1988 - Training (1)
1988 - Training (1)
"How long will the inspection take?"
"About an hour."
That's longer than I thought.
I figured it would take a decent amount of time since it includes psychological counseling, but still.
"...Do you have something to say, Madam?"
Madam hadn't stopped observing me, staring intently since earlier.
She was like that last time too, but now it's even more blatant.
Even for someone like me, this level is starting to feel burdensome.
"No. It's nothing."
"Is that so."
I turned my gaze back to the book.
'It would be nice to have a few maids... But I probably don't need that many yet.'
Anyway, right now I'm living in a small house with Ara, so there's no need to increase the number of servants yet.
But I should prepare for when the house gets a bit bigger.
If the house gets bigger without any employees, there really are a lot of annoying chores.
I had no idea until I moved into a mansion in my previous life.
'Besides, I need to spend money sparingly.'
To be precise, should I say money feels a bit more precious now compared to before?
Now that I've transferred all the cash from the duffel bag to K&M, I have to make cash expenditures from the family office account at BE.
Money that will multiply in value thousands, tens of thousands of times.
If I spend it now, I lose all that future value.
Being too frugal can backfire, but conversely, spending recklessly and not having it when I really need it would be a problem in its own way, so I need to balance it well.
'Should I leave this to Ara?'
It's about time for Ara to gradually transition from a comfort object to a secretary role.
I can't go around hiring people forever.
Eventually, Ara will have to participate in auctions and bring in the necessary people.
'I need to give her some training. It'll be problematic if she keeps living with only a petty bourgeois perspective forever.'
First, she probably needs training to improve her discernment.
"Ah, by the way, can I also get a catalog for the male side?"
At my words, Madam rolled her big eyes.
That's not what it's for?!
"Ahem-. I think I'll need some former soldiers, security guards, or bodyguards."
I quickly added an explanation.
Nabi has many female members too.
The auctions are held separately, so the two groups are largely unaware of each other's existence.
'I need to secure such important personnel in advance.'
It's not that I didn't have bodyguards in previous cycles.
I just never expected such a large-scale gunfight to happen right in the heart of Beijing.
'It will likely be the same in this life. It's inevitable that the existence of my longevity gene will be revealed.'
That's why I absolutely must create a PMC and an intelligence organization.
And on a national scale at that.
I have some reliable candidates, but since they'll be discharged after the Gulf War ends, using Nabi to hire them right now is the best option.
"Please wait a moment."
Madam disappeared somewhere, still wearing a delicate expression.
Probably going to get a book.
And at that moment.
'...Huh?'
A notification from the Status Window that appeared before my eyes.
Was there supposed to be one now?
The notifications for getting coins disappear if I ignore them, but this one remained persistently in front of my eyes.
'Status Window.'
Opening the Status Window, sure enough.
'Good timing.'
───────────
<Traits>
[A-0 Gene]
[- Empty -]
[- Locked -]
[- Locked -]
.
.
.
[- Locked -]
Held Assets: $20,000,200
Roulette Spins: 1
───────────
My assets had broken through a whopping 20 million dollars, increasing the number of roulette spins.
Whether Firestone's value increased, or something happened at Corpers, or maybe the Nikkei skyrocketed.
Looking at the growth rate, the Nikkei is the most likely, but that's not important right now, so I'll skip it.
'It feels newly poignant all over again.'
The seed money for the family office was a mere 2 million dollars.
Achieving a 900% return in just 2 months.
Regression, and the Status Window, were this cheat-like.
'Then, shall I spin the roulette...'
"Here you go. How would you like to handle the payment?"
My thoughts were cut off by Madam.
The roulette isn't urgent anyway, so I can spin it at home later, right?
Let's handle the business here first.
"Thank you. Let's deduct it from the deposit at the next auction."
I took the book, but.
"...Hmm-."
I only let out a groan, unable to bring myself to open it.
The cover alone is extraordinary.
I definitely need staff.
And I did request it because I need it.
But do I really have to assess them through this book?
I feel a physiological aversion.
Why do I have to carefully read a collection of half-naked men wearing only briefs?
If they were bodybuilders, I could at least admire their physiques, but...
"Is there a recommended page?"
In the end, I had no choice but to ask Madam that.
Call me a coward if you want, I can't help it.
Just the cover alone evaporated my courage to even read the interviews.
"Looking at the conditions you seek, pages 72 and 199. Just those two."
I immediately opened the two pages.
'...Ugh, my eyes!'
It's painful.
Why is this Saha World filled only with suffering?!
'Useless.'
Moreover, reading the interview content, they weren't the talents I wanted either!
I just wasted a good 10,000 dollars for nothing.
I lit a cigarette.
"Inhale-. Exhale-."
I'll pass on bodyguards for this quarter.
Anyway, until I get a bit older, there won't be such serious threats, so let's be steady but not rush.
"Boss?"
"You're here?"
"Was there something?"
"Nothing. Just, um..."
Instead of answering, I spread my arms.
Ara, who had finished her inspection, hopped and jumped into my embrace.
It's healing.
It's really strange.
I didn't get this feeling when I held Diana, Madam, or Elizabeth.
'Is it because of the age difference?'
Other than being small and cute, is that degree the only difference?
The difference in the number of crow's feet?
"Member-nim."
"Yes?"
"Member-nim?"
"What's the matter?"
"There's no particular reason, but I find it extremely unpleasant."
"?"
Why are you looking at me with such a scary gaze?
I didn't say anything.
"Unni?"
"Ah, I'm sorry. Ara-yang. A sudden unpleasant feeling came over me. I'm still quite immature."
Madam tilted her head and bowed in apology.
Well, I really don't understand.
Women are indeed more difficult than stocks.
"When is the next quarter's auction?"
"It's still undecided. I'll contact you once it's set."
