Tokyo. July. Laplace Corporation Headquarters.
July at Laplace Corporation was not rely sweltering—it was infernal, in temperature and in pressure. The bustling heart of the company throbbed with relentless tension as deadlines lood and expectations soared.
Laplace Bunko, the company's publishing arm, had entered a critical period of promotion. The second volu of the light novel series Youth was being pushed with aggressive marketing. Simultaneously, the ani adaptation was now greenlit for a feature film release. Ordinarily, such a venture would take a year or two from pre-production to premiere. But Laplace demanded the impossible: one month.
Criticism flooded in. Online forums buzzed with doubts. The hot search bar on social dia flashed with controversy more than once. Whispers turned to outcry.
"Should we pay to have the trending tags removed?" the head of the business departnt had asked Yukinoshita Yukino repeatedly.
But she had always answered the sa way, her expression unchanging.
"No need."
She wasn't being stubborn—just principled. Or maybe naïve.
Beyond books and ani, Laplace Corporation's real battlefield was far more insidious. Patents. Trademarks. Legal fraworks. Corporate backroom politics. The side of business the public never sees.
And on this front, Laplace was struggling.
"Haizz..." Yukino let out a long, controlled sigh, barely louder than the rustle of paper on her desk.
Yukima Azuma entered the office at that exact mont, a small souvenir box in his hand.
"Bad day?" he asked, placing the Hokkaido gift delicately on her desk.
Yukino hugged the box like a lifeline, then slumped forward, resting her head atop it like a disappointed child who tried her best, only to be told her best wasn't enough.
"...Am I really fit for this position?"
The question wasn't really directed at Azuma, yet she spoke aloud, as if voicing it could shake the weight off her chest.
Her tone carried defeat—and self-doubt. The kind that no executive training could shield you from.
Azuma didn't speak imdiately. He understood what she was really saying.
In a society like Japan's—where connections often mattered more than competence—Laplace was swimming against the current. Rejected registrations, delayed processes, bureaucratic sabotage... It wasn't personal. It was systemic.
Yukino, raised on righteousness and justice, hated this underhanded world. But now she had tasted how cruel "reality" could be. She'd fought the system on principle, and it nearly broke her. After graduation, she'd nearly drowned in Tokyo's cost of living. But she hadn't wavered... until now.
For the first ti, Yukino was beginning to question if being right was enough.
Would idealism kill the very company she wanted to protect?
Azuma, watching her inner conflict unfold across her features, reached over and gently poked her cheek.
Her snowy skin imdiately flushed a soft pink, a silent betrayal of her composure.
She didn't react at first—so he poked again. This ti, a little firr.
"President... I'm being serious here!" she huffed, brushing his hand away, like a concubine chastising an emperor for being too playful during state matters.
But Azuma's expression remained serious. "Don't worry. I've already handled it. Yukino, you haven't done anything wrong. Don't doubt yourself."
She blinked.
"...What did you do?" she asked, peering at him cautiously. If he had used money or influence to grease the wheels, he wouldn't be telling her so openly.
But the fact that he was speaking up now... ant sothing else.
"Hmm..." Azuma leaned back, feigning mystery. "Maybe I sold a little... handso?"
Yukino instantly jumped up from her chair. Alard.
"What—who did you sell it to?!"
She walked around the desk, pulling him close, examining him as if searching for signs of scandal. She flipped up his collar, checked the sides of his neck, and looked like she might unbutton his shirt at any mont.
"Yukino!" Azuma quickly caught her wrist. "I'm joking! Nothing happened."
Yukino froze mid-inspection.
Realizing she'd overreacted, she pulled back, eyes flickering with embarrassnt. Still, she gave him a small glare for his terrible sense of humor.
"In reality," Azuma said, sobering up, "I reached out to the mother of a friend. She's powerful, but rarely invests in ventures. I suggested a collaboration between Laplace and her business empire—mutually beneficial, as both investor and investee."
Yukino understood imdiately.
And she also knew who he ant.
It was a clever move—clean, legal, and not reliant on backdoor dealings. But still, she felt a pang of inadequacy. Once again, Azuma had done what she couldn't.
"I see... I'll handle the rest," she said softly.
Her tone was tinged with lancholy.
There were things she could never bring herself to do. But Azuma had already walked into those gray areas, protecting the company while keeping her hands clean.
That's why—
"Yukino, I can't be without you."
Those words rang in her ears again.
She didn't want to disappoint him—because he chose her, not the position.
Just as she turned back to her overwhelming stack of docunts, Azuma's hand reached out and pinched her cheek again.
"You've lost weight."
"...I haven't."
"You're not eating properly. Co ho early tonight. I'll make soup."
Yukino sighed. Then leaned her face into his hand for a mont.
He always had a way of coaxing her like this.
Maybe he was using so "handso man strategy" to keep her motivated.
If so... just marry her already.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Wait—Azuma wasn't even of legal marriage age yet.
Realizing what she was thinking, Yukino turned red like a tomato. Was she a middle-aged cow falling for tender grass?
No. Whatever this was—even if it's bait, she thought—it was bait she would gladly take.
Because it ca from him.
About thirty minutes later, Azuma finally left her office.
Once the door clicked shut, Yukino stood and walked to the restroom to wash her face.
Upon returning, she glanced at the souvenir box still sitting on her desk.
Curious, she opened it.
Inside was a plush penguin doll.
It was round and slightly smug-looking. Sothing about its expression reminded her exactly of Azuma.
No ntion of Hokkaido on it. No regional flair. But—
Yukino smiled, placing it on the corner of her desk where she could easily reach and poke it.
Just as she finished adjusting it, a knock ca at the door.
"Director Yukinoshita, there's been a change in the senior staff roster. I brought the updated list."
The voice was sweet and familiar.
"Umu. Co in," Yukino said, shifting instantly back to her cold, elegant executive mode.
Isshiki Iroha walked in, dressed smartly as always, her smile polished but curious. She handed over the list—but her eyes caught sothing odd.
The penguin plush.
A very un-Yukinoshita addition to the austere office.
Iroha blinked.
She had once seen this woman as an unapproachable goddess. But now?
Now she saw sothing else.
Was this—love?
Had soone lted the icy heart of this flawless woman?
Iroha's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
She would find out. Eventually.
Later that day, at the Sawamura Residence...
Yukima Azuma stood outside the grand entrance of the Sawamura estate.
He rang the bell.
The door opened almost imdiately.
"Oh! Yukima-kun! Co in, co in!"
Sayuri Sawamura greeted him warmly, her voice bright and welcoming.
"Sayuri... Oba-san," he said respectfully.
"Ehh? Why '-san'? That's so formal! Just call Sayuri!"
Azuma chuckled. "Then, please call Azuma."
Sayuri grinned even wider—almost too wide.
Azuma sighed inwardly.
She definitely knew.
Eriri had spilled everything.
And now, a different kind of battle was about to begin.
One fought not with contracts or trademarks—but with awkward smiles, teasing mothers, and the terrifying pressure of being caught between a mother and her daughter... after you'd "eaten" the daughter.
He braced himself.
Lunch with the Sawamura family was going to be anything but simple.
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