Hmm? What’ll it be, Mikoto-san?”
The whole picture had finally clicked into place. Mikoto sorted through the situation.
Expose the thief with a fake award, and Mikoto and Meiji Stationery would be protected. But Sanae’s own work would fail, costing her a valuable connection to Hibiya.
Pursue the culprit quietly, steadily, in secret, and Mikoto could reclaim her project and gain a favor from Sanae besides — but it carried real risk of failure.
Mikoto made up her mind.
Draining the Shirley Temple Shandy had brought her, she made her declaration.
“…There’s no time left, is there? Let’s go find the culprit, quickly.”
“Choosing the riskier path, after I went out of my way to help you.”
“I’ve got three allies now. We’ll manage. Isn’t that right, Sanae-san?”
“I appreciate your decision. …Is this glass non-alcoholic?”
“Yes, no poison in it, I promise.”
Saying “cheers,” Sanae and Tōko drained their own Shirley Temples too. Watching Tōko delight over hers with a “delicious!”, Shandy laughed. Whatever tension and misunderstanding had built up between the four of them finally eased.
“Well then. Let’s get to work.”
One by one, they filed out of the waiting room, heading for the Grand Reception Room.
Mikoto steeled herself back into Takahashi Marina. The operation had begun.