Very quickly, I had to face the facts.
Working with only one good hand was rather complicated, even though I hardly had to write with a pen.
I still couldn't clench my right hand even after a few days, and Mr. Chiba was watching me from afar to make sure I was doing the job I was assigned.
In the meantime, Mr. Nakatsuki had also come to see me to discuss the project with Master Osagawa.
He was a rather small man with a bit of a belly, whom I didn't see that much at the office. He was out all the time, visiting one or another author in his portfolio. And on the rare occasions when he was around, he wasn't talkative either; which made me appreciate the man I recognized myself in.
However, if he was stingy with words, once he spoke...
"You see, it's not a complicated concept. They have several authors, a bit like those horse races where you bet on a particular nag. Except that for TV, it's a foregone conclusion." He explained. "So you don't have to worry, the production team will take care of everything, and we'll just be there to mother him and cater to his whims."
... He was rather direct and familiar.
"I don't understand this section here," I then said, pointing to a portion of the eighteenth page of the file that had been given to me.
He leaned forward toward me to read the passage in question, and scratched his cheek.
"Um, this? That means we're going to be housed by the production crew at the filming location," he said, straightening up. "Which is pretty good, considering we won't have any expense reports to fill out!"
Housed at the filming location? Did that mean we wouldn't be going home in the evening?
The idea of being away from home, even for a few days, made me a little uneasy.
Plus, it would be the first time I'd had to go away for several days because of my job.
"I will keep on working with my other authors, even from a distance," Mr. Nakatsuki thought aloud. But then he started to smile with all his teeth. "I'll be counting on you to take care of Osagawa sensei if I'm not available!"
Take care of him? In what way, exactly?
Should I comply with all his requests, or something like that? Or act as an intermediary between him and the production team? And then I'd have to talk a lot, wouldn't I?
I didn't like the idea of having to talk to strangers out of the blue. These were people I had never met before, and whose behavior I would probably have trouble assessing.
I couldn't even ask Mr. Nakatsuki about this, because he had already gone back to his own desk at the other end of the floor. He was the kind of person who imposed his rhythm on others, and if you lost the thread, it quickly became complicated to talk to him.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a heavy object being placed on my desk, and turning around without being surprised, I saw that Mr. Chiba had just deposited a bundle of documents and files as thick as two large encyclopedias.
"Process this before you leave for Osagawa sensei's show, will you?" he said without giving me time to answer anything back.
I then stood for a few minutes looking at the newly appeared pile of paper. Then, looking again at the file sent by the TV station, I saw the start and end dates of the project. I had one week to finish everything I had in progress, and I had to add what my supervisor had just dumped on my desk.
It was going to be a lot, and I hoped I wouldn't have another nasty surprise like this until next Monday.
However, it was work. Work that I intended to finish before I left.
Absorbed by my proofreading and all the messages I had to read and send back, I didn't see the time passing. And so, peacefully, the week passed quickly; without my hearing anything from the detective, or anything significant happening. My black eye was gone at this point.
I had worked like the automaton whose name was used to describe my attitude, and for once I wouldn't contradict them on that.
I was aware of it now, but... had my life always been so boring?
Impulsively, I took my phone out of my pocket and looked at my message history.
Nothing at all.
My heart sank in my chest. What was this feeling again?
"What's wrong, Nijima-kun?" asked Mrs. Asanuma, who was passing by my desk again.
I hadn't even seen her walking towards me, and the sudden question made me hastily put away my smartphone.
Why was she asking me that?
Seeing me frown, she added:
"Ah, your girlfriend isn't answering you?" She guessed with a sympathetic smile. "It happens from time to time, this kind of thing. But think about it, she's probably just as busy with her work as you are."
I found myself shaking my head, a little embarrassed to talk about this kind of thing with a co-worker.
Maybe Mrs. Asanuma was right and the detective was busy. She couldn't forget someone she had blackmailed like that, could she?
The editor smiled at me again, and quickly patted my shoulder before walking away from my desk.
Again that familiar gesture. A gesture that only I received from the older woman.
Did she see me as a teenager, or a young student? I had been working in the publishing house for a few years, and she had not lost this strange habit. It was as if she felt responsible for me, like an older sister or a school teacher.
Looking back at my computer screen, I watched the minutes passing by on the digital clock.
I already had time to see with Mr. Nakatsuki how the trip would be organized on Monday morning, and my tasks were almost all done. Strangely enough, even with the overload of work and a partly unusable hand, I was not tired. A bit like I had hoped the weekend would come quickly. I had also been a little disappointed not to hear from the detective.
Which meant that something I had been dreading would have to happen: I'd have to make the first move myself.
However, now that I thought about it... It didn't seem to bother me that much, when it came to this woman...
Rummaging in my backpack under my desk, I grabbed my wallet, and took out two white business cards carefully stored in one of the pockets usually reserved for loyalty cards.
Two cards from the Orion agency. One completely blank, and the other with an address written on the back.
There were no opening hours written, so I wasn't sure what to expect, if I went there at the end of my work day. Would she even be there? Wouldn't she take it badly, seeing me turning up after a whole week without hearing from me? Should I confront her about what I thought was wrong?
The answer to these questions, I would only get it by trying to get there, after all.
And already, I was wincing inwardly. Given the neighborhood where it was located, close to the heart of the city, I would surely have to abandon my car and finish the trip by public transportation; since parking spaces were scarce.
Quickly, I looked on the internet which subway lines served the area. Then, gathering my things, I turned off my computer before going down the stairs to the first floor.
By leaving now, I would have just enough time to catch the next train.