Wager (8)
Iris had always been quite greedy ever since she was little. And greed inevitably led to friction. Truly. From a young age, Iris was constantly getting into trouble. If not for the Arisugawa name, she would have been scolded by adults countless times for the fights she picked. A willful tomboy miss—that was the common impression of the household staff who worked for the Arisugawas.
On top of that, she had a rather dictatorial motto. It went like this: "If you want something, make damn sure you get it."
For generations, it was utterly pathetic for Arisugawa blood to swallow their anger over failing to claim what they desired. And so, Iris had lived a life befitting the emperor of the heavens, upholding her motto without bringing shame to the Arisugawa estate more than anyone else.
Want an object? Iris would obtain it by any means necessary, short of anything illegal. Most things she solved with money, anyway. Unlike others, she never lacked funds to achieve her goals.
Want a skill? Similarly, Iris would obsessively master it without regard for method. Her voice, in particular, was the talent she craved most—and the one she was born with. She didn't have the monstrous versatility to be called a freak like Sakuraba Sakuya, but Iris was talented enough to be dubbed a prodigy, and singing was her standout gift.
Yet even Iris, who seemed poised to conquer everything, had one unfulfilled dream: a band. Rock bands were something every Japanese person encountered at least once, and it was her sole unattained goal. That blemish and trauma from her one failed challenge still bound her tightly, even years later.
Some say the brighter the light, the deeper the shadow. Similarly, the more BARD shone, the fiercer Iris's heart burned.
"I want to be like BARD."
It hadn't started that way. It was their unique free-spiritedness, walking their own path heedless of others' opinions. Their defiance against unfair treatment from broadcasters in their indie days, succeeding spectacularly and confirming their spot on Kohaku Uta Gassen just over two years after major debut. Standing tall against the discomfort of network execs, captivating the public and stepping onto Music Station merely two months after majoring.
Iris, who had witnessed BARD's path by chance from their indie era, envied them deeply. Worried by their eccentric actions, wondering why they acted that way—yet admiring them. She was instinctively drawn to something BARD possessed that she lacked. Maybe that's why she wanted to become like them.
BARD... Tenma Izumi, that fiercely beautiful woman, filled a void Iris didn't have.
"I can do it too."
When the iron is hot, strike it. Without deep deliberation, Iris dove headfirst into the band that always set her heart racing, just like always. She started with guitar. And fanning over BARD.
Her obsessive nature meant she hoarded even grains of sand-like info on BARD. She wanted to claim superior ground as a fan over other fans. Looking back, Iris's feelings toward BARD seemed closer to twisted obsession than pure fandom.
"That's the right way to put it." Iris admitted readily.
But interest turned to obsession, obsession to affection, affection to full-blown love—and beautiful flowers bloomed. Despite her lofty pride, Iris surprisingly fell in love easily. She fell for BARD.
They say you come to resemble what you love. Her desire to be like them grew stronger with each passing day. Even as she tailed Tae-il, Iris's mind endlessly compared herself to BARD.
"It's not impossible. I could have done it too!"
If only she'd had a bit more luck with people. If her musical foundation had advanced just one step further. If there had been even one member— just one— who would unconditionally follow or support her...!
"I would have succeeded. Even Papa would have acknowledged me."
If she'd succeeded young like Izumi and proven she could stand on her own... Iris was convinced she could have escaped her suffocating cage and soared freely in the open sky.
"Shin Tae-il..."
Iris's eyes narrowed as she glared at Tae-il crossing the crosswalk with infuriating leisure. She bit her lip.
Shin Tae-il. This pitiful boy with strangely low self-esteem was the sole talent who could wash away her trauma and blemish.
As a middle schooler agonizing over high schools, Iris secretly praised herself for choosing Yuuma High. Normally, she should have gone to the mission school for young ladies in the neighboring district. But she didn't. Clutching a sliver of hope, she chose Yuuma High, where kids excelling in arts and athletics gathered.
Zenjiro eyed her reckless choice with displeasure, but since he was on decent terms with the chairman, he permitted her deviation. But were her expectations too high? Iris was disappointed.
