#21: Black Velvet / ep.3
“Um! I’m Takahashi Marina, a new hire at AdHolic! I was hoping to ask the main office planning department some questions about proposals!”
Takahashi Marina — the shiny, first-year proposal rookie Mikoto was playing. Having agonized over how to build the character, Mikoto had ultimately settled on approaching the suspects while channeling her image of Shirai Rinko.
The three of them were easy enough to find, clustered together along the wall like fellow wallflowers.
“Whoa, so sparkly, so bright!”
The one who spoke was Terakado Hitomi, specialty in lifestyle products — a short-haired woman with an easygoing, no-nonsense air.
Behind her, a sporty young man, Ueshima, and a composed Higo followed up with wry smiles.
“Honestly, if anything we’d be the ones asking you, right, Higo-san?”
“Couldn’t agree more. Sorry to say it, but our seats in Planning probably aren’t going to last much longer.”
“That’s it, that’s exactly it! Which is why we’re not much use as references! Sorry, newbie.”
Probably because their fates were already more or less sealed, all three laughed off their impending reassignment with a genuinely refreshing lack of bitterness. None of them looked like they had the drive left to steal a project just to cling to their department.
“Um, are the three of you close?”
“I’m their supervisor, technically. Though I regret to say I never managed to bring out either of their talents.”
“Real talk, though. Not making the cut was on us, not you.”
“Yeah. Honestly glad I got to work under Higo-san, even if it didn’t pan out.”
“Could you pick either comforting me or insulting me, not both at once?”
The three of them laughed together. Despite facing the grim fate of dissolution over a lack of results, their working relationship seemed genuinely good — a sharp contrast to Mikoto’s own team.
“So if I had any advice for a newbie, it’d be… let’s see…”
Higo mulled it over for a while. Egged on by his subordinates’ “just say it already,” what finally came out was something entirely unrelated—
“For starters, try getting along with your teammates.”
＊
“How’d it go, Marina-san?”
“Well, that’s the thing…”
Tucked into a sofa in a corner of the hall, away from the crowd’s chatter, Mikoto relayed the exchange with the three suspects to Shandy. Sitting there mixing drinks on a sofa, she looked less like a bartender and more like a hostess-club girl.
“I see. So you got nothing and slunk right back.”
“Something about it just felt off…”
Mikoto looked off into the distance. The three of them hadn’t moved from their spot, still chatting away amiably. Terakado caught her eye and waved; Mikoto waved back.
Watching them in the same direction, Shandy spoke.
“Might be acting, you know. The whole team banding together to steal the project.”
“Do they really strike you that way?”
“I’ve made it a policy to assume everyone’s a thief until proven otherwise.”
“That’s a truly extreme case of misanthropy.”
“Yes. Though I’d like to believe in you, at least.”
Shandy’s eyes, opened wide as a full moon, held her in place. Feeling the sheer pressure of don’t you dare lie to me, Mikoto let her shoulders drop, thoroughly chastened.
“I’d like to believe in myself too, honestly. My own ability as a project planner, my team, my future. And besides…”
“Whether you can love me, or not?”
There was no stomach left for Shandy to probe. Mikoto had already emptied out nearly all her anxieties and doubts by now.
“Exactly that. Unfortunately, there’s still something childish in me. I don’t feel like someone who measures up to you. You’d probably laugh and call it a pointless worry.”
“Yes. I don’t concern myself with things like that.”
“…………….”
Something ached in her chest. That would only pile more weight onto Shandy’s own generosity.
Mikoto still didn’t have anywhere near Tōko’s level of resolve. Even while worrying she didn’t measure up to the person she loved, she wasn’t nearly composed enough as a person to find happiness in simply doing whatever that person asked of her.
“Aha. Those two whispered something in your ear, didn’t they?”
“Something like that. I don’t have the confidence to love you the way Tōko-san looks at Sanae-san.”
“Ha. You really do worry about the most pointless things, don’t you. Everyone loves differently.”
