Every year, this company holds two major events: one in summer, and one in winter. After our meeting with Kuga, I went fishing around on the internet and read an article about how they went in previous years. The attendees apparently number in the hundreds of thousands.
I figured that was what she was talking about. But why would she bring it up now?
“Winterfest?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, no need to play dumb, darling. Second-strings like you require a certain number of votes in the advance poll to participate at all. I believe you may have used your influence to pull some strings. It’s possible you even have Mr. Kuga on your side.”
“……”
Oh, I think. Is that how it works?
Kihouin continues to speak at length, evidently taking my silence as affirmation. “I’d rather not be forced to go along with a rich girl’s idle amusements. This is our job. We work hard to provide our fans with hopes and dreams. And I can guarantee you the others will be just as annoyed.”
I’m pretty sure what she’s really after is status, money, and fame. It might not be true of everyone, but even a kid like me knows there are plenty of people in the world whose only goal is to squeeze money out of the socially vulnerable.
Compared to them, my neighbor is amazing. He is “content” meant only for me, and I am meant only for him. Together, the two of us alone complete the cycle of production and consumption. We couldn’t be a more perfect couple. I need nothing and no one else.
“Excuse me, but are you finished?” I ask.
“See? You’re doing it again.”
“…I apologize.”
What does she want from me?
Should I suck the life from her with the demonic power Abaddon gave me? A little bit won’t kill her. I’m sure of that based on how many times I did it to my late mother. She only felt a little woozy.
Then again, I’d be causing trouble for the staff.
Just as I begin to think about it, Rolling—unable to ignore her colleague’s behavior—calls out to us. “Don’t bully her, Kihooo. You’re being meannn.”
“Bully? Why, I’m doing no such thing. I’m simply expounding on the proper mindset for a talent—from one senpai to her kouhai. These things are best done early, are they not?”
“Nooo, you were definitely bullying herrr! I’ve been watching the whole tiiime!”
Compared to the brusque Kihouin, Rolling is kind and caring. It’s a little scary, having her talk to me while she’s dressed as a little girl. But as I watch her start to huff in her gothic lolita outfit, I think that maybe she’s a good person at heart.
“Thank you, Miss Rolling,” I say. “But you don’t need to worry about me.”
“Are you suuure? Reeeally sure? If there’s ever anything bothering you, you can come straight to meee.”
“That’s very considerate of you. Thank you.”
A short while later, our break ends, and we all return to the recording booth. No particular issues arise after that, though a bunch of the items I use hit Kihouin, and I’m sure she hates me now.
Recording takes the entire day, with a break for lunch in the middle. During the break, I go to a nearby restaurant with my neighbor. That alone is enough to make the whole thing worth it. The other second-string members all invite one another to lunch, but no one asks me. They clearly want nothing to do with me.
We film the final cut just as the sun is setting. Words of thanks and appreciation echo through the studio. A staff member leads us out of the recording booth and into the break area, where I see a few people around that weren’t there during the day. One of them is familiar to me: Kuga, the company’s director. What’s more, he’s talking to my neighbor. The two of them notice me and walk over.
“Good work today, Miss Kareki,” says my neighbor.
“I really have to thank you for agreeing to do this on such short notice,” Kuga adds.
Naturally, the others turn to look at us, and the first-string members quickly speak up.
“Mr. Kugaaa! We did really good today, toooo!” “Good day at work, huh, Mr. Kuga?” “Might you have been watching us perform?” “I can’t believe you came all the way to the studio! I’m pumped!” “Do you still have work after this?”
Kihouin and Rolling are both part of the group. Everyone gathers around Kuga. It’s probably a great chance for them to promote themselves.
Kuga deftly handles all of them, then turns back to us. “Do you know about Winterfest, Miss Kareki? Our company puts it on every year.”
“Huh? Oh, um, yes, sir. Actually, Miss Kihouin told me about it…”
“I explained the details to Mr. Sasaki already. If you’re willing, you can be part of the big poll. It might be tough for you to pull through, but with your current momentum, you may just have a chance to get in.”
“The viewers vote for who they want to participate, right?”
“Yes. Mr. Sasaki here already gave me his seal of approval, so it’s up to you.”
“You’d be in front of people, right? Are you sure about that?”
Abaddon’s question is reasonable.
My neighbor immediately gives me more information. “If it turns out that you can participate, you won’t have to show your face publicly, so don’t worry about that. While you would go to the event venue, you’d essentially be doing the same thing you do online. Do I have that right, Mr. Kuga?”
“Yes—though I doubt it would pose any problem if someone like Miss Kareki were to show her face.”
Incidentally, I’m beginning to feel a lot of pressure weighing down on me. The source is the collective gaze of the other talents, especially Kihouin and Rolling. It’s not just the first-string members, either—the second-strings are paying close attention, too. I can see a few scowls. They probably don’t appreciate some random little kid being pampered by the boss.
That said, I can’t refuse simply out of consideration for them.
“I think I understand,” I tell Kuga. “And, um, yes. I’d like to take part, if possible.”
For now, Ochiba Kareki’s new goal will be to achieve victory in the Winterfest poll.