5. Her Manager
1291 Words
Izumi steps out of the bathroom, her arm neatly bandaged.
Great, she thinks. Of all the days to wear something short-sleeved, I chose today.
She returns to her desk, sinks into her chair, and releases a long, exhausted sigh.
If it weren’t for Isshiki, she admits to herself, I would’ve tasted death for the second time.
She fidgets, then pulls out her phone.
Clips flood the screen, blurry footage of her clash with Misaki, slowed frames of a blue-and-black maid leaping across rooftops. Headlines scroll past.
WHO IS THE MYSTERIOUS MAID HEROINE?
KYOTO SAVED BY UNKNOWN MAGIC USER.
Izumi clenches her jaw and grips her injured arm. Even with Isshiki’s healing magic, the burn still lingers, deep, stubborn.
Footsteps approach.
Her manager stops beside her desk.
“Ms. Kageno,” he says, “we need to talk about your news reading this afternoon.”
Izumi exhales silently.
Guess I’m losing my job.
She looks up and forces a bright, professional smile.
“Of course, sir,” she replies, enthusiasm perfectly practiced.
Another role to play.
Izumi steps into the manager’s office.
The door clicks shut behind her.
It's locked.
She stops walking.
I know exactly what’s coming, she thinks.
She turns slowly, face calm, professional.
“Sir,” Izumi says smoothly, “you wanted to speak to me. Frankly, I’d like to apologize for leaving during my reading. I felt nauseous, nearly threw up on set.”
The manager scoffs. “Who cares about that?”
He leans back in his chair, fingers steepled.
“I believe you’re the maid-heroine.”
The air shifts.
The manager of Sakura TV isn’t just good at gathering information, he knows how to connect it.
Izumi lets out a soft laugh. Polite. Controlled.
Then it changes.
The warmth drains from her eyes.
She isn’t a journalist anymore.
She’s Izumi 890.
“Your best option,” she says quietly, “would’ve been to shut up.”
The manager smiles, slow and ugly. “I’ll keep your little secret, if you pay me in kind.”
Silence.
Izumi tilts her head, studying him the way she studies targets.
“…You should’ve asked for money,” she murmurs.
Because leverage only works when the other person is afraid to lose something.
And right now-
that person isn’t her.
The manager steps closer.
Too close.
He reaches out and hooks a finger around a loose strand of Izumi’s hair, twirling it slowly.
“Come on, Izumi,” he says with a smirk. “You’re the hottest journalist at Sakura TV. Ratings went up because of you.”
Izumi’s eyes harden.
“You’re disgusting,” she says coldly. “Way more disgusting than Ed.”
Suddenly she feels a sharp sting.
Izumi gasps, pain tearing through her left arm. She jerks back, clutching it.
A syringe protrudes from her skin.
The manager steps away, holding the empty injector between his fingers.
“I knew you possessed some kind of magic,” he says calmly. “So I wasn’t going to take you on without a weapon.”
Izumi’s breathing steadies, even as the d**g creeps through her veins.
She looks at the syringe.
Then at him.
Slowly, she smiles.
“That was your second mistake,” she says quietly.
Because anyone who thinks a needle is enough to stop Izumi 890…
Has never survived long enough to regret it.
Izumi yanks the needle from her arm and, without hesitation, forces it down his throat.
His eyes widen.
A choked sound escapes him as he stumbles back, clawing at his neck. Seconds later, his body hits the floor with a dull thud.
Silence.
Izumi stares.
Her breathing turns uneven.
“…I killed someone at work,” she whispers.
Her hands begin to shake. She looks around the office wildly.
“I, I have to erase the footage.”
She paces, gripping her injured arm, panic bleeding through her usual composure. The burn is worse now. The d**g is spreading, slow, heavy, fogging the edges of her thoughts.
“I can’t think,” she mutters. “This is bad. This is really bad.”
A portal opens behind her.
Isshiki steps out.
“Izumi, I’ve been looking for y-
He stops.
“…Whoa,” he says, staring at the body. “You killed someone.”
Izumi spins toward him, eyes wild. “Are you going to yap or help me get rid of the body?”
Isshiki raises his hands slightly. “Okay, first, have you erased the footage?”
“No!” she snaps. “I’m freaking out, my arm hurts, and the d**g is kicking in!”
Her knees buckle for just a second before she steadies herself against the desk.
Isshiki’s expression shifts, humor gone, seriousness settling in.
“Alright,” he says quietly. “Then we move fast.”
Because for the first time since meeting her, Isshiki actually saw Izumi panic.
Izumi sits at the desk, fingers flying over the keyboard as she tries to hack into the security system.
Her forehead is slick with sweat. Her arms are prickled with goosebumps.
What kind of d**g is this? she thinks, teeth gritted. I never thought to carry antidotes at work… I feel like… No. Izumi, get a hold of yourself!
Isshiki leans casually against the doorway, munching on a cheese curl. “Relax, Izumi. We have all the time in the world.”
She spins around, glare sharp despite her trembling. “Are you kidding me?!”
“I could freeze time,” he says, snapping his fingers.
Suddenly, the room stops, the birds outside stop in midair, the clock stops clicking and everything feels still.
“Now… relax,” Isshiki says calmly.
Izumi’s eyes widen. It was an aphrodisiac!
Her hands start quivering uncontrollably over the keys, and she lets out a frustrated groan.
Isshiki tilts his head. “Let me erase the footage for you. You don’t look so… well.”
She glares at him, still trying to type. “You have no idea what I feel like right now!”
Isshiki smirks. “Trust me. I have some idea.”
Isshiki moves in without another word, taking over the console while Izumi turns away, gripping the edge of the desk.
Her breathing is uneven. Controlled, but only barely.
He works fast, fingers flickering through screens and timelines.
“I erased everything,” Isshiki says. “From the moment the manager arrived at work.”
Izumi exhales shakily. “Stay away.”
Isshiki pauses. “Huh?”
“I might do something inappropriate,” she snaps, not turning around. “It’s the d**g. My body is just-
She clenches her fists, furious at herself.
Isshiki blinks once, then nods in understanding.
He opens a portal with one hand and lifts the body effortlessly with the other.
“A cold bath will do,” he says matter-of-factly.
He glances back at her. “Let’s go.”
Izumi straightens, jaw tight.
She hates losing control.
***
Izumi steps out of the shower, hair damp, body finally steady again.
She exhales. “I feel more like myself.”
Then, deadpan:
“Tonight, I have to assassinate all the employees at Sakura TV.”
Isshiki doesn’t even flinch.
“Not the solution,” he says calmly. “I already cleaned the office and gave your manager a proper burial in Deltania.”
Izumi pauses.
Isshiki continues, almost cheerfully, “No body. No evidence. Officially, he’s just… missing.”
Izumi blinks once.
“…You’re disturbingly efficient.”
Isshiki shrugs. “I try.”
She rubs her temples. “Remind me never to threaten you.”
He smiles. “Noted.”
For the first time that day, Izumi allows herself to relax.
The crisis is over.
At least this one is.
- Writer
