Chapter 144
Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 144
Chapter Title: Dream (2)
"The negotiations have broken down."
Since 25% of the company was on the line, he'd thought there might be some hesitation, but with such a clean rejection, even the proposer could walk away without regrets.
Of course, it was hard to give up entirely when someone as enticing as Legend was involved, but what could he do?
He couldn't exactly resort to brute force.
Legend stood up from his seat.
It was about time Myth started waiting for him anyway.
"...The alleys can be complicated."
"It's fine. I've got it all memorized in my head."
"...I see. Is your phone not getting any signal?"
"Yes."
"Then take mine. If you get lost, just call the number at the top of my contacts. Mika will pick up. Feel free to use it for international calls or whatever else you need—no worries."
Legend accepted the president's kindness.
Not that it was much in return, but still.
Legend opened his mouth.
"President. No, Asahi."
"Yes, I'm listening. Legend."
"What is your dream, sir?"
Dream.
That single word stopped Asahi in his tracks.
It was strange.
He'd thought he could answer immediately.
Asahi fell silent for a long while.
Spinning some excuse would be easy, but those strangely radiant eyes of Legend's made the words stick in his throat.
Legend left those words behind and departed.
▶
Once out of the cafe, Legend immediately called Myth using the president's phone.
No need to check the contacts.
Of course he had it memorized.
- Who is this?
"It's me. Myth."
The voice that had answered stiffly from the unfamiliar number melted away the moment she heard his.
- Seol-ah! Where have you been? No phone signal, and I heard you went off with President Asahi—are you okay?!
"Yeah. He just treated me to lunch at a great place. We talked a bit. Heading back now."
- Say something next time. Please. You nearly gave me a heart attack.
Hm?
Wasn't the usual line something like "I nearly died"?
Eh, just a slip of the tongue.
- Got it. Hurry back then. Hanging up?
"No, can you wait a sec?"
He quickly stopped Myth from hanging up.
Since they weren't face-to-face right now, there was something he could say more freely over the phone.
"Thanks. Myth."
- Huh? My heart's skipping—what's up?
"Nothing, really. Just wanted to say it."
With that said, he ended the call quickly.
I wonder if Myth knew what he was thanking her for.
Legend closed his eyes and recalled the day he first met Sara.
The day he'd been scared his work might harm Myth, might knock her from her perch as the top VTuber, and tried to refuse her request.
'I want you to be you.'
On that sunset rooftop at the company, amid all his weighing of options, she'd told him it was okay to just be himself.
If Myth hadn't said that then, would he have ended up like President Asahi?
Offering a quiet thanks to the Myth who'd preserved his innocence, his steps quickened just a little.
He wanted to see Myth today.
More than usual.
As always, but just a bit more.
▶
In the antique cafe, now empty save for the elderly gentleman and Asahi after Legend left.
Watching Asahi rub his dry face repeatedly, the old man sat across from him.
"Weren't you open for business?"
"Couldn't resist teasing a friend who'd taken a hit. Shop's closed for now."
Keh heh heh.
The old man sat down across from him without holding back his chuckle, pulling out a bottle of liquor.
A rather antique-looking bottle, far too expensive to open on a whim. But the old man uncorked it boldly and filled two glasses with large ice cubes, handing one to each.
"You took a hit, eh, Asahi."
"...A hit? You can barely understand Korean anyway."
"Even if the words don't come through, the feeling does."
Even across language barriers, if you can't grasp the meaning.
The heat contained within transcends it.
That was what the old man had felt from Legend.
Pure, passionate, and blazing hot.
How long had it been since he'd seen such a pure flame in these Tokyo back alleys crowded with companies?
"A pure boy. No wonder you feel ashamed, Asahi."
"Ashamed? Me?"
"Poor choice of words. Not ashamed, but—"
The old man paused, picking up his glass with two fingers and waving it before him.
...Always so skilled at steering conversations.
Under the silent pressure to clink glasses if he wanted to hear more, Asahi raised his own.
Not sake fragrant with aged rice, but bourbon rich with oak barrel aroma.
