#104: Scandal / ep.2
Here, on the outskirts of Roppongi. A door she should have been used to opening — and yet, today of all days, it felt heavier than it ever had before. The girls’ bar, Antiqua.
Mikoto was replaying what Aoi had told her a few hours earlier, having fled back to Kyodo ahead of her.
Shandy had drunk herself into a stupor and collapsed into her own vomit. For that woman — a bottomless pit who could drink all day without so much as a flush to her cheeks — to drink until she was sick meant something serious. Something she’d needed to run from, badly enough to drown it in alcohol.
“I have to go in.”
Going in was still frightening. She worried she might hurt Shandy by pushing too far. But as long as she stayed afraid, she’d never move forward.
Steeling herself, Mikoto put her hand to the heavy door. Stepping into the darkness just past the entrance, she heard easy conversation drifting from inside. Antiqua, unchanged as ever.
“Welcome. Welcome to Antiqua.”
Shandy’s voice hadn’t changed either. Composed, and yet mischievous, ringing out like a bell.
Mikoto hesitated over her first words, then spoke.
“I’m home.”
“Fufu. Welcome back. Did you enjoy your little affair last night?”
“I wanted to talk about something.”
“Of course. I’ll take your order at the bar — your usual seat, if you please.”
“Wait.”
In the darkness, she caught hold of Shandy’s slender arm. It felt slightly thinner, more gaunt than usual — though that might just have been her own bias talking.
“I want to talk in the back.”
“My, what an ardent invitation.”
Leading Shandy — still withholding her true feelings, still shrouded in mystery — by the hand, Mikoto opened the door to the back room. The narrow hallway inside the building was lit by harsh fluorescent light, throwing Shandy’s bare, pale face into sharp relief.
She really did look a little unwell. Having spent so long reading Shandy’s face for a living, even the smallest change didn’t escape her.
“Aoi-chan told me.”
“Oh my, did she.”
Shandy admitted it without missing a beat, smiling as if to say she had no intention of explaining further.
“Drinking until you’re sick — that’s not like you, Shandy-san.”
“Can’t be helped. My dear fiancée went off to play with a homewrecking cat and never came home.”
The word “fiancée” stung. She’d only spent the night with Rinko because she couldn’t shake free of that sweet, paralyzing word — engagement — and couldn’t move forward.
If she stayed embarrassed and kept it secret, Shandy would only read into it and blow it out of proportion. So instead, Mikoto decided to come clean.
“I was anxious, so I talked it through with her.”
“Couldn’t it have been me?”
“It wasn’t something I could bring to you.”
“Hmm.”
To silence Shandy before she could start prying further, Mikoto pulled a wedding venue pamphlet out of her bag.
“I went and looked at it. I know it’s supposed to be something we do together, really.”
—Because you never say you’ll come with me.
She swallowed the rest of the sentence and handed over the pamphlet instead.
“It’s near the shop. It’s beautiful, and the staff seemed trustworthy.”
“That’s lovely to hear.”
Shandy only smiled her usual smile and pushed no further. Just like Rinko had said — maybe she really was afraid to step further in.
“Shandy-san.”
“Yes?”
“Let’s get married.”
She pressed the point home, words she’d said countless times before. To move their relationship forward — stalled where it had stood since their engagement a year ago — she couldn’t just keep waiting. Shandy had waited up ahead for her this whole time; now it was Mikoto who had to take her hand and lead her down the aisle.
Shandy fell silent. At the exact moment she most needed not to be.
“I can manage the venue costs if I push myself, and there’s the gift money too, so it won’t be that much of a burden.”
That wasn’t what she wanted to say.
“You said you wanted to wear matching wedding dresses and make your vows, didn’t you?”
That wasn’t what she wanted to say either.
“And of course, it doesn’t have to be this venue. Once things settle down, an overseas ceremony could be nice too — Hawaii, Bali. Or your hometown, even.”
None of that was really what she wanted to say.
None of that was what she wanted Shandy to notice.
“So — what do you think?”
She tried to keep her tone light, forcing cheer into her voice, but the strain of the fake smile ached in her cheeks. Her nerves, her desperation, her anxiety — she was sure none of it was hidden.
She didn’t want to stay engaged forever, left dangling in limbo.
“…Would you mind waiting just a little longer?”
That was what hurt. Not being trusted. Not having her anxiety acknowledged and acted on.
