"Um, Lord Chuuya, if there's nothing else, I'll... take my leave." Qingque spoke tentatively, her voice heavy with the implication that it was officially clock-out time.
"Yeah, nothing else... wait!"
"Is there something more, Lord Chuuya?" Qingque turned back reluctantly, fighting to keep her face neutral and hide her annoyance.
'Dammit. At this rate, he's going to lose his spot as my Number One Best Boss.'
"Thanks for exposing Dazai earlier, but I'm a bit worried. Knowing that guy, he might have fixed his eyes on you because of it." Though loath to admit it, Chuuya and Dazai shared an invisible synchronization; they knew each other far too well. Chuuya had sensed a strange, inexplicable focus in Dazai's gaze toward Qingque.
This made Chuuya hesitate. After all, he fully trusted Dazai's brain—mostly because it was filled with nothing but schemes.
"Wh-What should I do then, Lord Chuuya?" Qingque feigned terror.
"You only caught his attention because of me. How about this: I'll give you one—no, two weeks off. Stay away from the Port Mafia for a while. Dazai has the attention span of a gnat; he'll lose interest soon enough." Chuuya decided to play it safe.
What?!
Qingque couldn't care less about Chuuya's complex internal conflict. She only heard the sound of her own suppressed excitement as she asked the most vital question: "Lord Chuuya, what about my salary? I... I'm a bit short on cash."
"Full attendance pay. I'll even throw in a bonus," Chuuya said with a generous wave of his hand.
Qingque practically leaped into the air, instinctively grabbing Chuuya's arm. "Thank you, Lord Chuuya! Thank you so much! You're truly a great person!"
Realizing her lapse in etiquette, she quickly let go. "I'm sorry, Lord Chuuya. I was just... so moved. You're just too good to your subordinates. I've never seen anyone so generous, so full of humanitarian care, so understanding of a subordinate's hardships..."
Qingque barely managed to swallow the word "happy." Even for her, telling a boss she was overjoyed to not work for him was a bit much.
Caught off guard, Chuuya pulled his hat down to hide his reddening ears before cutting off her long-winded praise. It was too embarrassing!
"Enough, enough," Chuuya interrupted. "Khem. It's past working hours anyway. Go home and rest."
"Understood!" When it came to leaving work, Qingque was a fountain of energy. She vanished toward the door at a speed Chuuya couldn't even track, only to poke her head back in. "I'm off then. Bye-bye, Lord Chuuya! You should get off early too!"
"Go, just go." Chuuya waved her off. 'The girl can't even hide her smile, so why bother acting?'
Then, looking at the documents on his desk, he rubbed his temples. "Well... at least I don't have to deal with the work Dazai snuck in. Better get to it."
The lights in the Executive Candidate's office stayed on for half the night.
However, none of this concerned Qingque, who was now on legal leave. She hummed as she walked toward Oda's place, feeling genuinely sentimental.
'Lord Chuuya is such a saint!'
Back at the Oda residence, the poor bottom-tier grunt hadn't returned from work yet. Qingque took on the responsibility of a "big sister" for a while, looking after the five energetic children until Sakunosuke Oda finally walked through the door.
"Oda, I have wonderful news!" Qingque excitedly recounted the day's events. "...In short, I'm on vacation!"
Oda's usually placid eyes flickered with a rare spark. "That's good," he said sincerely.
He shared her sentiment: "Lord Chuuya is indeed a good person." To pay a subordinate out of his own pocket just to let them take a break—even the emotionally stable Oda felt a flicker of envy.
"Right? I'd work for him in my next life! Sadly, he probably won't outlive me, but a few decades of leisure isn't bad." Qingque felt content. To a Xianzhou native, a few decades was like a year or two for a normal human.
'It's a perfectly normal adjustment period!'
Oda thought for a moment before asking, "Can the Port Mafia survive for decades?"
Qingque paused. "True. Then I guess I have to hope the Port Mafia thrives for a long time. Wait, it would be best if Lord Chuuya becomes the Boss. Then I'll pray for the Mafia's expansion every day. As for the current Boss... he looks like the type who really grinds his employees down."
