"So?" the president asked, glancing at the co-pilot seat with a puzzled look.
"Eyes on the road!" Haru Saitou snapped, startled by how casually the president was driving through traffic. "This is a busy street!"
"I've driven this route a hundred times. Relax," the president replied, thumping his chest confidently.
"I'm not worried about the road. I'm worried you'll forget the road!" Haru shot back. "I don't want to waste two good-luck charms in one day."
"After all these years? I've never had a serious accident," the president boasted.
"And that's supposed to be impressive?" Haru sneered. "Most crashes happen because people get too confident. Flying accidents are unlucky. Car crashes? Usually avoidable."
Switching gears, Haru leaned forward. "Anyway, do you know why idol salaries are so low?"
Ai, sitting in the backseat, perked up. "Why?"
"Because their pay already includes everything—costumes, props, staff fees, you name it. If their merch flops, the whole company bleeds money, and the idol goes down with it."
Ai blinked. "But those stars on TV…"
"Idols and celebrities might look similar," Haru explained, "but they're completely different beasts."
He took a breath. "Most idols debut in groups. They're nobodies at first. They've got to hustle—find venues, pull in a crowd, sell tickets. All the earnings go into paying dozens of people: choreographers, photographers, makeup artists, costume designers, lighting crews…"
Ai's eyes widened.
"So even if the gross income seems big," Haru continued, "what's left for the idol is barely enough to buy ramen."
"But stars…" he said, "They've already built up some fame. They can do solo concerts, sell their stage outfits, and get paid just to show up. They're invited to exclusive venues. They rake in money from movies, dramas, and variety shows. Totally different game."
Haru sighed. "Bottom line? Being an idol is a tough road."
"That's not just idols, though," the president argued. "Celebrities start from zero, too. Nobody's born famous. And top idols can shine just as bright as any star."
"True. But if you've got money from the start, you can buy better stages and better exposure. You rise faster."
Haru's expression turned grim. "And Berry Pro… we're small-time. Even if Ai's got top-tier talent, she's not going viral overnight. Most of the money from her CDs and merch? It goes to distributors. We can't even afford real marketing."
"If we can't get her on a real stage, her dreams stay just that—dreams."
That hit harder than expected.
The president slowed the car and turned into a small parking lot. "We're here. But this doesn't change your training plans for Ai, right?"
"Nope," Haru said, stretching as they stopped. "And it's the same reason I won't go easy on her."
The president eyed him with doubt.
They got out of the car. Ai stepped ahead to lead the way.
Hands behind his head, Haru added, "Like I said—I earned ten million yen just casually investing the last couple years. You get it now?"
The president frowned. "Only ten million? That's nothing." His company might be small, but their yearly revenue exceeded 100 million yen.
"You say that, but do you know how little idols actually make?" Haru replied. "I used that money to buy Ai six months of training."
He sighed, clearly annoyed. "This whole system sucks."
Ai glanced back. She looked like she was about to speak.
"Don't rush to reject me," Haru cut in. "I won't interfere with your daily life. Training happens after school only. You can quit anytime. If you agree, I'll transfer the 10 million yen immediately."
"You brat…" the president muttered. His glare said it all: Take it back before it's too late. But it was already too late.
"I'm not becoming an idol for money," Ai said firmly. "But if you're confident, fine. I'll train with the president for one month, then train with you for one month. After that, I'll decide."
Haru smirked. "Fair enough. When you're ready, I'll even organize a live performance. Just one."
"No problem~" Ai replied with a smile.
Then, out of nowhere, Haru asked, "What do you think of this orphanage?"
Ai blinked. "It's okay. Why?"
And
"No reason," Haru muttered. But the way she called herself a "lost girl" earlier… And now you call this place "okay"? Something didn't add up.
"Oh—she's still going to school, right?" Haru turned to the president.
"What kind of guy do you take me for?" the president barked. "Of course she's going to school! Dropping out's not an option!"
His face turned serious. "Don't think she can slack off just because she's making some money. Absolutely not."
"Yes, yes, got it," Haru muttered.
The orphanage was old. The sign on the door was peeling. Paint flaked off the walls like no one had bothered to care for years.
Not long after they stepped inside, an old man with gray hair saw Ai and called out warmly, "Ai, you're back! And who are these fine gentlemen?"
"This is the president of Berry Pro," Ai said sweetly. "And this is Haru Saitou."
The old man beamed. After some small talk, he took the president aside to his office for a private conversation.
Ai, meanwhile, was asked to show Haru around.
As they walked, Haru asked quietly, "You… don't actually like it here, do you?"