She’s afraid to step further in. That’s what it feels like.
“Shandy-san, I—”
“I know. I understand how you feel.”
“If you understand, then—!”
She grabbed Shandy’s shoulders, who still hadn’t lifted her downcast eyes.
Please don’t look like that. It made Mikoto feel like the villain, like she’d forced her way in without any consideration. The anxiety that had fermented over a year of being left in this suspended engagement flared into irritation — why won’t you understand?
“At the very least, just the paperwork would be fine. I’m anxious, Shandy-san — I’m scared you’re going to slip away somewhere far off…”
“………..”
The longer the silence dragged on, the more that thread of anxiety ballooned, hot-air-balloon-like. Even the feelings she’d trusted in Shandy this whole time began to warp — the thought that it might all have been a lie crossed her mind, unwanted.
“…Fufu. Did I surprise you?”
Shandy laughed it off playfully, gave Mikoto a light kiss, and pushed the pamphlet back into her hands.
“Of course I want to make my vows too, you know. But look — Antiqua’s grown into quite the popular little shop, as you can see. There’s press interest now, and it’s only going to get busier from here.”
Even Mikoto could tell.
Shandy was saying something that didn’t even qualify as an excuse. No matter how busy she was, there was surely time enough to file paperwork, to move forward with the ceremony planning.
I’m being lied to. Being stopped from pushing further.
“So, just a little longer, please. I’ll make you the happiest, most love-drunk girl in the world, I promise.”
The more eloquently she spoke, the more she smiled, the more plainly her intention not to actually explain anything came through.
Secretive to the very end, unable to trust anyone. Not even Mikoto, her own fiancée.
“…If that’s how it is, then I’ll save it as something to look forward to. If I’m the happiest in the world, then you’ll be the happiest woman in the universe.”
“My, how exciting.”
She stretched up on her toes.
I don’t actually want to save it for later. She wanted to cast off this anxiety right now. She’d already looked up which ward office accepted marriage registration forms even after midnight. The form itself — the one that had come as a bonus insert in a bridal magazine — already had her signature and seal in place. If Shandy would just fill in her half right here, it would all be settled.
“Speaking of which, did you get anywhere with the original cocktail idea? I heard you’d had an idea.”
And there it was — the topic, deflected without a hint of shame.
Having finally pushed forward, only to be met with no intention of answering, even their usual back-and-forth suddenly felt painful.
“Ah — yeah. Turned out to be a misfire. I’ll keep working on it.”
“Then let’s continue this inside.”
“I just came by today because I was worried about you, that’s all. Sorry for saying something that just made things more anxious. I’m such a child, not even able to control myself.”
“Mikoto.”
“And besides, Kotone’s whole situation is a mess right now. Aoi-chan and everyone, and Toko-san, are apparently crashing at our place for a while. Kind of tight, seven people in a 2 bedroom apartment. Sanae-san said she’s coming too, so that makes eight.”
She retreated back toward the darkness, fleeing the back room. Just as her hand reached the doorknob, Shandy embraced her from behind.
The embrace continued in silence.
“Oh dear. What a troublesome young lady. Is it so hard to part ways?”
“………..”
“Shandy-san?”
Shandy seemed to try to say something, then swallow the words back — again and again. Perhaps this was the friction that came from having finally pushed in. If she waited as told, maybe things would just be drawn out the same as before, all over again.
I don’t want to stay engaged forever.
She didn’t want to. And yet.
Mikoto didn’t have the courage to press further and demand to know why Shandy wouldn’t commit to marriage.
“…Trust me.”
She said it in a voice on the verge of vanishing.
What lay beneath those words, she couldn’t say — this was exactly the moment to push further, and yet lacking the courage to press, she mustered what little courage she had left instead.
“Because I trust you.”
She slipped through the darkness and left Antiqua behind. The last thing exchanged between them was the coldest, most bitter kiss they’d ever shared.
Emerging from the darkness back into the bartender’s sanctuary. Four customers remain. Serving each of them, spreading a little charm around — that’s my job, but for her alone, my expression hardens.
Reporter Miyashita Kanade.
Whatever face she puts on as a magazine journalist chasing an interview, her true identity is unmistakable — she belongs to her. A puppet playing detective, whose sole purpose is tracking down the location of the Antiqua I run. Exactly the kind of move she’d pull. It’s exhausting.
“Do come again.”
