CYN

In the basement of the old mixed-use building where Camellia had once lived, there was a combat sports gym.

C was lying on a bench, doing bench presses.

Naturally, the gym manager chose the exact moment when C couldn’t move to come over and start talking at C.

“Hey, C, the stairwell lights have been really dim since yesterday.”

“And the waste collection guys said they’re coming back now for the stuff they forgot to pick up.”

“Oh, and can I put up some gym posters in the common area?”

“There might be something wrong with the light fixture—”

C was about to answer when Y walked in.

Y was one of the gym’s fighters and had recently begun making a name for himself.

The manager immediately abandoned C and rushed over to Y.

C watched from the bench.

“What the hell? That’s the fighter you’re promoting next? So he’s got my old spot now?”

C clicked her tongue.

“I had way more star power.”

A trainer wandered over.

“Hey, C. Looking good, as usual.”

He delivered the same routine greeting he always did, then immediately moved on to another member.

“Nova, I’ve been seeing you here every day lately. Nice.”

“I’ve had more time recently. Thought I’d work on some of my weaknesses.”

Still flat on her back, C observed the people around her.

Y was telling the manager that he couldn’t handle going to competition venues anymore. Every time he showed up, stalkers appeared. It was frightening.

The manager was at a loss.

“With a face like yours, of course you attract that kind of attention. But you’ve got offers from major events now. We can’t just turn them down.”

C sat up, walked past them, and went outside to inspect the lighting.

A group of women was hanging around in front of the gym, waiting for Y to come out.

C stared at them.

“Individually, they just look like regular, slightly unfashionable people. Put them together and they start giving off some kind of weird aura.”

“And every single one of them has crazy eyes. That’s terrifying.”

C adjusted the light fixture, handed the uncollected trash over to the contractor, then went back into the gym to get her things.

Y was trapped.

A few of his friends—the guys in black gym tracksuits—were huddled in a corner, discussing whether they should all leave together or wait a little longer.

C walked over.

“Must be rough having that pack of demons haunting you. I live upstairs in this building. You can wait up there.”

They had nowhere else to go. Hanging around the gym chatting in a group for hours would have been bad etiquette.

“Seriously? We can?”

One of them stared at C.

“Wait. You live upstairs?”

“Yeah. Come on, all of you. Take the elevator and they won’t see you from outside.”

The entire group followed C.

Once inside C’s apartment, they went straight to the window and checked the street below.

“Sorry for barging in.”

“Thanks for having us.”

“They’re still there.”

“Should we snipe them from up here?”

“Nobody’s looking up. Even if you shot them, they’d probably keep staring at the entrance.”

“True.”

C looked at Y and the others.

“You guys have anywhere you need to be after this?”

“Nah. Usually we just go to the pub after training and sit around talking about whether there’s anything interesting to do.”

Another one joined in.

“I did judo all the way through university. Then I got a job and suddenly every day became insanely boring. I still can’t handle the difference. Coming here and going out drinking with people from the gym is basically the only thing I look forward to.”

“Same. I still can’t believe life is actually this boring.”

C was moved.

“I know! I completely understand!”

C pulled out three large-denomination bills and handed them over.

“Go buy us some food and drinks. Pay cash.”

The black-tracksuit guys happily headed out.

As they left, one whispered to another.

“I always thought C was kind of scary. You know, old-school fighter, dangerous aura, hard to approach.”

“Yeah.” “Turns out C’s actually pretty cool.”

Back in the apartment, C was already making plans. “Did I just find my staff? I could restart that project.”

On their way back from the store, the black-tracksuit guys were approached by a woman who had been downstairs, watching the situation outside with concern.

“We’ve all taken shelter for now, so we’re okay.”

“Come up to the building office with us.”

And that was how the guys returned from their shopping trip with Nova.

“This lady was downstairs worrying about us, so we brought her up.”

C looked Nova over.

“Oh. Strong-looking woman.”

Nova turned to Y.

“The manager told me you were having trouble. Why don’t you put on my clothes and slip out? I’ll wear one of the black tracksuits home.”

Y hesitated.

“What? No, I couldn’t ask you to do that…”

“It’s fine. I’m only doing it because I want to.”

Nova smiled.

“Boredom is the enemy.”

By then, C and the others had settled into a lazy drinking session.

Something suddenly occurred to her.

“A disguise using clothes…”

C stopped.

“Oh. Wait. I’ve got Camellia’s clothes!”

C turned to Y.

“Hey. Think you can wear these?”

C went into the next room and dragged out a clothing rack filled with the office clothes she’d worn back when C was Camellia.

They were all basic corporate pieces. Nothing unusual, although the cuts were clearly from a few years ago rather than current fashion.

“But are you sure we can just use her clothes?”

“Camellia isn’t coming back. She doesn’t need them anymore, so do whatever you want with them. Some of this stuff was barely worn, and it’s all been dry-cleaned.”

“……”

Nobody asked another question.

Instead, each of them privately constructed roughly the same story:

C had once lived with a woman named Camellia.

She’d walked out on C several years ago. Apparently, C still had all her clothes.

“This would look good on Y.”

“No. Use this one.”

C pulled out another outfit.

“If you want to disappear into a crowd, don’t wear colors that look good on you. Pick something that’s just slightly wrong.”

Y started changing.

“You know, I expected women’s clothes to be tight on me.”

He looked down at himself.

“But these fit fine. Actually, the waist is huge. Camellia must’ve been a pretty big woman.”

“Can’t we just pin it?”

C froze.

The waist is huge?

You skinny little bastard. How dare you.

“…Wait. I can fix that by hand in five minutes.”

“That’s our professional building manager.”

A little later—

Three men in black tracksuits casually walked out of the building together.

One was conspicuously carrying Y’s gym bag.

Another was wearing Y’s cap.

From a distance…

…they looked exactly like the group everyone outside had been waiting for.

One of the women whispered,

“There! Finally! They’re coming out.”

“Let’s follow them.”

The others slowly moved after the three men.

Five minutes later, the back door opened.

Y stepped outside wearing Camellia’s old office clothes.

A pink-beige jacket.

A simple skirt.

His hair tied back.

He walked beside Nova.

Together, they looked like two coworkers heading home after working late.

Nobody paid them any attention.

They reached the station without incident and decided to simply go home from there.

Some time later, after losing the group that had followed them, the black-tracksuit guys returned to the manager’s room and resumed drinking.

“Looks like it worked.”

“Those freaks took a ton of pictures of me.”

“This is actually kind of fun.”

“Wait.”

One of them suddenly sat up.

“Couldn’t Y just enter competition venues like this?”

Everyone looked at him.

“That’s it!”

C decided it was time to get to the real point.

“Hey. If you guys are bored, want to run an event with me?”

They looked over.

“There’s this thing we can do once a month, late at night. Get a bunch of rich people together, gambling is the main attraction. I could run it again if I had enough staff.”

C grinned.

“There’s money in it.”

One of the black-tracksuit guys leaned forward.

“You mean we’d get paid?”

“Of course. If we make money, we split it. Your boring days are over.”

“I might try it once.”

“Good. Try it once. If it’s fun, do it again.”

C smiled.

“Boredom is the enemy.”

One of the guys looked down at his clothes.

“Let’s use the gym tracksuit as the event staff uniform.”

“Can we invite other people if we know someone who’d be into this? I’ve got some guys from university who’d absolutely love it.”

“Of course. The more staff, the better.”

C paused.

“But no women who are even remotely cute. I’m not letting potential competition in here.”

The men in black tracksuits exchanged glances.

Competition for what?

C thought about it.

“Fine. Strong women are okay. If she can protect me, she can stay.”