"Lord Chuuya is so young and pulls all-nighters every day. How is he supposed to grow? The Boss is truly a criminal." Qingque began to diss her employer.
Oda tried to recall and gave an honest evaluation: "Lord Chuuya does stay up late often, and he travels for work frequently."
"See? See!" Qingque shook her head, crossing her arms. "Lord Chuuya is too honest. He has no life of his own."
"That sounds quite terrible," Oda replied, still lacking the self-awareness to realize he was gossiping about a superior with a friend.
"It is terrible. I bet Lord Chuuya has plenty of hobbies, but he rarely has time to enjoy them. He's just too responsible. Just like the Master Diviner—their sense of duty is so heavy that work completely consumes their lives." Qingque had the least patience for those types. Luckily, Chuuya wasn't like Fu Xuan; he didn't force her to work hard and even showed her sympathy. That was why she could slack off in peace.
"You mention that 'Master Diviner' often. You must have been close."
"..." Qingque's expression became complicated. "She is excellent. It would just be better if she didn't stare at me all the time. I was already banished to the archives; what more does she want?"
"Speaking of friends, the Trailblazer and Sushang are my real friends. As for the Master Diviner... well, I wouldn't dare presume to call us that." Qingque shrugged. Even if she felt they were friends, neither would ever say it out loud.
"The Trailblazer... you mention them quite a bit too."
"That's the famous Galactic Batter, the hero who saved the Xianzhou! More importantly, they're my tile-mate and my savior. But have I really mentioned them that much?" Qingque thought back. It seemed she had. "Well, if you're curious, I can tell you stories about them. The adventures of the Nameless on the Astral Express are way more exciting than a corporate drone working at the Divination Commission."
"I'd like that, if you're willing." Oda was somewhat curious, though it didn't show on his face.
"Before that," Qingque tossed a Celestial Jade tile behind her, accurately hitting a peeking head. "I have to catch some disobedient children."
"Ow!" Shinji, the most mischievous one, clutched his forehead. "Qingque, how did you find us?!" Four other little heads popped out.
Qingque put her hands on her hips. "You think those little tricks can hide from me? I'm someone who slips out of the side gate every day!"
After herding the five brats back to bed, Qingque and Oda ended their chat and went to their respective rooms.
★ ★ ★
Morning came, blissfully dreamless.
"Haha! A day without work! Good morning!"
After a spiteful bout of sleeping in, Qingque pulled back the curtains and beamed at the bright sunlight.
"What should I do today? Hmm, I saw a large Chinatown here earlier. Might as well check it out."
Qingque loved playing tiles, but life wasn't just tiles. She loved a life of leisure. She was curious about this "Hua nation" whose culture was so similar to the Xianzhou. Since she was on vacation, there was no harm in visiting.
She walked through Yokohama under the sun, the stone tiles on the ground reflecting a sharp, stinging light. This city had endured much; the Dragon's Head Conflict years ago had left nearly every street stained with blood. But in its wake, the Port Mafia had established its dominance. Under their iron-fisted rule, security had stabilized and the economy was recovering.
The blend of Japanese and Western styles gave the city a unique, diverse look. This fusion of tradition and modernity fascinated Qingque. On the Luofu, it was all upturned eaves and red pavilions—beautiful, but after a hundred years, it became mundane. Yokohama's character reminded her of the Yaoqing, which collaborated deeply with the IPC. It probably shared this same chaotic yet unified mix of ancient and modern.
?
Qingque backed up with a neutral expression.
"Lord Dazai?" Qingque surveyed Osamu Dazai's current situation. Fearing he might hold a grudge if she said nothing, she asked cautiously, "Are you... doing some cervical spine stretching?"
A hemp rope was looped around Dazai's neck. A dark silhouette, he was dangling from a tree branch, swaying gently.
He only lifted his eyelids to look at her when he heard her voice. He showed no intention of asking for help.
Please forgive the fact that a Xianzhou native lacked the common sense that hanging usually results in death. To them, even if a head falls off, you just sew it back on and you're good as new. Qingque's non-Xianzhou friends were also Pathstriders with the vitality to punch a hole through a bull. Combined with Dazai's unnerving composure, Qingque didn't immediately connect this to the knowledge she'd read in books.
