Chapter 4 - Admin Access

Carl and I joined the chat group with a fake account, so we had access to what people were commenting on in the chat after I sent them a file.

[QuinnSpirational: Eighteen? Hmm.

Fujimya.Takahashi: He's too young to be in this business, but it makes sense that he's doing it to pay for college.

WallyWonka: He used to be a hitter... should that information help us pick him?

KateRina9: He doesn't look very tall.]

These were the only four messages in the first five minutes, and Carl looked like he wanted to wring my neck. 

"I told you I should have read the description first. Why did you put that he was a hitter and not a soccer player or something?" Carl asked.

"I wouldn't lie just to make money."

Carl put a hand to his forehead. "Nishida, you need to understand that most of these women have to want to have your child. If none of them do, there won't be any money."

"I know that. It's just that I wouldn't feel right saying I was something I never was. Besides, I'm not that bad..." I raised my right arm and flexed my biceps, showing that there was some considerable bulk.

"Yes, you're fine. So..."

Ding!

A new message arrived, cutting Carl off. When we looked at the phone screen, what we saw gave me hope.

[Misaki_Murata: He looks... cute.]

After that message, I was very excited about the possibility. However, it was still just a possibility.

That same day, I had to work the early shift at a karaoke bar near my apartment. And that was another night filled with strange sounds coming from the karaoke rooms.

The place had small, stuffy rooms, with walls too thin to muffle the sounds of pleasure — after all, people who went to karaoke at dawn never sang.

The karaoke was almost in the center of town, in a building that seemed to get older every day, with dim lighting and worn-out furniture. The laughter and shouts of older men, who were clearly only there to escape something bigger and heavier in their lives, often drowned out the voices.

And the girls... pretty girls, often younger than me, yet somehow looking at ease in such a decadent place. It was the situation that made me wonder how anyone could get lost there.)

When the rooms were vacated, it was my job, as the newest hire, to clean up. And it wasn't just the mess that bothered me. It was the smell. The smell of cigarettes and cheap perfume that lingered in the air and clung to my clothes and hair.

I knew the job wasn't easy, but I couldn't question it too much either. I was there for one reason: money. Always about the damn money. 

By the end of my shift, I was exhausted from trying to ignore my senses.

Five days passed like that, in a routine that seemed to be slowly swallowing me up.

During these days, Carl continued to message me from time to time, asking if I had received any other messages in the chat.

As always, the answer was no. No invitations, no responses that made me feel things were moving forward. 

The user Misaki_Murata had shown a single sign of interest, but nothing more.

The sixth night was just as uneventful. After my shift, I got home, took a shower, and collapsed onto my bed. Lying there, listening to the city sounds and the rain pattering against the window, I let exhaustion take over.

'Maybe I need to tell my dad that I never actually saved money for college. Would he forgive me...?' That was my last thought before falling asleep.

Then, in the middle of the night, the sound of a notification on my phone woke me up. It was a low sound, but since I was always expecting it, it seemed loud.

I turned over in bed, a little disoriented, and reached for my phone. The screen's glow lit up my face, and I could hardly believe my eyes.

[Carl: Any news? Have you spoken to anyone in the chat yet?]

I sighed, threw my head back, and sank into the pillow. I took a deep breath and started typing my reply.

[Me: Nothing yet.]

I knew Carl wouldn't understand the situation. He just wanted to see the results of his "genius" plan, and no matter how honest I tried to be, he would never understand the difficulties I was facing.

I decided it wasn't worth wasting any more time on that conversation, so I put my phone down beside me. It didn't take long for insomnia to creep in again. I kept tossing and turning, listening to the sound of the rain and the distant echoes of karaoke. But something was about to change. I just didn't know it yet.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated again. I hesitated to pick it up, thinking it was just Carl saying something dumb to cheer me up. However, since I was already awake, after about five minutes, I turned to check.

I was surprised to see a private chat message from an unknown user.

[Ryo_Nakano72: Good morning, Nishida. I hope this isn't a bad time. My name is Ryo, and I got your contact from that group. Are you still available for this service?]

I froze, my fingers trembling as I read the words. Something inside me exploded in a mixture of excitement and fear. This was the opportunity—the sign I had been waiting for—no matter how much the rest of the world was falling apart around me. I had to seize it.

'But... what should I say?' I thought for a second, but the answer was obvious.

[Me: Hi, Ryo. Nice to meet you.] 

I opted for a simple answer. I got out of bed and paced back and forth in my room, waiting for Ryo to reply.

[Ryo_Nakano72: Great to read this. My husband and I were thrilled when we found your file. Please meet us at Café Cioccolato Fondente near Okachimachi Station tomorrow at nine in the morning.]