...At least 50,000 yen a bottle, no doubt.
Self-mocking at the money swirling in his head even now, Asahi clinked glasses with the old man.
The dizzying alcohol and complex flavors slid down his throat into his stomach.
There were a few meetings left after this, but whatever.
Prf.
The pleasant buzz after the strong drink tingled up his throat, a faint intoxication mixing with his exhaled sigh.
Asahi slammed his glass down on the table with an audible clack!, as if to say he'd played along, now it was the old man's turn.
The old man nodded and drained his glass in an instant.
The small glass with large ice meant there wasn't much liquor to begin with.
Letting out a satisfied sigh like Asahi's, the old man spoke.
"You're jealous of the boy's purity, aren't you?"
"...That's what you were getting at? I'm 45 now, Master."
"Age doesn't matter for purity."
The old man chuckled heartily.
Damn.
That laugh was so pure, Asahi hung his head.
A man at least 60, laughing with such unadulterated joy—something Asahi couldn't even dream of mimicking. He had nothing to say.
"Time flows mercilessly, but I remember. The young boy who came up to Tokyo one day, mistook the company for his interview, and sat here tense and nervous."
"...That was ages ago."
Heh heh.
The old man didn't bother replying.
What he aimed to do wasn't a frank chat or answers, but to remind the man of what he'd forgotten.
No need to stir up noise from over a decade of wandering.
Moments later, Asahi refilled the glasses from the bottle. The old man's first, then his own.
Without a word, he raised it again and gulped it down.
"To be honest, I'm too old to—"
Asahi looked at the old man.
A long acquaintance.
The man who'd retired in his mid-40s to open his own 'bar,' carving out this little spot in a Tokyo back alley.
Knowing this bar was his dream, Asahi chose his words.
"No, 'worn out' is more accurate."
"I understand. Society's like that."
Living in society, you realize it.
Or even just going to college shows you.
There are far more people compromising with reality than dreamers.
Even those with grand dreams get battered by the world, molded by society's gaze, and before you know it, the dream's unrecognizable.
At least, a single drink and old ties might not unearth it if it's that broken.
Asahi mocked himself.
The words still echoed in his head.
My dream? What is it?
Well.
What was it again?
When did I start thinking anything short of number one is meaningless?
From the moment I shouldered this company, from the moment money's chains choked me—
What have I been living for all these years?
Unable to find the answer, Asahi sipped his drink quietly.
In the old, familiar bar's song and air, tilting glasses with a close friend.
▶
Asahi returned to the company late evening, when most lights were off.
...The president skipping work to get drunk and stumble back.
The board—those money-mad pigs—would love to chew him out for it.
'What is your dream?'
Well, not like I can say much.
Come to think of it, why did I even try to recruit Legend?
'The company's performance lately is unacceptable!'
'Major shareholders are pulling investments, bruised pride that some Korean individual outdoes us.'
'We must snag Myth at any cost!'
'Squeezing more out of the VTubers is an option. They're taking too big a cut.'
'We're a company! Sure, we care for VTubers, but other employees matter too.'
Haa.
Back in the early days, we didn't take outsiders.
Even if it was for investment, working with money-crazed pirates was always a hassle.
The guards bowed in greeting; probably just the overtime animation team left in the building.
From a tiny one-room start, he'd built this up, yet why did the office feel so hollow tonight?
He swiped his executive card key on the elevator, and it shot straight to the top floor.
No point going home—wife was at her parents' tonight, house empty.
Might as well crash in the office.
The elevator stopped, and Asahi opened his office door.
A cozy room, less an executive suite without a desk or chair—just for a select few the president approved.
A woman sat inside, waiting for him.
"Mika?"
"You finally showed. Asahi. President's ditching for drinks?"
"Drinking's part of the job."
Asahi ignored her and sank into his sofa.
"Why are you here?"
"Just waiting before clocking out. Got something to say."
"Something to say?"
What could it be?
Exhausted and craving sleep, but the mood wasn't right for that yet.
Grabbing his pounding head from the belated hangover, Asahi sighed.