Takumi’s Jealousy

The boardroom was officious; all polished metal and stone, white light and faces set with calculated greed. Rei stood at her designated post behind Takumi’s chair, a statue in a sage green dress cut both modestly and exquisitely, highlighting the form beneath. She was the only splash of softness in a room of sharp suits and fervent smiles.

A pack of hungry-looking older men and severe women were riveted, but not by the holographic charts projecting Eidolon’s obscene profit margins. Their eyes, slick with greed, kept flickering to Rei. They assessed her as a piece of cutting-edge tech they wouldn’t mind testing themselves. One man with a silver beard and small cruel eyes licked his lips. A woman with a face like a hatchet, eyed Rei’s posture with professional, envious approval.

Rei felt their gazes like intrusive thoughts, but she didn’t flinch, didn’t fidget. She became the perfect accessory Takumi had trained her to be. Her breathing was slow and even and her hands were clasped loosely in front of her. When Takumi gestured minutely for water, she glided forward, poured exactly two ounces into his crystal glass without a single clink, and retreated to her mark, her eyes downcast. She was a gorgeous, submissive employee, and it was driving the shareholders wild.

Takumi was masterful in presenting the project; weaving a tapestry of technological revolution and limitless enjoyment, all while using Rei’s presence as a living, breathing proof of concept. He never once acknowledged her directly, but his entire performance was choreographed around her. She was the unspoken promise.

The meeting concluded with a round of avid handshakes and commitments to massive investments. After the last shareholder was ushered out, the official atmosphere in the room thawed. Takumi turned to Rei, a triumphant smile on his face. “Well done, Rei,” he declared, his voice warm with approval.

He reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her face up to his, “You were perfect. The way they looked at you – that’s the power of suggestion. The power of being the unattainable prize.” He dropped his hold with a flourish, “Such a performance deserves a reward. We’re going for a nice dinner – Le Ciel Blanc.”

The name was like a mythical abstraction in her mind. She had first heard of Le Ciel through her mother’s fangirl gossip, then later read about it in limited edition food magazines. Yet the way Takumi mentioned it suggested that it was merely an exclusive place fit for celebrating a good day’s work. “Thank you, Takumi-sama,” she whispered, offering a grateful smile, “I’ll need a moment to freshen up.” He waved a dismissive hand, “Naturally. Wear that.” He gestured to a golden box on a side table, that had been placed seemingly out of nowhere between the end of the meeting and now, “A gift. For a successful meeting and signs of excellent progress.”

With a sinking feeling, Rei thanked him again and retreated with the package to a private lavatory off the main room. Inside it, nestled in bronze tissue paper, lay an extraordinary dress. It was a liquid green, the fabric so fine it felt like water against her skin. It had a daring plunge down the spine and a built-in electronic corset that promised to sculpt her into an impossible hourglass. The message was clear: the modest corporate doll was for the boardroom, for the restaurants, for the public eye, for him; she was to be displayed as a different kind of asset, a trophy.

Her hands moved deftly as she changed out of the sage dress and into the new. The corset tightened around her ribs, self-closing via electrified strings, restricting her breath momentarily, then synchronizing with her breathing while determining her posture. She looked at her reflection. The woman staring back was breathtaking, a vision of lavish elegance. She saw herself; and someone beyond that. When she emerged Takumi’s eyes lit up with approval.

“Magnificent”, he declared, “Now the world gets to see what I see.” Gallantly, he offered his arm. She took it, her fingers resting lightly on the fine wool of his suit. As they walked towards the elevator that would take them to the waiting car, Rei felt the eyes of the remaining Kuroda staff on her. The stares didn’t feel like hunger or envy, they felt like pity. She was the perfect accessory, following her master’s instructions to the letter, as he led her deeper into his abundant promises of power.

Le Ciel Blanc was less a restaurant and more a suspended dream. It occupied the top floor of a needle-thin spire in Mirror Plaza. Its ceiling consisted of a vast, clear dome offering a view of Mirage City’s galaxy of streets swirling below, coupled with a translucent simulation of a perfectly blue sky cast across it. An impossible mix looking somehow natural above the plush plants scattered around the room. The tables were widely spaced islands of white linen and crystal, divided by walls of flowery greenery, each island a private stage. The air hummed with the discreet murmur of power brokers and the soft strains of a live string quartet.

Rei felt like an exhibit in a museum of the obscenely wealthy. The emerald corset gown was a magnum opus of engineering, sculpting her into a vision of lethal elegance, but every breath was a conscious effort. The gown’s deep scoop back left her skin bare to the conditioned air, a constant reminder of her unveiling.

Takumi sat across the table, a picture of relaxed power. His suit was a shade of charcoal so dark it seemed to drink the light, making his oil-slick hair and sophisticated features all the more pronounced. He savored a glass of red wine, his grey eyes missing nothing. “You captivated every eye in the restaurant,” he said, his voice a low hum that carried over the music, “They wondered who you are. What you’re worth.” He took a sip, “I enjoy being the only one knowing the answer.”

Rei smiled enigmatically, “The view is… breathtakingly paradoxical,” she replied, deftly steering the conversation away from herself, gesturing slightly with her chin towards the panoramic cityscape behind the synthetic sky. Her voice was calm, a carefully modulated instrument. “Indeed,” he agreed, though his eyes remained on her, “Though views can be monitored from a distance. It’s the details up close that truly fascinate.” He set his glass down with an uncharacteristically brutal motion, “For instance, your security, Cillian, is exceptionally thorough. His reports are… comprehensive.”

Rei’s fork paused halfway to her mouth before she carefully set it down. “He mentioned,” Takumi continued, his tone conversational, almost indifferent, “some difficulty in maintaining a secure perimeter around your apartment in Sakura Avenues. It seems you’re rarely there… on the weekends.”

He leaned forward, the candlelight catching the cold glint in his eyes, “He was concerned for your safety, of course… you seem to spend a great deal of your time… time I am not currently leasing, at a certain establishment in Chochin.” Rei kept her breathing even, her hand resting on the table remained perfectly still, but beneath the table, her other hand clenched into a fist, the fine silk of her dress twisting in her grip.

“Is Karasu Komorebi working you that hard?” Takumi asked, a faux-concerned frown creasing his brow, “Two jobs? One as my associate and another as an… employee of his? That seems excessive. Thankfully, my contacts assure me you haven’t been taking shifts on the floor…”

His gaze sharpened, boring into her, “It seems your tasks for him must be of a more… private nature.” The accusation hung in the air, laced with a venomous jealousy he could no longer completely mask. Rei met his gaze, her expression one of polite attentiveness. Inside, her heart was an agitated drum against the cage of her corset.

“The Eidolon project is taxing, as you know,” she said, her voice steady, sweet, “I’m still learning the complexities of the corporate world. My time at the Den… it’s simple. Familiar. It’s a comfortable break, not really taxing…”

Rei confirmed nothing out of the ordinary, defending her time with Karasu as a reprieve she preferred. A muscle in Takumi’s jaw twitched. Her calm deflection, her subtle implication that she chose the grimy Den over his luxurious world, ignited a spark of pure fury in his gut.

“Comfort is a luxury we cannot always afford when pursuing greatness,” he stated, his voice losing its pleasant edge, becoming emotionless, “The Eidolon launch is paramount. Perhaps five days a week is insufficient and I need to renegotiate your lease with Komorebi. Acquire your full focus… permanently.”