The first semester of Ren Kaido's third year as a management student had barely begun, and already, his life was a blur of half-finished assignments, broken alarm clocks, and cheap instant coffee. His one-room apartment sat in an old, four-story building only a few minutes from campus, but somehow that short distance always seemed to stretch infinitely each morning.
He shoved the last piece of toast into his mouth as he threw on his jacket, the sleeves still damp from last night's rain. His phone buzzed with a dozen unread notifications—group chats, reminders, his part-time manager's messages—but he ignored them all. He was already late. Again.
By the time he sprinted across the campus courtyard, the sun was already high, the early-morning chill fading into sticky warmth. He could feel the sweat under his collar, the weight of his backpack slapping against his side. The lecture hall for Business Communication loomed ahead, and through the open door he could already hear her voice.
Professor Ayaka Sato.
Ren slowed instinctively, catching his breath at the threshold. She stood near the podium, arms folded, a calm but commanding presence in a fitted pencil skirt and cream blouse. Her tone was sharp, each word deliberate, the kind that made every student unconsciously sit straighter.
Ren knew he was doomed the moment her eyes found him.
"Mr. Kaido," she said, voice cutting through the quiet murmurs like a blade. "So kind of you to join us."
He froze, hand still on the doorframe. A few students turned in their seats, hiding grins.
"Sorry, ma'am," he muttered, bowing quickly before finding a seat in the back.
"Five minutes late on the second day of the semester," she continued, tapping her tablet. "Consistency, at least, seems to be your strong suit."
A ripple of laughter spread through the hall. Ren sank into his chair, cheeks hot.
She resumed the lecture, her tone smooth but firm. Every so often, she would glance his way, as if checking to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep or disappeared. Ren tried to focus on the slides—communication structures, managerial feedback loops—but his thoughts kept drifting to the woman at the front of the room.
Professor Sato was known across the department not just for her intelligence but for her intimidating presence. Mature, confident, a perfectionist. Most students admired her from afar, whispering stories about her rumored marriage to a high-ranking company executive. To Ren, she was the embodiment of everything that frustrated him—authority, control, and that unnerving ability to make him feel small with a single look.
When the lecture finally ended, he was the first to stand, hoping to escape unnoticed. But fate, apparently, had other plans.
"Mr. Kaido," she called as he reached the door.
He turned reluctantly.
"Try to manage your time better," she said, sliding her tablet into her bag. "If you can't even arrive on time to class, I worry about your future in management."
Ren nodded. "Yes, Professor. I'll make sure—"
"Save it. I've heard the same promise last semester."
A few students near the door pretended not to listen, though their smirks gave them away. Ren muttered another apology and left as quickly as he could, the sound of her heels echoing faintly behind him.
By afternoon, the embarrassment had mostly faded—replaced by exhaustion. He had a part-time shift at a café across town, and if he didn't hurry, his senior manager would chew him out again. But just as he crossed the faculty building's courtyard, he spotted a familiar figure ahead.
Professor Sato.
She stood near the vending machines, tapping through her phone, a cup of canned coffee in one hand. Her brow furrowed slightly as if she were reading something unpleasant.
Ren considered turning around, pretending he hadn't seen her. But before he could decide, she looked up.
"You again," she said, half sighing.
Ren winced. "Just on my way to work, ma'am."
"Do you make a habit of running through the halls?"
"Sorry," he said quickly. "Didn't mean to bump into you again."
Her tone softened, though only slightly. "Apologies are fine, Mr. Kaido. But maybe try punctuality next time."
Ren hesitated, then—perhaps stupidly—tried to lighten the moment. "You really notice everything, don't you, Professor? It's… impressive."
Her eyes narrowed instantly.
"So now you're flattering me?"
"N-no, I just meant—"
"Enough," she said curtly. "Focus on your studies, not on unnecessary charm."
Ren's mouth shut tight. He nodded once and turned away, feeling a sting of frustration crawl up his neck.
He was halfway across the courtyard when a bright, mocking laugh froze him in his tracks.
"Wow, Ren. You really are fearless, huh?"
He turned to see Lauren leaning against a nearby pillar, her phone raised slightly.
Lauren Hayashi—third-year management student, queen bee of the department, and self-declared arbiter of social status. She was effortlessly beautiful, with long caramel hair and sharp, mischievous eyes that always seemed to know too much.
"What do you want, Lauren?" he asked flatly.
She showed him her phone screen, where a short video replayed—Ren bowing awkwardly to Professor Sato, apologizing, followed by his failed attempt at a compliment.
"I think this would make a great post," she said, tilting her head. "A humble student confessing to his married lecturer? Imagine the views."
Ren's blood ran cold. "You recorded that?"
"Relax," she said sweetly. "I haven't posted it… yet."
He glared. "What do you want?"
"Oh, nothing major." She tapped her chin theatrically. "Let's say… a favor or two. I'll handle your expenses, your meals, whatever you need—for one semester. In exchange, you do what I say."
Ren scoffed. "You're kidding."
Her smile didn't waver. "Not at all. Think of it as… an opportunity."
He crossed his arms. "A month. That's the best you'll get."
She frowned. "A semester."
"A month," he repeated.
For a long moment, their gazes locked—the silent tension between pride and control hanging in the air. Finally, Lauren sighed dramatically.
"Fine. A month. But don't forget who's in charge, Ren."
"Yeah," he muttered, already turning away. "Like I could."
Her voice followed him, teasing and sharp. "Oh, and before you go, do me a little errand, would you? Pick up my presentation notes from the library. I'd hate to be late tomorrow."
Ren clenched his fists. "Fine."
By the time he reached the café, the sun had dipped low, painting the streets in hues of orange and gold. He was twenty minutes late.
His manager, Mrs. Kiyomi Arai, stood behind the counter with arms crossed. She was in her mid-thirties, elegant even in her work apron, though the faint tension around her eyes hinted at someone carrying too many burdens.
"You're late again, Kaido," she said flatly.
"I'm sorry," Ren said, bowing quickly. "I got held up—"
"Save it," she cut in, brushing past him to refill the coffee machine. "You're lucky it's not rush hour yet."
Ren exhaled quietly, taking his position at the register. He knew her moods well—kind one day, irritable the next. Rumor had it she had constant fights with her husband, and when things got bad at home, she took it out on the staff. Usually, he stayed out of her way. Today, he couldn't.
Lauren's errand had delayed him further; her texts kept buzzing, reminding him to hurry.
By evening, his head throbbed. Mrs. Arai's sharp remarks blended with the hum of the espresso machine. Each passing hour stretched longer, heavier.
"Kaido," Mrs. Arai said finally, breaking his trance. "Don't forget to wipe down the counter before you leave."
"Yes, ma'am."
He did, quietly, mechanically. When the last customer left and the café lights dimmed, he slipped out into the cool night air.
By the time he reached his apartment, it was barely 8 p.m. but he felt like he'd been awake for days. He kicked off his shoes, dropped his bag on the floor, and collapsed onto the bed without changing.
His phone buzzed once on the nightstand—a faint vibration against the wood—but he ignored it. Probably another reminder from work. Or maybe Lauren.
He shut his eyes.
For a brief moment, he thought he heard something—an unfamiliar sound, like a soft digital chime. But fatigue smothered it instantly.
Within seconds, Ren Kaido was asleep, unaware that the screen of his phone had flickered once, glowing faintly with an icon that hadn't been there before.