My childhood friend got me drunk and did it with me. I think it felt really good, so I continued being with her as well. ...Yandere? what is that?

Chapter 15: The Weight of Expectations

[Natsume’s POV]

I should’ve expected something like this.

Reina wasn’t the type to invest her time in something—or someone—without reason. And yet, the directness of her offer still caught me off guard.

“Stay here. Join Taira Corporation.”

She hadn’t said it as a plea or a negotiation. She had simply stated it, like a fact that was bound to happen.

And that’s what made it dangerous.

I knew Miyuki had a hand in pulling me into this project. Her reach was too vast, her influence too precise, for this to be a mere coincidence. But the way Reina had maneuvered things… this wasn’t Miyuki’s doing.

Reina had chosen me herself.

I wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.

I knew one thing for certain, though.

This was going to get complicated.

If I thought Reina would go easy on me after expressing her interest in keeping me, I was sorely mistaken.

If anything, she had become stricter.

Every day, I was thrown into increasingly complex tasks. The project was relentless, its demands higher than anything I had experienced before. It was more than just a collaboration—it was an ambitious, industry-shifting initiative that had the potential to change how business was conducted at this level.

And Reina was at the heart of it all.

She wasn’t just leading; she was orchestrating.

She dissected every idea, scrutinized every strategy, and pushed every team member—including me—to their absolute limit.

And in doing so, she started to teach me things I hadn’t even considered before.

It started with subtle corrections—adjustments to how I structured reports, refined proposals, and analyzed data. But before long, it evolved into something much deeper.

One late evening, as I sat in the project room reviewing my latest report, Reina walked in and sat across from me.

“You’re thinking too small.”

I glanced up. “I don’t think that’s—”

She held up a hand, cutting me off. “You are thinking too small. And too linearly.”

I frowned. “I thought structured approaches were the most efficient way to handle this kind of work.”

“They are,” she admitted, “for people who only aim to complete tasks. But if you want to be exceptional, you need to start thinking like someone who dictates the flow of work, not just follows it.”

I set down my pen. “Alright. Enlighten me.”

She smirked slightly, then pulled out a blank sheet of paper.

With precise, fluid movements, she sketched out a diagram—nodes connected by interwoven lines.

“Instead of approaching it as a step-by-step process, think of it as a network,” she explained. “Each decision impacts multiple aspects at once. If you only focus on one step at a time, you’ll always be playing catch-up. But if you think holistically—if you predict—then you can control outcomes rather than react to them.”

I studied the diagram carefully.

It was… different. But it made sense.

Reina watched me for a moment, then leaned back slightly. “You’re getting it.”

I exhaled. “You could’ve just told me I was thinking too narrowly.”

She gave me a knowing look. “That wouldn’t have been as effective. You learn best when you discover the answer yourself.”

I arched a brow. “That sounds suspiciously like something a teacher would say.”

“In a way, I suppose I am teaching you,” she said, a slight smirk tugging at her lips. Then, leaning just a fraction closer, she added in a lower tone, “But don’t expect me to start holding your hand. I only invest in people who can keep up.”

Something about the way she said that sent a strange sensation through me—like a challenge wrapped in something else.

I cleared my throat. “Noted.”

She smiled. “Good.”

From that moment on, Reina’s lessons became more deliberate.

She would call me out on inefficient processes, challenge my assumptions, and force me to refine my thinking. And when I failed to meet her standards, she let me know.

“Seriously?” she said one evening, tossing my revised proposal onto the table. “This is the best you could come up with?”

I scowled. “I thought it was solid.”

“For an intern? Maybe.” She tapped the document. “But at this level, you need to be faster. More precise.”

I exhaled, rubbing my temples. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

She smirked. “No point in coddling you.”

I shook my head, but—even as I fought against the frustration—I realized something.

I was improving.

Reina’s relentless approach, her constant demand for refinement, wasn’t just for the sake of pushing me. She expected more from me.

And, strangely enough, I didn’t mind.

When I finally produced a version she was satisfied with, she nodded in approval.

“Now that’s more like it.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “I’ll take that as high praise.”

“You should,” she said simply. “It doesn’t come often.”

One evening, long after most of the other teams had left, I found myself lingering in Reina’s office.

She was seated at her desk, reviewing yet another document with her usual sharp focus.

For a moment, I just watched her.

Then, without really thinking, I asked, “Why are you doing this?”

She didn’t look up. “Doing what?”

“This.” I gestured vaguely. “Teaching me. Investing your time in me.”

Finally, she met my gaze.

For a brief moment, there was something different in her expression—something unreadable.

Then, she smirked. “Because you’re worth the effort.”

I blinked.

She leaned back slightly, crossing her arms. “You’re sharp, Natsume. And whether you realize it or not, you’re already starting to think on a different level.”

She continued, “From where I belong, I went to institutions which teach us what you implement in real time. Those things which are not found in other institutions but only theirs. Yet, you manifest such ideas as if it were just left there, wanting to be picked up by your insights.

I exhaled. “You’re really trying to sell this whole ‘join The Taira Corporation’ thing, aren’t you?”

She chuckled. “I don’t need to sell it. The work speaks for itself.”

I shook my head. “You’re impossible.”

Her smirk widened. “And yet, you’re still here.”

I had no response to that.

Because she was right. Even if I was technically being forced by my own company.

I was still here.

And with each passing day… I was starting to wonder if that was such a bad thing.

It was late when I finally left the building.

As I stepped out into the cool night air, my phone buzzed.

I glanced at the screen and frowned.

It was my department head.