The date has rolled past midnight. Customers trickle out to catch their last trains, while reporter Miyashita stays planted at the center of the counter, smoking the whole time. Marlboro Menthols — the smell drags memory up whether I want it to or not.
The past I burned on the Kyodo balcony and threw into the Kinugawa River has come chasing after me.
“Fufu. Quite the dedicated journalist. Late nights aren’t good for the skin, you know.”
“True enough. I’ll be careful. Akutagawa Alice.”
Just as I expected — she’s a hunter sent from my past.
Chesha’s puppet, guided to Alice.
“I’m sorry, who?”
“I’m the one who wrote your obituary.”
I don’t want to remember those days, four years back.
“Oh my, I was dead? How haunting.”
So I dig in out of sheer spite. I’m not Akutagawa Alice anymore. I’m not Charlotte Gabriel either. Reborn under a name I took from her — still no one in particular — Shandy Gough.
The large earrings dangling from Miyashita’s ears sway.
“Charlotte Gabriel. Born to a French businessman father and a Japanese-French mixed-race mother who was his mistress.”
“For a journalist to say ‘mixed-race,’ isn’t that going to get you in trouble? These days I hear people say ‘double.’”
I try heckling her, but Miyashita just continues methodically confirming facts, unmoved.
“Your mother decided to raise you as an illegitimate child and moved back to her family in Japan. In France, her occupation had been bartender.”
“Two generations of bartenders, mother and daughter — quite the fated plot device, isn’t it?”
“Your mother died of illness when you were seven. You didn’t get along with her relatives, so you were sent to a children’s care facility.”
A chill runs down my spine. Please, don’t make me remember any more of this.
“You stood out at the facility. Partly your strong European features, no doubt, but mostly because you kept your heart tightly closed.”
“Quite the storybook tragic heroine. Hard to believe someone like that actually exists in the real world.”
“That tragic quality started to pay off at fifteen, when you passed the entrance exam for the Maverick theater troupe and began performing as part of the 95th class.”
My legs are trembling.
“Akutagawa Alice was an actress with a bright future ahead of her. She racked up stage experience in supporting roles across numerous productions, standing head and shoulders above her peers and even several years’ worth of seniors. Natural beauty, paired with the sheer power of performance that came from a heart kept closed — every quality an actress could need, all in one package.”
“Quite the shining star, this Akutagawa woman.”
“And that’s exactly why the nail that stuck up got hammered down.”
My stomach churns. The back of my throat burns raw.
“It was only natural the other troupe members resented it. And once Iimori — the man who’d served as something like a father figure to you — left the troupe to take a job as a bartender attached to Hotel Maverick, the resentment and envy turned uglier still.”
Only two people in that troupe ever understood me — Iimori-san, a veteran nearly at retirement, and Kuze Fumika-chan, a junior two years younger who played male roles.
Everyone else — every actress I competed with for roles — was the enemy.
“The troupe, seeing the situation, couldn’t ignore it, and cast you in the lead role. The idea was to spur on the surrounding talent by giving the lead to a capable young actress. It backfired spectacularly instead.”
That casting decision was what dragged me down from the world of the stage.
“You endured miss-treatment from your seniors, your peers, and even your juniors — abuse too vicious to simply call bullying. You’d become the troupe’s untouchable sore spot, unable to open your heart to anyone, with no one to turn to, and you were slowly, steadily cornered.”
“And? What happened to this Akutagawa woman?”
I don’t want to hear the rest, but I refuse to lose. I refuse to break. It’s a past I threw away — a person who’s already dead. I should be able to forget all of it, treat it as someone else’s story.
I know that. And yet the weight of what Miyashita is saying is crushing.
“During rehearsals for the lead role, you attempted suicide. A necktie, looped over your bedroom doorknob.”
I can’t breathe. It’s only a memory, only a hallucination — and yet my throat closes up all the same.
“Fufu. I can understand the urge to run. Surrounded by that much pressure, that much weight of expectation, by people too unkind and closed-minded to understand — of course you’d be driven to despair.”
“But you couldn’t escape, and the attempt failed. Kuze happened to visit your room and found you in time; you were rushed to the hospital and revived.”
“Oh, how unfortunate. It would have been better if she’d died.”
Miyashita just stares at me. That same vacant, puppet-like expression, no light of will behind her eyes. Maybe that’s what I looked like too, back when Chesha had me under her thumb.