As Qingque hesitated over whether to just walk away, Dazai's face grew paler and his breathing weakened.
Qingque thought about it and decided to lift him down. She felt like he was about to die, and as a subordinate, watching a boss die might be bad for her career.
"Are you alright, Lord Dazai?" Qingque suggested earnestly. "This stretching method seems to cost quite a bit of life force. Maybe try a different way next time?"
Dazai immediately broke into a violent coughing fit. After a long while, he complained in a raspy voice, "Failed again. I could already see the Sanzu River beckoning..." Then, he stared straight at Qingque.
Qingque looked down at herself. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary today.
"Is something wrong, Lord Dazai?"
"Why would you think I was stretching? I was committing suicide. Suicide," Dazai emphasized. "This is a method from the Complete Manual of Suicide. I was so close to my dream of the Sanzu River."
"...My apologies, Lord Dazai!" Qingque was quick to admit her mistakes. "I'll hang you back up right away."
"..." Dazai choked. He never expected this reaction. Seeing Qingque actually moving to lift him back toward the rope—she was surprisingly strong for a short girl—Dazai waved her off frantically.
"Forget it. Hanging is too painful after all." Dazai rubbed his neck, grimacing.
"It certainly looks painful." What could Qingque do? As a lowly clerk, she could only give him the "Ah, right, right, right" treatment.
Dazai massaged his throat, his tone carrying a hint of bait. "Don't you have anything else to say?"
'Eh? Say what?'
Qingque looked blank. The problem was that when a boss asks you to speak, you can't just stay silent. A question occurred to her. "Lord Dazai."
Qingque said solemnly, "Next time you commit suicide, could you please try not to let me run into you? If you die in front of me, the company will definitely make trouble for me."
"And to prevent the company from bothering me, I'll have to save you, which interrupts your suicide. So, next time, please don't do it in public. It's easy to scare the passersby."
Just moments ago, many people had looked at them like they were crazy and steered clear.
"...Pfft!" Dazai laughed. He whispered, "So that's the reaction?"
"Don't worry." Dazai patted Qingque's shoulder. "Even if I die, Mori-san won't take it out on you."
Qingque looked pained. "Lord Dazai, does your conscience not hurt when you say that?"
"And why do you want to die anyway? Is slacking off at work not fun enough? Did the company mistreat you? Even if the world is a piece of crap, you have to maintain your composure. Find fault in others; let yourself off the hook."
Qingque wasn't the hyper-active, meddling type like the Trailblazer. As a long-lived Xianzhou native with the soul of a salted fish, she followed the philosophy of "sweep the snow from your own doorstep."
However, the average moral standard of a Xianzhou native was high. If a little effort could save a life, she was willing to try.
"Why suicide?" Dazai sneered. It was like she'd hit a keyword; his eyes went hollow and his voice sounded like a ghost's. "Do you really think a human life has any meaning?"
'Oh boy. He feels just like those Nihility folks.'
Qingque shook her head. "There's no point in asking others about that. Only you can answer it."
"If you ask me, I can only tell you—"
"No matter what's wrong, playing a round of Celestial Jade will fix it." As someone who once tried to use every terminal illness in the book to request leave, Qingque spoke with authority.
"What is Celestial Jade?" A sharp light flickered in Dazai's eyes as he feigned curiosity. "Can I try it?"
Qingque's gaze shifted instantly. She no longer saw a boss; she saw a tile-mate. At this moment, Dazai's ulterior motives didn't matter!
"You're interested in Celestial Jade too, Lord Dazai? It's wonderful. I can explain it to you. Of course, the best way to learn is to play a round—"
★ ★ ★
On the first day of her happy vacation, Qingque pulled a Port Mafia Executive to the gaming table.
It was classic Qingque.
Meanwhile, back at the Port Mafia, Chuuya was working like a madman, utterly confused. 'Didn't I clear my desk yesterday? Why is there so much today?'
He leafed through the papers...
"DAZAIIIII—"
A high-pitched, operatic roar echoed through the floor, accompanied by the sound of paper being shredded.
★ ★ ★