"So, Azuma-kun, you're here to inspect the work. What exactly are you hoping to see?" Yukino asked, straightening the papers on her desk.
"I want to visit the workshop. And while I'm at it, are there any finished products I can look at?"
"I'll go with you. The products are stored in the warehouse on the fifth floor."
"You're not too busy?" Azuma glanced at her. "I can check them out myself."
"I'll go with you," she repeated, this ti more firmly.
Azuma smiled faintly. "Alright."
Without another word, Yukino efficiently stacked the docunts, stood up, and led Azuma out of the office. They descended to the fifth floor via elevator, stopping before a nondescript tal door. Yukino swiped her access card.
The door clicked open.
Beyond it stood another security checkpoint—a reinforced door with a nuric keypad. Yukino entered a code with practiced ease.
Security was tight. As it should be—Laplace's innovations were far from ordinary.
The second door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a vast but sparsely populated warehouse. Inside, scattered across the polished concrete floor, were various smart ho appliances.
A bed.
A desk.
A wardrobe.
A rice cooker.
A dishwasher.
A washing machine.
The washing machine, Azuma noted, was clearly a by-product—probably unplanned but realized mid-developnt.
Yukino opened an app on her phone and handed it to Azuma. He scrolled through the detailed specs and designs.
To the average person, these products might seem a little futuristic. But to soone like Azuma—soone from the future—they were already a step behind what he rembered. Still, by present standards, they were revolutionary.
Smart Bed: Adaptive firmness, angle, and height—all regulated by real-ti biofeedback and sleep data.
Smart Desk: Auto-adjusting lighting, reminders for posture, integrated clocks, and an elevation chanism tailored to individual height.
Smart Wardrobe: Climate control for preserving clothes, outfit suggestions based on weather, schedule, and user preference.
Azuma's expression didn't change much, but inside, he felt satisfied. This wasn't just about flashy gadgets—it was about shifting the mindset of an entire industry.
"Looks good," he said, handing the phone back to Yukino.
"It's all thanks to the concept you proposed. The more we developed it, the more terrifyingly feasible it beca."
"Must be because we're working under the 'Laplace Demon,' right?" he said with a grin.
Yukino smiled faintly. "I'm starting to believe that title fits."
She turned her gaze back to the products, her smile fading into thoughtfulness. The earlier financial reports flashed in her mind—particularly the staggering R&D expenditure.
"About the R&D investnt..."
She hesitated.
On paper, Laplace was burning money like there was no tomorrow. Even if these products beca bestsellers, the return on investnt in Japan's sluggish furniture market was uncertain.
And yet, Azuma wasn't worried.
"I never expected profits in the short term," he said nonchalantly. "Honestly, making these things is just a way to burn through our cash."
Yukino nodded slowly, digesting his words. There was a certain clarity in his madness, and a deeper aning in his recklessness.
As they left the warehouse, Azuma suddenly added, "Oh, Yukino—don't forget to send a washing machine and dishwasher back to my place."
Yukino glanced at him sideways. Sotis she really wondered if he was doing all this just to make his own life easier.
They rode the elevator down to the underground garage. Yukino unlocked the black Cadillac with her key fob. As its lights blinked in response, she stepped ahead and opened the passenger door for Azuma.
Azuma blinked. Yukino's deanor had changed so much from their early days.
No longer stiff or formal.
Now, it felt like they were... equals.
The car pulled out of the garage and headed toward one of Laplace's small-scale factories on Tokyo's outskirts.
Even before they got out of the car, the rumble of machines and hum of voices greeted them. The factory, which used to make rice cookers, had been retooled from top to bottom. It now operated with cutting-edge efficiency—yet still employed over 400 workers.
Adding managent and logistics staff, the total exceeded 600 people.
As they approached the gate, an older security guard squinted at them.
"Hey, you two—this is a factory, not a mall. No unauthorized visitors."
Azuma approached with a calm smile. "We're with the company. Just here to check on things."
"You? You look too young to be anyone important."
"I get that a lot," Azuma said.
Yukino lightly flicked the back of his head. "Stop showing off."
She handed her business card to the guard, who adjusted his glasses and gave a surprised whistle.
"Well I'll be—it's really you two. Must be nice, huh? A factory this big... if it shuts down, a lot of us won't eat."
Azuma smiled gently. Yukino, though, looked quietly contemplative as they entered.
The factory was hot. Cramped. No sunlight. But the workers weren't listless—just tired. They moved with purpose.
"Yukino," Azuma said suddenly, "what do you think is the most common and long-lasting relationship between strangers in society?"
"Labor," she replied instantly. "Employer and employee."
Azuma grinned. "Exactly. So judging a business only by its revenue is short-sighted."
"Because we're using money to buy human relationships?"
"Bingo. You're sharper than ever today."
Being called a genius by soone like Azuma—who genuinely was one—felt strange. But Yukino didn't argue.
Back when she'd bought the factory and began hiring, she hadn't understood what Azuma ant by "spending money." But now, watching the hundreds of workers, she finally grasped it.
For soone raised in a wealthy family—especially one that profited from passive real estate—it hadn't been easy to appreciate the dignity of labor.
But now she saw it.
And she understood why Azuma was playing such a long ga.
"If this were just about investnt, people would resist. No matter how much you earned on paper, they'd push back. But if you're supporting thousands of jobs, maybe even tens of thousands... they'd hesitate."
Yukino spoke softly, watching the workers sweat under the flickering lights.
Azuma chuckled. "Yukinon-chan~ You're really starting to sound like a founder."
"And you must be planning sothing even bigger, right?" she asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
Azuma's eyes narrowed with amusent. Was that... sarcasm? From Yukino?
He had to admit—it suited her.
"Yukinon, do you know the biggest advantage of doing business in a small country like Japan?"
Yukino tilted her head. "Population size? Or resources?"
"Nope. It's the fact that it is a small country."
"...That's not helpful."
Azuma snapped his fingers. "Think: Samsung and South Korea."
Understanding hit Yukino like a lightning bolt. Her breath caught.
Samsung accounted for around 20% of South Korea's trade. It wasn't just a company—it was practically a nation-state of its own. No corporation could ever reach that level of influence in a major country.
But in a smaller one?
It could.
Yukino's skin prickled with goosebumps.
"Now you get it," Azuma said, clapping his hands and brushing away her lingering shock. "Of course, right now, it's still a dream. But dreams give us sothing to chase."
"...Let's chase it together, Azuma-kun."
By day's end, they had toured three factories. The conditions were similar across all of them—difficult, but promising.
Laplace's employnt push may have been a small splash in the vast ocean of Japan's economic woes, but it was still a ripple. And sotis, ripples could grow into waves.
As night fell, Yukino drove Azuma ho.
"By the way," she suddenly said, "the electronics division is really idle right now."
Azuma frowned. "What do you an idle? They should be planning the next project! I didn't hire them to sit around!"
Despite his irritation, Yukino smiled.
Even geniuses had their petty frustrations.
And it was monts like these that made Yukima Azuma feel... almost human.
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