Burst Out And Meet Up

The demon had his sights set on the beautiful angel, his heart twisted with the desire to bridge the unholy gap between them. Now, with another demon at his side, his chances of success felt certain. He had gained an ally, and his intentions darkened with newfound confidence.

Meanwhile, Yuto and Sumire sat with Matsuura and other guests around a lavishly decorated table, filled with delicate sweets, fine wine, and succulent roasted chicken. The air buzzed with lively conversation, laughter mingling with the clinking of glasses. The noise took over all of the party room.

"Sumire! Where's Yoshishi? He didn't come with us?" Yuto asked to his wife who was slowly savoring a piece of chicken on her fork.

Sumire quickly swallowed her bite, glancing around with subtle urgency. Her eyes scanned the room in all directions, seeking any glimpse of their friend. But all she found were unfamiliar faces, guests dressed to impress, lost in their own conversations and laughter. Yoshishi was nowhere in sight.

While searching for Yoshishi, Sumire's gaze met with that of the company's Sales Manager—the woman rumored to be a slut—Kitsunawa Akujo.

Their eye contact lasted slightly longer than a fleeting moment, but Sumire could sense the disdain in Kitsunawa's eyes as she looked at her. It was as though the mere sight of Sumire deeply irritated and repulsed the woman.

What's with her? Did I do something wrong? Or is she really just... that kind of person? Wondered Sumire replaying the brief, icy glance from Akujo.

"Netao-san! Is there a problem? Who are you looking for? Your husband is just beside you, you know!" came the light, teasing voice of Takoaki Ami—the hostess of the party, with a smile that held just a hint of mischief.

Sumire swiftly turned her head toward Ami, her irritation palpable. "Yeah, I know my husband is beside me. I'm looking for Aisuke-san." The words carried an undercurrent of tension, as if she were navigating an unspoken competition between them—typical women things.

"He isn't here?" Matsuura asked.

Yuto immediately chimed in, "He was with us just a few minutes ago, but it seems he's suddenly vanished. He probably wandered off to the washroom or is slacking off somewhere—after all, he doesn't have any friends besides me." His tone was light, but there was a hint of concern in his voice as he scanned the crowd for any sign of Yoshishi.

As Yuto finished speaking, Sumire told to herself cause she didn't have the courage to say it infront of strangers she just met. Besides us! I mean, I'm also a friend of Aisuke-san. She thought.

Takoaki Matsuura feigned sympathy as he exclaimed, "That guy is a loner! He lives alone and rarely engages with anyone else in the office. Honestly, I don't quite understand him myself."

As their conversation continued to revolve around the office's loner, two men approached the table. One of them appeared visibly anxious, fidgeting with his hands as he struggled to mask his unease. In contrast, the other exuded an air of calm confidence and coldness.

"Oh! There you are, Yoshishi and…" Yuto's gaze shifted to the man standing next to Yoshishi, and he paused for a moment.

"Nakamura-san!" he exclaimed, his tone laced with surprise. "It's quite unexpected to see you here!"

Nakamura's expression shifted to one of disappointment, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why…" he began, pausing as he locked eyes with Yuto, "…is it surprising?"

"I mean, Nakamura and Yoshishi together at the party! You two never even glance at each other during work," Yuto replied, trying to lighten the mood.

"Is it something bad that we're together?" Nakamura shot back, his voice laced with a sharp edge that hung in the air.

"No! No! In fact, I'm happy for Yoshishi that he's blending in with everyone," said Yuto.

As the group made space for them, a waiter brought over additional chairs. Yoshishi quietly took a seat beside Sumire, his heart pounding in his chest as if it were trying to escape. It felt as though it might burst through his ribs and splatter onto the table, accompanied by the kind of dramatic bloodshed one would expect in a horror film.

"Is he the one we were talking about?" Ami exclaimed, pointing at Yoshishi, though her husband shot her a look that suggested she should have refrained from doing so.

"You were talking about him? I can imagine the gossip swirling around Yoshishi-kun! Is it backbiting or something? That's terrible; I didn't expect that from you, Yuto-san, and especially not from you, Ms. Netao," Nakamura interjected with sarcasm.

"Hold on! Hold on! Who said we were backbiting about Yoshishi, and when did you start calling him by his given name?" Yuto defended.

Yoshishi remained silent, anxiety coursing through him. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering between the urge to confess and the instinct to keep his secrets buried.

"Could you care to explain what you were talking about him then?" Nakamura pressed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. As he spoke, his leg brushed against Yoshishi's, a subtle nudge that signaled, Let's start the plan! It's time.