The Nishina Group headquarters loomed over Rin like a mountain of glass and steel. For three days straight, she'd been dragged into its endless hallways of suits, charts, and contracts.
On day one, she tried to look confident. On day two, she faked confidence. By day three, she was muttering to herself in the elevator like a madwoman.
"Okay, Rin," she whispered, clutching a stack of reports. "Don't screw this up. Numbers are just… numbers. Like rice grains. Millions of rice grains. Which you can totally count. Unless you drop them. Don't drop the rice. Or the contracts. Or your dignity."
A junior employee in the corner stared at her like she'd sprouted horns. Rin gave a nervous laugh. "Corporate pep talk. Very effective. You should try it."
The doors dinged open, and Rin escaped before the poor man could reply
Her father had insisted she sit in on logistics meetings. "If you're to inherit, you must understand the foundation," he'd said, his tone as sharp as the suits around him.
So Rin sat through endless presentations on fuel costs, shipping routes, and port negotiations.
Halfway through one particularly dry report, her eyes glazed over. She scribbled in her notebook:
If I survive this meeting without falling asleep, I deserve a medal.
When the manager clicked to the next slide, Rin drew a doodle of a ship sinking dramatically under the weight of pie charts.
Her father coughed. Rin snapped the notebook shut like it had caught fire.
Despite the chaos, Rin had moments of triumph. She caught a mistake in one report — a shipment scheduled to the wrong port.
"That's a thirty-million-yen correction," her father said, eyebrows raised.
Rin blinked. "So… I didn't just embarrass myself?"
His gaze softened for half a heartbeat. "Not this time."
Rin left the meeting room with her head high. In the hallway, she fist-pumped quietly. "Yes! I am business woman. Hear me… uh… negotiate."
A secretary walked past. Rin coughed into her fist. "Good morning."
At night, Rin collapsed into bed, her head full of contracts and whispers of Hana's smug smile.
She buried her face in the pillow. "Why are you everywhere, Hana? Like mold. Expensive mold with perfect hair."
She rolled over. "And why didn't I just say something when he looked at me? Ugh, Rin, you're hopeless. Next time, speak. Don't squeak."
Her phone buzzed with a message from Mai: Don't forget, you're a goddess. Own it.
Rin laughed into the dark. "More like a gremlin in a blazer."
It happened on the third day.
Rin had just finished a meeting and was heading toward the lobby when a familiar voice called out. Smooth, sharp, unmistakable.
"Well. If it isn't the heiress herself."
Rin's shoulders stiffened. She turned slowly.
Hana stood by the glass doors, elegant in a white dress that probably cost more than Rin's monthly budget. Her smile was soft, but her eyes glittered.
"What are you doing here?" Rin asked cautiously.
"Visiting a contact," Hana said lightly. "Business, of course. Not that it's any of your concern." She tilted her head, studying Rin. "Though I suppose business is your concern now, isn't it? How… quaint."
Rin crossed her arms. "Quaint?"
Hana's smile sharpened. "You, sitting in meetings, pretending you belong. It's almost charming, like a child trying on her father's shoes."
Rin bristled. "Funny. Because yesterday I corrected a report that would've cost thirty million yen."
That knocked Hana off balance for half a second — so small most people wouldn't notice. Rin noticed.
Then Hana chuckled. "Impressive. But one correction doesn't make you a leader. Do you really think men who've run this industry for decades will follow you? You're a storm, Rin. Loud, messy… and temporary."
Rin's jaw tightened. She wanted to snap back, but her voice betrayed her before she could think:
"Better a storm than a shadow."
Hana's smile froze.
Rin continued, her voice steadier now. "You play games in the dark, Hana. You hover, you smile, you cling. But storms? They change things. They don't ask permission."
For once, Hana didn't have a quick retort. She adjusted her purse, mask slipping back into place. "We'll see how long your storm lasts."
With that, she swept past her, heels clicking like gunfire.
Rin stood in the lobby, her heart hammering against her ribs. Her palms were sweaty, her mind replaying every word, every glare. Did I just sound clever? Or completely ridiculous?
She let out a shaky breath and muttered under her breath, "Ugh, Rin, you need a scoreboard for these things."
"Scoreboard says you won," a voice whispered suddenly.
Rin yelped and nearly dropped her folder. She spun around — and there, leaning casually against the corner wall like he'd been there all along, was Kazehiro.
"When did you—how long were you—" Rin stammered, clutching her chest.
Kazehiro chuckled, eyes crinkling with mischief. "Long enough to see you hold your ground. Not many women can stand up to Hana's pride without cracking. You did great."
Rin blinked at him, stunned. "Wait, you were just… watching?"
"Observing," Kazehiro corrected smoothly, pushing off the wall. "It's one of my hobbies. Right up there with driving and watching Hayate pretend he doesn't care."
Before Rin could find a reply, he straightened, glancing toward the glass doors where Hana had disappeared. His grin widened. "And now, I need to get back to the car before Hana arrives there before me. She hates when I keep her waiting."
He gave a short laugh, almost boyish despite his sharp suit, and started walking away. "Good work, Rin. Keep it up. You'll need it."
And just like that, he was gone, his laughter trailing behind him.
Rin stared after him, baffled. "Does everyone in Hayate's life just… appear out of nowhere to confuse me?"
A passerby gave her a strange look. Rin coughed into her fist. "Corporate… networking. Very advanced."
The man hurried off.
Rin sighed, pressing her back to the cool glass wall. Despite her nerves, despite Hana's words still stinging, a small smile tugged at her lips.
Someone had seen her. Someone had believed she wasn't weak.
And for now, that was enough.