Yuriko and Souichirou stared at him with slightly widened eyes. Whether they were about to reply was irrelevant, Tysone continued, his tone calm. Almost placid. "In fact. I don't really need your help. Admittedly, it'd be beneficial and crucial, but not essential. If you think my idea has some genuine merit, both from a political and business standpoint. I'd appreciate it if you could approach me on more equal grounds, as arrogant as it may sound."
"Then. It's on you, if you choose to continue." Souichirou nodded curtly. It looked like a mix between a reprimanding glare and an impressed squint, though maybe it was his imagination. "The Rage Room, then. Should I hear from anyone I trust about a questionable reputation, and you cannot ensure a sustainable business with enough margin to offset any losses..."
Souichirou leaned back into the couch with a smug expression. Tysone swore he was intentionally poking fun at him, but there was still some sense of camaraderie left. This man really knew his way around people, didn't he?
"None of that will happen, sir." Tysone said. "I have a reputation in mind and have already built up a plan as to how things will unfold, from the marketing strategy to the profit model. Of course, a great deal of it depends on how the concept itself turns out, and any adaptations we might have to make once we launch. In any case. It's safe to assume that the Rage Room project won't end up as a failure. But if it does. Rest assured that I would shoulder the costs and losses alone, and give no excuses."
He straightened his shirt. "Though, I'm sure such measures would never come into play."
Souichirou closed his eyes briefly. "Is that so?"
Yuriko wore something of a smile as she patted her husband's shoulder.
Tysone slowly relaxed his fists.
Souichirou lightly slapped his desk. "I'll let Saya use her trust fund for the time being." He stared at Saya, who looked away. "I reckon this could serve as a good lesson for her, whether it works or not."
Tysone stiffened his entire body to contain his relief. So, they had reached a decision, and it appeared favorable to him. Perhaps his message had not fallen upon deaf ears. It wasn't his complete victory, but at least he wasn't going to go against a family with an unfathomable influence.
Because, yes, even though Tysone was confident he could single-handedly surpass the entire Takagi Family's net worth, for the time being, he'd rather not have a cutthroat politician and a genius businesswoman as potential enemies.
"I'll be watching you, young man." Souichirou asserted. "There's potential there. A lot. In time. There might be a chance you have earned my trust."
And just like that. That was that.
"Alrighty then! Shall we get dinner?"
It had gone smoother than Tysone had expected. He had made an impression. Bad. Good. It didn't matter. He had proven he was willing to stand his ground. The Rage Room was a perfect concept. The people living in this timeline might have the intelligence, but they still held on to the mindset of a much safer, easier era. All of this would go against the normal way of thinking, against the herd. People are stubborn by nature and resist change.
They relocated to a wide, fancy dining hall, the Takagi estate truly was one of a kind, and soon they had all been served a banquet that would feed an entire family for a couple of weeks.
Tysone was seated right next to Saya, who seemed a bit uptight. As such, he thought it'd be fun to kind of pinch her side. The moment his fingers made contact, Saya jerked, nearly toppling her plate to the floor in an unlady-like way. The noise attracted her parents' attention.
Saya blushed a vivid crimson, uttering apologies before she threw a glare at Tysone.
"You've got to loosen up a bit, girl." Tysone said lightly, almost airily. "Everything went well, didn't it?"
"You didn't have to get so touchy." She huffed.
"Hey. I can't help it sometimes." He whispered slowly, smirking at the blush decorating her cheeks.
Saya rolled her eyes. "Says the perverted bastard."
"No worries, missy." Tysone waved a hand, in playful dismissal. "You're not my type."
"You..."
Saya's wide-eyed look of disbelief turned into a mortified glare.
Meanwhile, that brief interaction was fully captured by the ever watchful eyes of Yuriko Takagi.
…
When Tysone finally got back home, he collapsed on the bed. He'd change and shower come tomorrow morning—he was too exhausted to get up again. Still, ironically enough, sleep didn't come as easy as he wanted.
