Chapter 8: Checkmate in the Elevator

The office air tasted metallic, like blood yet to be spilled. I clocked every whisper as I marched past cubicles — *gold-digger*, *homewrecker*, *gaijin* — their venomous gazes bouncing off my new armor: a knockoff Prada blazer and nuclear-grade apathy. 

Shangguan intercepted me at the coffee machine, his breath fogging the "No Romantic Relationships Between Superiors and Subordinates" poster behind us. "You're late." 

"Your fan club delayed my train." I stabbed the espresso button harder than necessary. "Fourteen women 'accidentally' spilled matcha on me this morning. Creative." 

His jaw tightened. At 8:47AM, the elevator became our coliseum. 

"Floor?" His finger hovered. 

"Basement. I'm quitting." 

The doors sealed us in citrus-scented purgatory. Shangguan's reflection in the brass panel warped as he spoke: "They're transferring Kawahara to Hokkaido." 

"Let me guess — promotion?" 

"Tax fraud investigation." His cufflink caught the light, a tiny scales-of-justice emblem winking. "Your testimony helped." 

The numbers blinked. 12...11...10... 

"I never—" 

"Security footage from Nishizawa's hotel." He produced a USB from his breast pocket. "You noticed the mistress in the CCTV stills before I did." 

9...8...7... 

The elevator stuttered. My reflection splintered in the emergency lights. 

"Power surge," Shangguan muttered, fingers flying over the control panel. His sleeve rode up to reveal fresh scratches — three parallel lines from wrist to elbow. 

Arata's parting gift. 

"Why me?" The question escaped like a trapped ghost. 

His answer came wrapped in darkness: "Because you see patterns in chaos. Because you packed Band-Aids with the merger files. Because when you smile — really smile — your left dimple disappears." 

The generators roared to life. 

**Maki's Wedding Aftermath (Group Chat)** 

*Yu:* They stuck me in a supply closet "office" 

*Erena:* At least you have windows! I'm auditing invoices in a literal broom closet 

*Brain:* Welcome to corporate Japan, love. Shall I send champagne? 

*Maki:* Save it for the revolution 

At lunch, I found the azure dress hanging in my "office" — accompanied by a note in precise kanji: *Wear it to the tribunal tomorrow.* 

The fabric slithered like liquid defiance. Across the hallway, Kawahara's replacement bowed deeply as Shangguan passed. 

"Checkmate," I whispered, snapping a photo of the dress for Maki. 

Her reply came swift: 👗🔥⚖️ 

Tokyo's game had new rules.