Shandy laughed, light and rolling. Mikoto understood it was meant as kindness toward her — but that alone wasn’t enough to loosen the rigid knot of her own thinking.
“…Still, I’m glad, you know.”
“Even with me worrying like this?”
“You worry because you’re taking it seriously. It’s precisely because you’re the type to do that, that I told you I’d wait. There’s never been a bond between two people in this world that turned out well from being rushed.”
Shandy smiled, uncharacteristically self-deprecating.
Mikoto thought back to the story of Alice and the Cheshire Cat.
Maybe she’d been carrying regret this whole time — regret over some past she’d rushed too quickly. If so, Mikoto wanted to hold that close to her too.
Mikoto straightened her back.
“Yes, my apologies for the wait. I’ve been having real trouble picking a situation that could top our last date.”
“Just let me know once you’ve settled on a date and worked up the nerve. I’ll keep my days off open.”
“Please look forward to it. And — I’ll say this much right now.”
“What’s that?”
Drawing a slow breath, Mikoto let her real feelings out.
“Your kindness — it’s reaching me. Properly.”
“…………….”
Shandy grabbed a cushion off the sofa and buried her face in it on reflex, clearly determined not to let her expression show at any cost. Mikoto considered teasing her over it, but now wasn’t the time for that.
Before the date, before anything else — there was something that had to come first.
“Shandy-san, let’s play a game. You and me, as a team. Win condition: catch the project thief.”
“Our first real collaboration. Ha, I’m looking forward to this.”
“Then let’s get to deducing…! Is what I’d love to say, but…”
Mikoto’s head drooped.
“…I still can’t believe those three are the culprit.”
“Oh my. Puffing yourself up with confidence, only to deflate right back down again.”
Shandy gave a wry smile, eyebrows bent into a sympathetic slant.
With the information on hand and Mikoto’s own powers of observation, actually identifying the culprit was a pipe dream. She had none of the insight or nerve that Shandy or Sanae wielded to probe someone’s true motives.
“Can’t be helped. Tonight, I’m your goddess of victory. Let me walk you through some proper deduction.”
“Let’s continue somewhere quieter,” she said, and led Mikoto back to the waiting room. Pouring herself some ginger ale from the mini bar, Shandy’s amber eyes lit up.
Her face, fully absorbed in a game, was more beautiful than anyone else’s in the world.
“Just as you suspected, those three aren’t the culprit.”
Shandy continued, pointing to a set of sketches she’d drawn of the three suspects on a memo pad — apparently, even she had no talent for drawing.
“The reason’s simple: because you thought so.”
“Is that supposed to be deduction…?”
“Those three were already resigned to being reassigned, weren’t they? If the stolen project had actually survived the selection round, they wouldn’t have reacted that way. There’d be no benefit to lying about it either.”
Put that way, it made perfect sense. Mikoto let out a breath of relief at not having to suspect that genuinely likable team after all.
But that meant the culprit had to be among the remaining thirty-six.
“In that case, we’re relying on those two again…”
“Yes, much as it galls me to say it. Did they mention anything else?”
“Just ‘try getting along with your teammates,’ more or less.”
“Hah. Sounds like something anyone could say.”
Shandy leaned her weight against Mikoto’s right shoulder. Her body heat and the scent of orange carried across, shoulder to shoulder.
“Are you and that Peach Lady on good terms these days, Mikoto-san?”
“Only professionally. Speaking of the team, though, I’ve picked up a troublesome woman.”
“Another shadow of some new woman, is it? Quite the rocky road your love life’s taking.”
The “troublesome woman” was Aomi Shiina from sales, now technically under Mikoto’s supervision. She’d declared herself “too busy to look at it,” but Mikoto had been sending her the Digital Memo materials regularly regardless. If the project had leaked to Hibiya’s side, Shiina was the only plausible source.
Mikoto realized something.
“Let me check something quickly.”
The clock read just before eight in the evening — well past normal work hours. She didn’t especially want to intrude on Shiina’s personal time, but there wasn’t much choice.