Yuuma brimmed with true talents—even Iris, raised alongside Rena's gifts, was impressed. But was this an art school? There were far more classical performers than the popular music and bands she craved.
Unlike the officially run brass band or choir clubs, the five Light Music Clubs were far below her hopes in skill. They were just students enjoying music as a hobby. She never imagined most Light Music Club members would be from the academic track rather than the free track.
"That's why."
To Iris, Shin Tae-il was an unexpected treasure. Even if his skills fell short, she didn't care. Just his rudimentary composing ability was reason enough—overflowing, even—to recruit him.
But upon unwrapping the package, Shin Tae-il exceeded her expectations. To the point where she couldn't fathom his low self-esteem. His foreign background was a minor drawback, but beyond skill, he appealed to her immensely.
"Prime candidate for BARD's 0th gen #1 fan..."
BARD had long openly discussed their 0th gen fan with fans, calling them the fateful red thread connecting them. Fans weren't thrilled at one influencing artists, but no one objected much. They were grateful, and the fan never revealed themselves even after BARD's major success and nationwide fame. All fans praised this true devotee who hid for the artists' sake.
But when Izumi announced finding them, fandom opinion shifted rapidly—mostly negative. Whether BARD found them or they came forward, fans didn't know. But now, it unsettled the fandom. As BARD shed their old style for experimental albums, fans' anxiety peaked.
Iris trusted BARD's musicianship and Izumi's talent, so unlike others, she wasn't worried. Instead, delving deeper bred all sorts of dark thoughts.
"If Shin Tae-il really is the 0th gen fan..."
It meant connections to Tenma Izumi, whose parents were fixtures in Japan's music scene.
"Not just during indie days."
Perhaps even major debut help. Iris thrilled. Tae-il's leisurely pace left her breathless, heart pounding like a sprint.
Infinite fandom and love for BARD. Desire for musical success to regain her father's gaze. And craving freedom from the Arisugawa cage. She'd even dragged Rena in, albeit voluntarily. No turning back.
When there's no retreat, only forward, a captain's priority is checking her crew. "Right. This is just essential verification that Shin Tae-il won't hinder future band activities. Of course."
Iris wanted to prove he'd sail fine—better, be a huge asset. She wanted to lean on faith in him. Pretending calm, she was desperate. On the vast sea, they'd navigate by faint starlight. Success demanded any means. That's why she couldn't cast him off, even if he stirred unease.
"This guy's seriously oblivious..."
Iris tucked her chin, shrugging. Distance: mere ten paces. Her bizarre outfit drew fierce stares, but she decided to flaunt the tailing. Better than some hunter approaching. Getting caught by others didn't matter—as long as the target didn't notice.
"No one here knows I'm Iris anyway?"
Her disguise emboldened her—nay, brazened her. Tae-il, earphones in, oblivious. Iris grew bolder. Ten paces to five. Her shadow cleverly avoided him.
Arms behind back, humming, she tailed. When he paused to fiddle with his smartphone, she turned away casually. To third parties, it wasn't tailing anymore—but she was dead serious. Trench coat collar up, hands in pockets: a cartoon detective possessed her.
Ten minutes matching his stride. Past crowded downtown to quiet residential near a park. Such areas usually had bakeries, homestyle diners, cafes. Iris scanned buildings over his shoulder.
A whole building-run cafe: Cafe Muse—simple sign, jarringly out of place.
"That place is definitely..."
A distant relative from some forgotten branch, desperate for her favor at a family gathering, raved about its desserts. Strictly reservation-only, pricey drawback. But worth it for aficionados.
"Oh no..."
Iris gnawed her thumb. Meeting BARD, no less. Should've anticipated tight security. She halted behind a utility pole, widening distance.
Oblivious Tae-il eyed his phone and the cafe alternately, then nodded—confirmation it was the spot.
Iris raised her collar, muttering softly.
"Kiriko. You there?"
"Not spotted. More importantly, Cafe Muse—any reservations open now?"
While anxiously watching Tae-il enter, Kiriko's awaited voice came.
"What?"