"Please do. Let's go."
"Yes. See you next time. Unni."
"Please both take care on your way back."
And so we left Nabi.
"Let's eat out today."
"Okay. Then I'll make a reservation..."
"We can go without one."
I'm thinking of having Korean food for the first time in a while.
"But before that, let's start learning the next step."
"Next step?"
I nodded and started the car.
The destination is Bergdorf Goodman.
"Have you been here before?"
"...No."
As I thought.
Bergdorf Goodman, a high-end department store, would have been incompatible with Ara.
It's not that she couldn't enter.
Given Ara's personality, that's probably how it was.
Such high-end department stores assign dedicated staff to customers in shabby attire or those who seem to have low purchasing power.
And they persistently use "Sir/Ma'am, is there anything I can help you with?" or "How may I assist you?"—pressure disguised as kindness—to make them leave out of discomfort.
That's the official manual's response method.
Of course, East Asian men are an exception.
Without Japanese tourists, sales would tank.
Anyway, Ara is surprisingly weak to that kind of pressure.
Does she have some kind of inferiority complex or low self-esteem?
"Let's go in."
"Y-yes..."
Ara swallowed hard the moment we opened the department store door and entered.
What greeted us was a mountain of luxury handbags.
"Wow-."
Ara began looking around, letting out an exclamation.
It seems handbags indeed emit a dark magic that bewitches women.
It wouldn't be bad to browse here step by step, but.
The purpose isn't window shopping.
"Not there. To the 5th floor."
I headed straight for the elevator.
The destination is the 5th floor's Fiorucci.
While waiting for the elevator, a staff member who was about to approach Ara upon seeing her, turned her back and returned to her spot after seeing me.
Judging people by their attire seems vulgar at a glance, but somehow.
In the end, isn't it not much different from me judging based on Ara's appearance and conditions?
Just as being handsome or pretty gives you an advantage, attire is like that too.
Ding-!
We got off the elevator and arrived in front of the Fiorucci store.
That Fiorucci from "The Devil Wears Fiorucci."
A brand that's commonplace, considered mid-range to some.
A brand that's desperately desired, sophisticated high-end to others.
At least in this era, Fiorucci has quite a lot of stylish clothes.
Clothes that don't look tacky even with future sensibilities.
"Pick some out."
"Huh?"
I said, looking at Ara.
"I need to see what kind of eye you have. Try picking some out yourself first."
"Yes, yes."
She was all hunched over.
The first thing she looks at is the price tag.
"Eeek?!"
She has a long way to go.
"Price tags are forbidden."
"...But..."
"Inhale."
"They're too expensive."
"Enough, stop worrying about money and just pick."
Even though she had a significant expenditure for Lily's hospital bills, fundamentally, she's a millionaire.
And yet she still has a petty bourgeois mindset, for goodness' sake.
Ara began picking out clothes, looking around quite meticulously.
Her taste isn't bad.
Clothes that aren't too old-fashioned, nor excessively radical.
She's picking safe, unassuming designs.
Well, Fiorucci does have an understated sophistication.
"Then go try them on."
She picked a few outfits and was looking at me for approval, so I sent her to the fitting room.
You have to try clothes on yourself.
I also picked out a few outfits.
Women's clothing.
"Uh, how is it?"
Ara came out of the fitting room and asked shyly, bowing her head.
A generally neat office look.
Not just taken from the display, but clothes she matched herself, piece by piece.
As expected, she has sense, she's just still raw.
With this, I probably don't need to teach her this and that.
If she just comes often and tries things on, she'll naturally realize.
"Good. Set that aside, and now try these on."
I handed over the clothes I had picked out earlier.
Ara, who seemed flustered, blinking her eyes, soon took the clothes I gave her and went back into the fitting room, then came out again.
"Does it... suit me?"
A look trying hard not to show she likes it.
On her face, which shows no expression outside my embrace, something resembling an expression appeared for the first time in a long while.
Actually, Ara isn't very good as a model.
Her physique is one thing, but her appearance itself is too youthful.
Even so, the fact that there are clothes that suit her shows Fiorucci's sense, I suppose.
Stimulating clothes that cover what should be covered and show what should be shown.
But not vulgar.
It suits her well.
There are parts that look a bit unnatural because of her youthful appearance, but.
Even considering that, it's fine.
"You can tell by looking in the mirror. How is it?"
"This is... a bit burdensome, but..."
"You know yourself, right?"
"Yes. This is... much prettier."
If you have eyes, even Ara herself would know which suits her better.
She'll have to wear office looks depending on the situation, but.
Ara fiddled with the clothes I picked out, not thinking of taking them off.
She likes them.
Well, my eyes can't be wrong.
"Good. Then bring those and follow me."
It wouldn't be bad to stay here and shop leisurely, but that's for another time.
What I want to show her isn't simply luxury brand money-burning.
We took the shopping bags and left the department store.
The moment we stepped out, an employee got out of a car parked in front of us and handed over the car keys.
An autonomous driving service that delivers the car right to the entrance without even having to ask.
Ara seemed surprised upon realizing this.
"Thank you for your hard work."
I handed a 10-dollar bill to the employee and got in the car.
"Are we going home now?"
"No. Next, we're going to SoHo."
The next destination is SoHo.
SoHo isn't yet the complex, tumultuous street of the future.
It's a quite cozy street filled with artists' lofts and galleries.
It's a nice place, except for the occasional drug-addled humans shooting guns bang-bang.
The moment we arrived in SoHo and got out of the car.
"...Huh?"
"What's the matter?"
Two people caught my eye, pulling an enormously large painting out of an old warehouse.
A painting I've never seen before.
Moreover, that graffiti-like yet somehow rough style, full of anger and despair...
"Basquiat?"
Did he paint something like that too?