Ever since the arrival of a certain charming young lady, even going to work felt like something new.
Some people dream of standing on mountaintops and looking down at the world; others get lost in the comforts of shortcuts. But Yin Ze? He wasn't in a rush. He relished the feeling of *getting there*, of being *on the way*.
His little motorbike weaved through the crisscrossing veins of the city's streets, and even the smallest details that usually blurred into the background now came into focus—the scent of freshly baked bread, a dusty secondhand shop piping out Showa-era ballads, a lazy cat sunbathing on a wall.
Beneath the chaos and clamor, he caught glimpses of a rare kind of Tokyo tranquility.
He cruised at thirty kilometers an hour—slow, but not every part of life needed to be lived at full throttle. Sometimes, stealing half a day for yourself, letting go of money and ambition, could be its own kind of Zen.
So many people are swallowed by the assembly-line rhythm of work. But right now, he was untethered. He was free. He was *present*.
A smile played on his face, light and content, as if he had finally broken through the set of *The Truman Show* and touched something real.
And the moment you start changing, the world inevitably answers back.
Sure enough—
He was late.
"You seriously came from the coastal region or something?!" barked Kashiwa Ippei the moment he saw him. "The audition's nearly over!"
"My bad, my bad! I just couldn't go any faster," Yin Ze apologized, palms together. "The map was all twists and turns—hit a wall here, ran into a wall there. It's basically second only to trying to navigate Mountain Fog City with GPS."
"Less talking, more moving," his agent grunted, shoving him into the recording booth like a duck into water.
Thankfully, Yin Ze was no stranger to this routine. He'd been through plenty of sets and tried his hand at numerous auditions. This wasn't new territory.
That said, aside from his roles as a valiant knight and a quirky yokai named Gin, he hadn't exactly landed anything major. Most of the time, he was just background filler—throwaway lines, forgettable voices.
That's the voice acting scene for you. Too many monks, too little porridge. And even if you're just a novice monk fresh out of the temple, you're often thrown in to compete against the abbots themselves.
For Yin Ze, landing even a minor role on the first try was already a sign of talent.
Still, his agent clearly thought he had more in him. Lately, he'd even been pulling strings to get him mid-tier roles—supporting leads, love interests, and the like.
But truth be told… Yin Ze had never taken an acting class in his life. Everything he had now came from the training Takizawa gave him and a naturally gifted voice.
That wasn't quite enough.
This time around, the role he auditioned for was a twisted, dangerously charismatic villain—one of those unstable personalities that fans couldn't help but love. At first, the sound director was impressed. The voice, the delivery—they hit the mark. But after a few rounds of feedback, Yin Ze still couldn't deliver the kind of dynamic, in-the-moment shift they were hoping for. In the end, the director called in the next person.
They ran into each other again in the hallway.
"Don't sweat it. It's just a failed audition—no big deal," Kashiwa said in a gentler tone.
"I'm not upset," Yin Ze replied, waving him off.
"Sure you're not. That was for *my* benefit. I know how thick your skin is," his agent grumbled.
"..."
"But I'll be honest—watching you these past few times, you're still a little green," the agent added. "We need to work on that. So tell me, you watch anime much?"
"Come on, in this industry? Of course I do."
"Then talk to me—what do you like?"
Now *that* was a trap. Workplace bullying, clearly.
This world was full of lookalikes and strange parallels. Sure, Yin Ze watched plenty, but where to even begin?
Like that "realistic" tennis anime—famous for its precision and grounded storytelling. There's *no* nonsense like smashing walls with tennis balls, collapsing ships, or leaving players bloody on the court. And the author? Loves throwing in sweet romance moments between the leads.
Then there's the famously diligent mangaka in the industry who never takes time off for "inspiration" and despises gambling—especially mahjong.
And let's not forget the director who gave us those wonderfully deranged purple robots. Efficient to a fault. Never delays a release.
This kind of stuff? Too many examples to count. Like how Kenshin became a woman, yet Arthur never did.
Seriously, Arthur *should've* been the one. What a waste.
"Newcomers can't beat the veterans on skill alone," Kashiwa went on. "You need packaging. A brand. We should think about your 'persona.' You're good-looking, a University of Tokyo grad—we could totally push a 'dream boyfriend' image. Target female audiences. Otome games, fan meets… the whole deal."
"But I already have a dream role in mind," Yin Ze interrupted.
"Oh? Do tell." Kashiwa raised an eyebrow.
"A harem anime protagonist!" Yin Ze beamed.
"A reverse harem, huh? Got it," Kashiwa replied with fake understanding.
"No, no! The kind where I'm surrounded by cute girls, *not* handsome boys!"
"...That's the complete opposite of what I just pitched! Were you even listening to me?!"
"Come on, this is a talent-based profession! And you want to turn me into some playboy gigolo while you play the madam and scam women for easy money. I'm so disappointed in you."
"Sacrifices must be made," his agent said solemnly. "Plenty of people don't even have looks to trade on. No more arguing—I'll keep an eye out for female-market projects. For now, let's stick to plan A."
"Actually… there's another path I'm *very* passionate about. Deeply motivated, even," Yin Ze said suddenly.
Kashiwa winced. "What is it?"
"An adult OVA protagonist."
"Excuse me?!" His agent nearly choked.
"You seem biased against *those* voice actors, but some of them are *incredibly* skilled. I've seen them carry entire productions when the animation flopped!" Yin Ze argued, dead serious.
"You can't just dive into that right out the gate! No way! Absolutely not!"
"Fine… how about adult visual novels, then? GalGames?"
"Still no! Not happening!"
"Not even a one percent chance?"
"I *might* let you brush up against the edge of it—but we're changing genres," Kashiwa muttered. "If it's a BL aimed at fujoshi and you're ready to… commit physically, I *might* consider it."
"Wow. Way to double standard." Yin Ze was the one stunned now.
"How about we compromise? No adult stuff, no BL. Just regular otome games. Deal?"
So they'd come full circle. Classic negotiation tactics—meet in the middle.
"Fine. I'll do it. But if it bombs, we're changing directions," Yin Ze sighed.
"Deal! I swear on it!" Kashiwa agreed instantly. After all, to him, Yin Ze was born for this. No way he'd flop.
"I've got a dinner meeting. You handle things here for now," Kashiwa said, turning to leave. "Oh, and Matsuoka's here too. You might want to say hi."
"Oh, he's around?"
"Yeah, auditioned for the minor character who got one-shotted by your villain."
"Cool. I'll go find him. You go… be fabulous or whatever." Yin Ze waved.
"Fabulous?! Managing social ties *is* part of the job, you know!"