"Not usually?"
A cafe always holding spares fully booked today? And Shin Tae-il meeting BARD's bassist Yahiro there? Suspicion hardened to certainty.
"They're practically begging to be suspected."
"Kiriko. You know my motto, right?"
Iris smirked, pulling a long wallet from her coat pocket and checking its contents. Filled with 10,000-yen bills. Emergency cash time to shine.
"Kiriko. Know what?"
"People say money can't buy happiness?"
Nonsense. To those fools, Iris wanted to say:
"They're just broke."
"Money makes people happy and turns impossible into possible. If not, think backwards."
Not that happiness can't be bought with money—but maybe they lacked the cash to buy that happiness.
"I'm off to cause some trouble?"
"Dunno."
To Iris, it was a gamble. Risking a blacklist from BARD—beloved across genres and seniors/juniors alike—before even indie debut. But worth it. A 50/50 shot at losing everything or gaining it all—anyone would take it.
"Kiriko, gonna go slap some faces with cash."
Iris ended the call. Draped her coat over her arm, steadied her breath.
"Alright."
She stepped forward boldly. Knocked on Cafe Muse's door, where Tae-il had entered.
"Atchoo!"
Mori Yuuya, deep in video editing, sneezed. She rubbed her nose, glancing around.
"Weird..."
She touched her forehead cautiously—no fever, no cold symptoms. Poor ventilation? Yuuya stood, opened the window wide.
Just past noon, intense sun blazed. She shaded her eyes with her hand, gazing at the clear sky.
"Nice weather..."
Extroverted peers were likely out savoring youth. Introverted Yuuya didn't envy them.
She grabbed cold water from the fridge, gulped from a glass, and sat back at her laptop.
"Gotta finish quick..."
Smartphone streamed editing tutorials; laptop handled the work. More footage than usual: usual vlog, Tae-il collab, his performance clip. Most effort on today's shoot.
"To prevent Tae-chi's worries..."
Edit naturally fun, avoiding any anti-fan image for Tae-il. Yuuya wanted to do what he couldn't for his gathered members.
She recalled her 1st-year senior always picking fights. Bad memories, but a diehard K-pop fangirl who loved proselytizing.
"Mori, you like idols? K-pop idols."
"No...?"
"Too bad. Our school's kids surprisingly aren't into that. Idiots. Fakes who don't know real culture."
Senior sighed, praising K-pop Yuuya barely cared for. Idol looks comparisons trashed even famous actors Yuuya knew.
Yuuya avoided her. Sailor uniform with blatant chest/bra emphasis killed any friendliness. Plus, clubroom visits meant hogging the sofa, watching idol vids babbling unknown Korean all day over animal care.
Seeking peaceful club time, Yuuya tried charm.
"Senior, what's that show?"
"Stage direct cam."
"Like live footage?"
"Yeah. Interested?"
Yuuya kept peeking at senior's phone mid-task; senior grinned, flashing canine.
"Group called Condenser Boys. More vids?"
Thinking Yuuya hooked, senior eagerly showed: direct cams, fan edits, kirinuki. Idol industry's scale hit home—endless variety.
"So many videos?"
"Subbed too? Makes me happy. Keeps sources flowing for overseas fans like me."
"Famous group? Lots of broadcast footage..."
"Most non-stage are agency-made. Self-produced variety for fans and promo, not TV. Cute, right?"
Senior showed pretty boy winking cutely, finger heart. Yuuya tilted her head.
"Cute...?"
She eyed the terrapin eating shrimp from her hand.
"These guys are cuter..."
But saying so meant hassle, so she stayed quiet.
"Phew."
Even now, noisy woman, Yuuya ended the memory.
"Not much help, but..."
Her meddling idol tales proved useful. Yuuya noted fans re-editing official vids, mass-producing for global sharing.
"If I make Tae-chi fan vids..."
Could help his band debut later. Featuring him in Animal Husbandry Club vids built hype.
Yuuya swallowed cold mouthwash water.
"Phew. Back to work."
Saving money with home haircut left asymmetrical side; she swept it back casually, resuming edits.