“Once your life was saved, you told the whole truth only to Kuse and Iimori, who came to visit. That you wanted to leave the stage. To wash your hands of the industry entirely, and start over as someone new.”
“And?”
“Kuse and Iimori staged a performance for your sake. As it happened, one of Iimori’s clients — a fan of yours with real media influence — was drawn in to help fake your death.”
“How?”
“A local fisherman was made to witness someone throwing themselves into the sea. He never knew it was a mannequin made to resemble you. In waters with fast currents, the police investigation stalled, and you were duly declared missing. From there, all it takes is a suicide note, and to the public, you can be treated as a suicide even while officially remaining missing.”
Miyashita Kanade. She knows everything.
“The one who devised this plan was your fan, and my boss — Ashiya Chie. The person you call Chesha.”
“I see. Chie Ashiya — Chi-e-Ashi-ya — rearranged into Cheshire, after Alice in Wonderland. Fitting.”
Miyashita showed no reaction whatsoever. A puppet — no conversation to be had with her. The exchange continues, hollow, with me just tossing out barbs to no one listening.
“Setting aside whether the plan itself was justified — under Ashiya Chie’s instructions, you wrote the obituary that buried Akutagawa Alice. An interesting bit of scriptwriting.”
So I want to land a blow of my own. I want to prove I’m not a puppet anymore.
“But there’s no proof I’m Akutagawa Alice, is there? I checked the photos earlier — different eye color, bigger chest too. Claiming I’m the same person as some large-breasted woman like that feels almost like an insult to me.”
Miyashita lit a cigarette and spoke on.
“The title of the lead production written specifically for you was Amber-Colored Game of Love. A love story set in an authentic bar called Antiqua.”
Taking the shop’s name from that production wasn’t about clinging to the past.
I ran. But I didn’t want to keep running forever.
I wanted, at the very least, to see the role I was given through to the end — to finish the first and last lead role I was ever given.
“The lead character’s name was Shandy. A storyteller watching over the crisscrossing romances of the customers who pass through.”
I didn’t want to run from performing.
But I did want to run from my past.
And so I arrived at this place of purification, this space where reality and fiction cross paths — Antiqua.
Harmless lies, harmless fictions — they can heal a person’s heart. Maybe, by healing someone else, I wanted to heal myself too.
Miyashita stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette and clenched her fist.
“…You fell in love with your benefactor, Ashiya Chie. And Ashiya Chie accepted you in turn. For your sake — officially missing as you were — she did everything she could. Food, clothing, shelter, cash in place of the social benefits you could no longer receive.”
“I see.”
I keep quiet about it in front of Mikoto, but the Kyodo apartment isn’t a rental. Chesha bought it outright, and it’s still registered in her name.
“And even after all that was done for you, you betrayed your fiancée and mother-figure both in one, Ashiya Chie. In the four years she was away, you took up with another woman.”
That’s how it must look, through the eyes of Chesha’s puppet. A stray cat that repays every kindness twofold with betrayal, unable to attach itself to anyone.
Four years, she says — as if I hadn’t already grown bored of it and thrown it away within the first few months.
“…I can’t forgive it, you know.”
For the first time, something like real emotion crept into Miyashita’s flat voice.
“Do you have any idea how much affection she poured into someone like you? The great Chie-sama, no less…”
I understood then — this woman has suffered too.
Ashiya Chie is someone incapable of trusting others too.
“Someone as thoroughly poisoned and brainwashed as you, right down to the bone — you couldn’t possibly understand my grief, my pain.”
“Don’t insult Chie-sama.”
“Oh? But it’s you who’s really the one being insulted here, isn’t it?”
Even if I told her the truth of everything Chesha’s done, it probably wouldn’t land — not with this pitiful puppet, Miyashita Kanade.
Blinding people with false kindness, stripping them of free will and turning them into dolls — that’s simply how Ashiya Chie loves.
“…A message, from Chie-sama.”
Miyashita slapped a stack of bills down on the counter and spoke.
“First, we exposed Kurosu Kotone’s true nature. Depending on how you respond from here, we’ll expose the past of her lover, Shirai Rinko, next.”
The reason I drank until I was sick — Kotone-san’s scandal. That was Chesha’s doing, retaliation for me turning her away that night.
My fault.
“Manager Shirai Rinko used to work in the sex industry. Bring that to light, and Kurosu Kotone’s reputation is finished.”
