To make matters worse, the unit next door was said to be cursed. By the time Shiina had moved in two years ago, there was no trace of any shadiness, but an unpleasant smell had tickled his nostrils the first time he had stepped onto the fifth floor. No tenant seemed to stick around in the unit. He was convinced that there might be ghosts.
People seemed to come and go from the unit. He’d seen people at the door a few times. They didn’t seem like real estate agents, nor did they look like they were on company business.
“What a creepy unit,” muttered Shiina as he climbed the stairs.
The mother and daughter he’d seen last week had mentioned something about a clinic. He knew he was being nosy, but while they were speaking, he’d peered into the carrier the daughter was holding. There had been a small white kitten inside.
A chill had gone down his spine. He had heard the unit’s history from the real estate agent. It couldn’t be that something similar was happening again. If that was the case, he couldn’t be next door any longer. He wasn’t particularly an animal lover, but the heinous acts of the criminal dealers made him sick.
He reached the fifth floor and stepped into the hallway and was making his way to his office at the end. Just next to his office was the jinxed unit, and a woman—willowy and pale—was standing outside.
A shiver crawled over his skin. As he passed her, he stole a glimpse. Her bangs were neatly pinned up, while the rest of her hair was loosely pulled back. She was no ordinary woman. She’s absolutely stunning.
The woman stood solemnly in front of the door, her eyes down.
Just as he was closing the door to his office, he heard the woman speak.
“Come back. Come back, my little Chitose.”
Her voice was faint and tinged with tears.
He shut the door and shuddered.
“Creepy…”
The neighboring unit had to be haunted. He was seriously considering moving out now. It would only be a matter of time before trouble came his way.
Tank and Tangerine
4
Tank and Tangerine
On the ground floor of the shop, ladies’ handbags designed by Tomoka were neatly displayed. The production of those bags took place in the office-cum-atelier on the second floor.
“I can’t keep it up anymore,” said a retail assistant with tears in her eyes.
Not again, thought Tomoka Takamine as she furrowed her brow. She hated talking to emotional people. It was a waste of time, and frankly, she wasn’t in the mood to console anyone anyway. She compensated her assistants with salaries that matched their workload and the pride they took in their job, so any complaints were simply selfish.
“I can’t keep it up either,” another voice chimed in. It was the office assistant.
The employees were both in their early twenties, had studied design to some extent, and had eagerly applied to work there. Yet, just because she’d been a little hard on them, they were now whining. She’d had enough of this.
Still, to have two people revolt at the same time would disrupt the shop’s work. On top of wholesale orders, they also accepted custom orders, and their delivery deadlines were approaching.
Tomoka sighed. She was going to win this argument and shut them up. But before she could, someone else, the senior assistant in charge of design, spoke up.
“I can’t do this either.”
“What?” Tomoka was taken aback by the unexpected third complaint. “Let’s all take a breather. What’s going on all of a sudden?”
“It’s not sudden at all. I can’t deal with your perfectionism anymore. Consider today my last day.”
“Last day? Are you seriously quitting, just like that?”
“If the senior assistant is quitting, I’m quitting, too.”
“Then I’m quitting, too.” The two who had begun this whole conversation chimed in.
Before she could stop them, all three left the office.
Alone, Tomoka was left in a daze. It was already pitch-black outside. The space was brightly lit, and she could see her entire body reflected in the glass.
“Oh, boy.” Tomoka heard a voice and saw her business partner, Junko, enter the room. “Three people quitting at once is tough. What do you think? Should we give in and ask them to come back?”
Tomoka was annoyed. “We’re not going to give in. The way those kids work is just so sloppy and careless.”
“Even so, no one can keep up with your obsessive perfectionism.”
Tomoka had met Junko in college. They had both aspired to become designers. While Junko had faced setbacks in design, she had excelled in accounting and business management. At the age of twenty-nine, they started a company together and opened a store in Kyoto. It had been almost three years since they’d started.
Tomoka’s store on Sakaimachi Street, a popular place to drop by while on a leisurely stroll, was gaining repeat customers of late, and they also had long-term customers who came from far away. This was all thanks to their working late into the night to create quality products. It wasn’t a question of her perfectionist principles.
“I’m not asking for perfection,” Tomoka snapped. “I just want things done the right way. Within the realm of common sense, of course. What’s wrong with being particular about materials and processes? After all, it’s their job to minimize costs and source materials efficiently. Anyone can understand that…” She felt a pain in the pit of her stomach from getting worked up.
Seeing Tomoka double over, Junko said, “See? You’re tormenting yourself with that ‘doing things the right way’ attitude. Your energy has been spinning out of control recently. You need to relax a little.”
