Chapter 42 Eighteen Days of Part-Time Work
I went to see Osamu Dazai.
Because of the controllability of the disguise, I could easily meet with him without being discovered by others, so I went to find Dazai Osamu.
"A Port Mafia party? Is that true?" Dazai Osamu sat across from me, slowly cutting the cake, and casually glanced up at me. "Are you going too?"
Me: "...Yes."
Not only do I have to participate, I might have to participate with two identities at the same time.
He stopped what he was doing and gave me a thorough once-over: "I remember that Mr. Sen doesn't invite ordinary people. It seems you might have some other special identity."
“Not particularly special.” I rubbed my temples and laid it off directly. “Do you know Manhasset?”
"Hmm, I remember." Dazai Osamu thought for a moment, "Which company did Francis Fitzgerald short?"
I:"……?"
Seeing my puzzled look, he asked in surprise, "Don't you know how your boss acquired this company?"
I shrugged: "I'm a little unclear about this part. When I joined Manhasset, Mr. Francis was the head of the department."
I always thought that this company was started by Mr. Francis himself, so I didn't understand why a group of people from North America would come to Yokohama to start a company.
"Never mind, that's not important." Dazai Osamu waved his hand and asked me, "So what's your role inside? Let me think... I remember someone mentioning that their company hired a local financial advisor. Could it be you?"
“That really is me, Mr. Dazai,” I said.
He had a piece of cake forked and was about to put it in his mouth, but it stopped in mid-air. He glanced at me and laughed, "Huo, you really are multi-talented."
I was on the verge of tears: "Mr. Dazai, I don't want to be so multi-talented."
"Alright, alright." Dazai Osamu waved his hand. "We've gone too far off-topic. So why did you bring up the Port Mafia party? Is it related to Fitzgerald?"
“No, not at all.” I shook my head and continued, “Mr. Francis is a professional capitalist who knows best how to reasonably exploit his employees. If there were any important matters to be discussed at the party, I wouldn’t be the representative he sent. So I’m just representing Manhasset to make a brief appearance.”
Dazai Osamu nodded earnestly: "I think so too. The Port Mafia and them have always kept to themselves."
Because there really isn't much to make a mistake about.
In any case, I don't see any conflict of interest between Mr. Francis's expectations and his enthusiasm for flea markets and the Port Mafia.
The only possible point of conflict is that Mr. Francis plans to expand the building in the future. I wonder if it will cause their dissatisfaction if the expansion is more luxurious than the Port Mafia Building.
But I don't have time to think about things that far ahead.
"Mr. Dazai, all I can tell you is that someone will be breaking into the Port Mafia building tomorrow to steal your secret documents—supposedly a document recording the abilities of all the Port Mafia's ability users. To be honest, I really want to ask, does your Port Mafia really have such a thing?"
"Probably," Dazai Osamu replied casually.
"..."
"But I'm curious, or, if I'm not mistaken, a lot of the information you've received is because of so-called game missions. So, from your mission's perspective, wouldn't it be better to successfully steal the files?"
"Yes, Mr. Dazai."
He laughed and said, "Is it alright to tell me like this?"
“But this is what I promised you, Mr. Dazai,” I said. “When I asked you to find my original body, I promised you that if anything dangerous involved the Port Mafia, I would help.”
"or."
I heard Dazai Osamu softly call my name, then he put down his fork, which made a crisp sound as it hit the disk.
He stood up and tapped the table lightly as he was about to pass by me.
"Thank you for the treat. But I still want to say that it's okay for people to be a little selfish sometimes."
****
The next day was the day of the Port Mafia party, but Fyodor didn't seem anxious at all.
He wasn't in a hurry, so I didn't ask any more questions.
The main reason was that I recalled Fyodor's gaze from a couple of days ago—it was a very mysterious gaze, he would just stare straight at you but your body would instinctively feel that it was dangerous—so even if I had been curious before, I wouldn't want to ask any more questions.
At noon, I was playing games on the sofa, and Fyodor was typing on the keyboard in his chair. I glanced at him briefly and noticed that he was... chatting?
That's quite amazing.
Meanwhile, my other alias was at Manhasset. As soon as Montgomery saw me, he made a sarcastic remark: "Damn it, you've come to the company two days in a row."
I directly dragged Poe and Mark into the discussion and put them down: "Montgomery, although I don't come to the company often, my attendance rate is still higher than Poe and Mark's, right?"
She turned her head, gave a cold snort, ignored me, and walked away.
It was normal that Mr. Francis was not there, but it was surprising that John was not there either. And since John was not there, Lovecraft was naturally not there either.