She called Shiina. After a few rings, a voice dripping with pure irritation answered.
“What.”
“Sorry, Aomi-san, do you have a moment? There’s something I really need to confirm—”
“Ugh, could you drop the fake-polite act already?! Just tell me what you want!”
Mikoto let the venom of Shiina’s shrieking wash right past her. For Shandy’s sake, listening in, she switched to speakerphone.
“Then tell me — the project materials I sent you, did you email them to Hibiya?”
“Of course I did! I even sent that mockup you gave me before!”
“Do you know the recipient’s name?”
“Higo, from Planning! And CC’d, his subordinates, Ueshima and Terakado! Are you implying I was slacking off?!”
Shiina’s hysterical protest went entirely unheard by Mikoto.
The three people Shiina had sent the project to were the exact same three people Mikoto had just interrogated. In other words, the assigned contacts happened, by sheer coincidence, to be the exact three people desperate enough to want the project.
“Really — just a coincidence…?”
Forty people worked in the planning department. Several of them, beyond just those three, were actually better suited to handling a gadget-type project like the stolen one. So why had those specific three, out of everyone, ended up as the designated contacts?
“Huh?! I have no idea what you’re talking about! I’m hanging up!”
“Wait, Aomi. Were those three the only ones you sent it to? No one else?”
Shiina let out an irritated growl. Filling the silence, a lively “welcome in!” echoed faintly through the phone — she was probably at some izakaya.
Having apparently finished checking her email log, Shiina let out a scoffing laugh. Mikoto felt a flash of irritation but kept listening.
“Here, let me enlighten you. Apparently there’s an internal rule that says any email to Planning gets BCC’d to the division head. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“No, there’s no such internal policy.”
Sanae’s voice. The Yanase couple had appeared in the waiting room, exchanging a quick greeting with Shiina on the line.
Mikoto turned to Sanae.
“Is that true, what you just said, Sanae-san?”
“Correct. The division head must be doing it entirely on his own authority.”
Email addressing generally breaks down into three main fields.
TO requires at least one recipient; CC is used to send the exact same content to multiple people, or to preserve a record (carbon copy) of who sent and received what.
BCC works the same way as CC in terms of copying — but its defining feature is that the recipient is hidden (blind). Anyone listed under BCC remains invisible to every other recipient.
“Which means the division head was also receiving Aomi-san’s emails — without any of the three even knowing.”
“Ah, I see, so that’s how it is…”
Apparently arriving at some conclusion of her own, Sanae, having answered Mikoto, sank weakly to the floor. Tōko rushed to her side, worried, wrapping her arms around her from behind.
“You saw it too, didn’t you, Mikoto-san. The truth behind this whole affair.”
“Wait, so does that mean the culprit is…”
Shandy broke into a sharp grin.
“Exactly. The culprit deliberately had the project routed to three genuinely suspicious people — specifically so no one would suspect him.”
“…It all lines up. He’s the one who requested me in the first place — precisely so he could manufacture a fall guy. Those three were already headed for the chopping block; losing them wouldn’t cost him a thing.”
“You very nearly ended up an unwitting accomplice to a crime, didn’t you, Yanase Sanae-san.”
“…………….”
The light had drained from Sanae’s eyes. Behind that hollow, unfocused stare, Mikoto could sense a fierce, burning rage.
“So, given the client turned out to be the actual culprit — is this the part where we quietly look the other way? The organization’s own loyal hound?”
“Don’t misunderstand me. My goal is my own advancement, not playing nice with garbage like him. And besides — I’m quite used to disposing of garbage.”
“Calm down, Sanae. You’re making your old face.”
“…I am calm.”
Sanae worked her phone, reaching out to several contacts at once, continuing as she did.
“My apologies, Kurosu-san. Would you mind seeing this through just a little further? I’ll need your cooperation to finish disposing of him properly.”
Nearly swept up by the sheer intensity radiating off Sanae, Mikoto answered on her own resolve regardless.