He stared at the ceiling. And with his eyes closed, Tysone reflected on everything that had happened thus far. It almost didn't feel real. He wondered if perhaps this was merely one last memory his dying self was offering him, one final fragment of life before his consciousness completely ceased to exist.
He was on a path to success.
If only Malik had been there to share the experience. That bastard was supposed to have been the first to drink with him once he turned eighteen, dammit. He died young, died stupid.
'I'll make a change here.' Tysone thought determinedly. 'For sure.'
It was then that his phone vibrated.
With a drowsy look, and halfway expecting it to be Saya. He flipped it open, ready to reply with some saucy, easily misunderstandable texting that'd have the younger girl blushing tomato red. 'She's too young for me, but it's still extremely hilarious to rile her up.'
Maybe it was because she was too smart for her own good.
However, it was not Saya.
Mai: Are you ignoring me?
Oh crap.
Tysone facepalmed. He had totally forgotten about Mai's messages. A quick swipe upward to show their chat history exposed two unreplied messages from his favorite bunny girl.
He tried to play it cool.
Tysone: Oh hey, sorry, my phone was out for a bit haha
Mai: For two days? Do you think I'm a fool?
Tysone: Kind of?
Mai: …
Tysone: Just messing around! I've been extra busy ironing out the finer details of this new project. My bad. I should've let you know sooner.
The reply was instant. It seemed to have alleviated whatever mild annoyance Mai felt towards him.
Mai: You are busy with something new, then?
Tysone: Uh-huh. It could become big.
A short pause.
Mai: I see. Well. Be careful.
This time, Tysone did not even try to hold back.
Tysone: With the ladies throwing themselves at my feet you mean? lol
Mai: Okay, jeez, I get it, no need to shove your promiscuity in my face.
'Cute girl.'
Tysone felt his sleepiness slowly dissipate, though it could still be felt behind his eyes.
Tysone: So, what did you want to talk about?
Mai: Nothing...
Tysone: Nothing? Come on, no need to be so shy, cutie.
Mai: Can you be a little more original, please?
Tysone laughed, nearly spitting out a loud wheeze.
Tysone: More original than I already am? Baby, please, there's no other like me in this world.
Mai: Idiot.
Mai: Actually, there is something I want to talk to you about.
The pop-up notifications poured forth like a wave.
Mai: I need you to help me come up with a tune for the lyrics you wrote.
Tysone was caught by surprise. Then he rolled his eyes.
Tysone: I don't know how to play any instruments.
Besides, he was so busy with his Rage Room that he didn't really want to get sidetracked at such an important moment.
Mai wasn't deterred, however.
Mai: Maybe, but surely, you did think of something when you wrote this, didn't you? Even if you hum it for me, it'll be enough.
Mai: Also, I'll pay you an extra.
An extra? Tysone's eyes morphed into dollar signs. He typed so fast that his thick fingers nearly made a mess with the clustered buttons on his keyboard.
Tysone: M'lady, you should have uttered such poetry earlier. I'll have you on the path to stardom with my panties-dropping humming skills.
Mai: Pervert…
Tysone's chuckle slowly faded before a more serious expression adorned his tired face.
Tysone: Look, hunny bunny, I'm willing to help you as much as you want, but it'll have to take a backseat for the moment. Can I contact you at a later date?
Mai took a while to respond.
Mai: Fine. But it's a promise, right?
Her determined, cute scowl flashed in his mind. Ah, how nice and beautifully illegal was it to get entangled with two younger women? He almost wanted to smash his head through a wall.
To be fair, Japan's age of consent made it perfectly legal, though that didn't mean Tysone was fine with that. Would it be bad rep for his business if the media knew of the girls flocking around him?
At least, they were not lolis.
Tysone: Right.
He replied, eventually.
The chat concluded there.
Tysone once again found himself staring at the ceiling of his room.
Author Note: More chapters on P@treon.com/LordCampione.