I stayed in the office, casually browsing online, and then logged onto the Yokohama Forum.
The first post I saw was titled "Following 'Fireflies,' another new work by renowned author Sakunosuke Oda, 'The Paradox of Youth,' is currently being serialized!!!"
I was quite surprised. It hasn't been that long since I stopped being an editor, and I hadn't paid any attention to Oda Sakunosuke during that time. I never expected that he would finish another work and become so famous.
...Does raising children really inspire a person's desire to work?
I didn't read that post carefully. I logged onto the Yokohama forum mainly to recruit staff for Lupin Bar.
The reason I went to work at Lupin Bar was because the bar was short-staffed. After I arrived, the bar didn't hire many people—mainly because I was really useful. Some of the other staff were part-time, needed to adjust their schedules, and occasionally had to take leave.
Only I am truly available whenever needed, never taking leave, though I am sometimes late.
So I reasonably suspect that if the bar doesn't hire any new staff, I'll probably have to keep working there forever. How long will that take?
So I addressed the problem at its root by hiring a bar employee to replace me, which naturally freed me from this predicament.
I don't know if the system upgrade also upgraded my IQ, but I feel like I have completely mastered the relationship between myself and my alternate account, so much so that I feel more free now than before.
If it really is an RPG, as Dazai Osamu and I said, then I've probably found a walkthrough.
In the evening, Montgomery knocked on my office door, pushed the door open, and delivered a suit.
She glanced at me and said, "Mr. Francis gave it to you."
I was busy studying my job posting and didn't even look up: "I know, just leave it there, Montgomery."
Then I heard Montgomery close the door.
As darkness fell, Fyodor finally brought up the Port Mafia party with me.
He handed me a black tuxedo, which I took without thinking. I heard him say, "Or, at the party, we'll be playing..."
I was unfolding the dress to take a look when I realized something was wrong halfway through—it was clearly a women's dress.
I looked up sharply at Fyodor, and to my shock and confusion, his expression remained perfectly calm as he slowly continued, "A couple."
I:"????"
Holy crap? Holy crap!!
I suspect Fyodor is playing me.
However, he very sincerely said no, that he could only obtain these two sets of identities.
I continued, still unconvinced, "Why should I dress up as a woman? You're pretty and fair-skinned, you'd be perfect for it."
“You’re pretty too, and you’re fair-skinned.” Fyodor returned my words verbatim, adding, “And you’re short, or rather, you’re obviously more suited to pretending to be a girl.”
Almost instinctively, I wanted to argue that I wasn't short, but I quickly realized that I wasn't using my original body, and then I silently looked up at Fyodor.
"..." It seems that this body is indeed a bit small.
I used to think Fyodor was physically weak, and I didn't know if it was because his identity was meant to fit the image of a prisoner. But now, looking back at myself, I realize that I actually look weaker than him.
I thought about it for a long time, and finally I had to hypnotize myself into thinking that it was okay to dress as a woman, since no one knew me anyway. After that, I used up the alternate account and ran away, pretending it never happened.
“Let’s get this straight, Fyodor,” I told him before I compromised, “this is a one-time thing. If something like this happens again, it’ll be your turn.”
He shook his head: "There won't be a next time, or..."
When it was completely dark, Fyodor and I arrived at the Mafia building in the port by car. When we got out of the car, I was afraid that I might accidentally twist my ankle and fall down.
Meanwhile, I could see my other identity already standing at the party on the high-rise building.
"Or." Dazai Osamu immediately found me among a group of idle people. Because he had my official recognition, he didn't even ask a question when he called my name.
“Dazai-san.” I nodded.
The people around me didn't really recognize me, but seeing that the Port Mafia executives seemed quite friendly with me, they secretly sized me up.
"what's on your mind?"
I snapped out of my reverie and saw Dazai Osamu wave his hand in front of my face. He shook his head and said, "...It's nothing, I was just daydreaming."
He leaned closer to look at me, and I saw his large, iris-colored eyes, which faintly reflected my figure and the lights behind me. But after two seconds, he stepped back and said, "Okay."
Dazai Osamu may have known that what I said was a half-truth, but he probably couldn't have guessed that at the same time, my other identity was walking arm in arm with Fyodor.
What I was just thinking was that it feels really awkward to walk in women's clothes.
As Fyodor and I were about to enter the party, I almost instinctively looked towards the entrance from the party hall.
Almost exactly, Fyodor appeared there, wearing a white suit and having taken off his beloved white beanie, with the light from the magnificent chandelier falling on him.
Standing next to him was me; in that instant, our two identities met.
Then I discovered—
I actually look pretty good.
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