“Hmm?”
“Next, Kurosu Mikoto. With the fallout from Kotone’s scandal, she’ll lose her standing at Hibiya. There’s unaccounted-for money in the planning department she belongs to. She’s the ringleader behind the embezzlement.”
If Chesha’s already announcing the plan, the arrangements are surely already in motion. There must be a puppet of hers inside Hibiya too, and the numbers have probably already been doctored. Pull the trigger, and Mikoto gets thrown behind bars.
“Their fate is in your hands. If you want peace and safety for your beloved friends, I trust you’ll make the wise choice. That’s all.”
“I see.”
I closed my eyes. And pitied her.
Pitied the sadness of Chesha, going to such lengths to drag back a love that had already ended.
“Would you pass a message along to Chesha for me? I’m going to become Charlotte Kurosu.”
“You’ll regret that.”
“Wouldn’t that make you happier, though?”
“………..”
I’m sorry, but a puppet isn’t my real enemy.
I know exactly how Chesha spreads her affection.
I know exactly how Chesha gets people to swallow her demands.
I know exactly how Chesha dominates people.
I’ve studied her methods inside and out. I was swallowed by them once myself — and it’s precisely because I broke free that I know how to handle them now. The one weapon I have, that Miyashita Kanade doesn’t.
“If you don’t want to lose Chesha, then kill me yourself, Miyashita Kanade-san.”
“What are you—”
I press a knife into her hand and pull it toward my own chest. Using the real thing felt too dangerous — if she lost her head, she really might kill me — so it’s a stage prop knife. I’ll cover the rest with acting.
I am the lead actress of this stage. No stepping down midway through. I won’t allow it, and I don’t want to.
“Let me teach you how to make Chesha turn back to you.”
I’ve decided to trust Mikoto and walk toward the future with her.
I can’t drag someone that precious into the rotten mess of my past.
“You want to show the person you love only your prettiest side, after all.”
“No way this is too cramped!”
Back in Kyodo, Mikoto couldn’t help but cry out at the entryway buried in shoes and the chaotic mix of perfumes from a house full of women.
“Welcome back, sis!”
“Sorry to intrude.”
“Sanae, pass the soy sauce!”
A 2 bedroom apartment too big for one person and just right for two now held nine, counting Mikoto. Kotone and Rinko, Aoi and Hifumi. Toko and her wife, who’d volunteered to help out. Sanae, straight from work. And on top of all that, Kuto and Michelle, who’d rushed over after seeing the news, pure nosy curiosity written all over them. If Shandy came home to this, it would be a genuine tragedy. Is the floor even going to hold? Mikoto wondered privately.
“Miko-nee! Was Shandy-san okay?”
She patted the worried Aoi’s head and managed a smile for now. She hadn’t been able to say what she wanted to say, but for the moment, knowing Shandy was safe would have to be enough.
Toko and Sanae worked busily on cooking duty in the kitchen, with Michelle pitching in to help. Kotone and Kuto — despite one of them being the actual center of the ongoing scandal — cackled away over drinks in the living room. Hifumi stroked Mimosa, who’d turned skittish after being suddenly surrounded by so many people. Scanning every face in the room, Mikoto realized someone was missing.
“Wait, where’s Rinko?”
“Balcony. Insisted on sleeping outside, even though she’s gonna catch a cold!”
“Ah…”
Cat allergies — no helping it, then. Beneath an absurd amount of laundry, Rinko lay stretched out in a camping recliner chair pulled from who-knows-where.
“…Sorry it’s so cramped. And Mimosa, too.”
“No, honestly, we’re the ones causing trouble here. Even if a few of these people are extra.”
“Ha…”
“How’d it go?”
The early-spring night air on the balcony still had a chill to it. Rinko, bundled in Mikoto’s winter down jacket, asked while sipping a steaming cup of café au lait.
“She brushed it off.”
“That woman really is the worst…”
“But I think maybe I pushed a little too hard, too.”
She really did want to rush things — but maybe rushing too hard wasn’t the right call either.
Shandy’s reluctance to let herself in, to show weakness — Mikoto understood it, in a way, because it wasn’t so different from herself.
“So for today, I’m satisfied just having gotten across that I’m thinking about it positively.”
“You’re way too kind, honestly…”
Rinko slumped her head down. Guilt washed over her — after everything Rinko had done for her, this was the outcome.