She had to catch the project thief. Had to clear both her own name and Meiji Stationery’s.
“Yes. Whatever I can do.”
“Thank you. I won’t take up more of your time than necessary.”
“You called for me, senpai?”
Sanae’s summoned subordinate, Iida, appeared in the waiting room, and Sanae gave him his instructions without preamble.
“Iida-kun. When I give the signal, go into the executive meeting and tell them the division head stole the project. Add that if it goes to litigation, we have no chance of winning.”
“Wha—?! There’s no way I can do that!?”
“You’re Sanae’s subordinate, aren’t you? Then quit arguing and just do it!”
Cowed by Tōko’s sharp threat, Iida bolted out of the room. The hollow look in Sanae’s eyes gave way, once again, to something more human — stunned, apparently, by Tōko’s own sudden intensity.
“Ah, sorry. I figured if Sanae said it herself it’d count as workplace harassment.”
“No, that… actually helped, thank you…”
“What an enviable partnership you two have.”
Shandy laughed softly, and right over it, another voice came through the phone — Shirai Rinko’s.
“Th— that was some scream! What’s going on, Kurosu-san?!”
“Shirai-san…?”
“Aomi-san and I are actually being treated to dinner by the managing director tonight!”
“Kurosu-san’s on afternoon leave today, remember?”
Following Rinko’s voice came the drawn-out, kindly rumble of the managing director himself.
There’d never be a better opening than this, even if it meant reporting after the fact. Mikoto decided to lay everything out.
“Managing Director, please listen! My project’s been stolen, and I’m about to go up against Hibiya’s own division head over it! Is that all right with you?!”
The first voice to cut in was Shiina’s.
“WHAT?! Wait, where even are you right now?! Stolen? Hibiya’s division head?! Your project?!”
“I’ll explain later! Managing Director?!”
After a heavy pause, the managing director’s voice finally came, weighted and serious.
“Kurosu-san. That’s a matter that affects the company’s overall management decisions.”
Naturally. Going head-to-head with a giant like Hibiya could easily be the final blow for a company already teetering as badly as Meiji Stationery.
Mikoto bit down hard, a wave of despair sinking down her spine — is this as far as it goes?
But the managing director’s answer was something else entirely.
“I’ll take full responsibility for it, Chief Kurosu. Go on and raise all the hell you need to!”
Half a century of service to Meiji Stationery. The pride of a veteran craftsman who’d poured his heart and soul into pencil-making his whole career — the sentiment brought a hot sting to Mikoto’s eyes. Before she could even manage a word of thanks, Shiina, apparently reading the situation, shouted first.
“Kurosu, I’m heading over right now! Where?!”
Catching Mikoto’s eye, Sanae gave a small nod — leave it to me.
“Hotel Maverick. Just mention Yanase Sanae’s name and they’ll let you through!”
“I’ll be there in thirty minutes! Ah, sorry — cancel that Peach Fizz I ordered!”
Shandy reacted instantly to the word Rinko had let slip — and, in turn, Rinko caught something too.
“Hmm? A Peach Fizz, is it. What a reliable coworker you have, Mikoto-san.”
“Mikoto-san…? Kurosu-san, who exactly is that woman with you—”
Just as Rinko started to press for an answer, Sanae’s voice cut through with fierce intensity.
“I’ve called the culprit here! Kurosu-san, brace yourself!”
“Sorry Aomi, I’ve got to go! Hotel, thirty minutes!”
“You’d better make good on this, Chief — fail and I’ll kill you!”
“Wait! That woman just now, who—”
The instant the call ended, a knock sounded at the waiting room door.
Mikoto exchanged a glance with the three others in the room. Tōko, gaze fixed and serious; Sanae, hollow pupils burning with fierce, contained rage; and Shandy, amber eyes gleaming sharp.
All their wills, in that moment, converged on a single point.
At Mikoto’s nod, Sanae spoke, flat and emotionless.
“Please, come in.”
The door opened, and the true culprit — the planning department’s division head — stepped into view.