“Sor—”
“Don’t apologize. I was thinking maybe I’d been a little too pushy myself, anyway.”
Sipping the café au lait she’d been handed with a “want some?”, Mikoto looked up at the early-spring night sky. Between the city lights and the pollen drifting through the air, barely any stars were visible despite the clear weather — just a scattered handful of first-magnitude ones.
“About Kotone’s thing — we decided to just deny it as baseless. She’s going to explain it herself on her radio show next week, and that’ll be the end of it.”
“I see.”
Rinko’s expression flickered with something complicated, which she crushed with a sigh and a wry laugh.
“Kotone herself was all ‘let’s just come clean about it already,’ and Sanae-san said she’d handle explaining it to Hibiya’s PR department, so honestly that wasn’t a bad option either, but—”
“Well, it’s a tough call.”
“It’s a tough position, being a talent manager.”
Rinko muttered it quietly.
“Maybe that woman went through something like this too.”
“Shandy-san? Why?”
“Huh?”
Rinko’s eyes went wide.
“Wait, seriously, nobody told you? That she used to be an actress?”
“Oh, the dance thing? That was embarrassing, honestly…”
“No, no, seriously? How much of a secret-keeper is that woman?”
Rinko scrolled through her phone’s camera roll — nearly entirely filled with photos of Kotone — and stopped on an article. Dated four years ago.
“This is your fiancée’s past. An actress. Akutagawa Alice.”
“Eh…”
Mikoto finally learned it all.
That Shandy’s real name had once been the alias she’d claimed — Charlotte Gabriel. That her stage name had been Akutagawa Alice, that she’d once belonged to the Maverick theater troupe. Her birthday, November 24th. Calculating backward from her age at the time, she was currently 25. The photos looked nothing like the Shandy she knew, and yet — this was exactly the “Riddle Smith” who’d once appeared before her.
And that, technically, she should already be dead. Cause of death: suicide.
“No wayyy…”
“Yep, way. Confirmed it myself. Didn’t get her permission, though.”
“So Shandy-san’s younger than me…”
“That’s the part you focus on?”
The sensationally-written truth behind the suicide itself didn’t particularly bother her.
“I figured it was something close to that. If she said she’d been an actress, it’d make sense, and I figured there’d been all kinds of things in her past.”
“Adult composure?”
“No. She said she wanted to leave the past behind and live for the future. I decided to believe that.”
She wanted to help Shandy, still bound by her past. But she couldn’t force her way in suddenly. All Mikoto could do, then, was wait until Shandy had sorted things out for herself.
Shandy was fiercely independent, always trying not to burden anyone. Mikoto thought it would be fine if she leaned on someone a little more — but if that was how Shandy wanted it, she’d let her have it that way. Pushing further could wait until she was ready.
“Well. Annoyingly lucky, that Charlotte.”
“This is just how I love people.”
“Not embarrassed saying that about yourself?”
“That’s… please stop…”
She covered her face.
Just then, the glass door behind them slid open, and a reeking-of-alcohol Kotone threw her arms around her.
“Sis~! With this many women around, let’s have an orgy~!”
Even as her own sister, Mikoto recoiled in horror.
“Are you an idiot? Read the room.”
“Rinko-chan probably wants to embrace sis too, in all the chaos, right~? I kinda wanna make a move on Toko-nee too~”
“Sanae-san is going to kill you…?”
“I will kill you.”
A voice cold enough to freeze the spine drifted in. Just let her get killed, Mikoto thought wearily, when beside her, Rinko spoke up.
“…Okay, evacuation spot secured. Mikoto, you’re coming too, right?”
“Evacuation spot?”
Rinko’s phone screen showed photos of a campground.
“We’re leaving the city until the live broadcast next week. Safer to hide somewhere off the beaten path.”
“Mikoto-san’s leave request is already filed. Frankly, there was press camped outside the head office looking for you, so we’ve taken the necessary privacy measures.”
Lying low until the fuss died down — like some scandal-ridden politician, but she could see the logic in it. It seemed excessive, given that this was just a private life exposed, but in a way, maybe it was proof of just how popular Kotone had become.
“Got it. I’ll let Shandy-san know.”
“Camping, camping! Ahahaha!”
Since the actual center of the scandal, Kotone, was clearly having the most fun of anyone there, the entire room could do nothing but shoot her a collective look of disgust.