In the second basement level of this unremarkable old office building, the air was thick with a suffocating mixture of smells. The ozone from overheated circuit boards mingled with the sour odor of fermented cheap takeout pizza, along with the sweat left behind by dozens of men working late in a confined space.
This was the temporary heart of "Saionji Information System (SIS)."
Compared to this, the bustling Tokyo streets outside were like a fresh park.
Dozens of Sun Microsystems workstations and IBM mainframes with their casings removed were stacked haphazardly. Thick black coaxial cables, like a nest of tangled snakes, wound across the dusty floor. Cooling fans emitted a deafening low-frequency hum, and green signal lights flashed frantically in the gloom, reflecting off pale, excited faces.
"No! No! Tell Sandy the buffer size is too small!"
Shimomura Tsutomu was perched on a swivel chair with a broken armrest, his feet resting on an expensive server chassis as he shouted into the receiver. His signature gray hoodie was stained with ketchup, and his hair was as messy as a bird's nest.
"If it's that kind of garbage firmware, forget running TCP/IP — it couldn't even run Snake! Rewrite it!"
He slammed the phone down and turned, waving his arms at the "Weirdo Legion" behind him.
"Hey! You there! Is the radio frequency band unlocked yet?"
In a corner, a man with a buzz cut was hunched over a pile of oscilloscopes. Without turning his head, he gave an "OK" gesture. He was a well-known radio maniac from the Akihabara underground, currently attempting to test wireless data transmission using illegal frequencies.
Beside him, a stuttering math genius was muttering to his screen, his fingers moving so fast they left afterimages on the keyboard. Nearby, a red-haired youth was violently dismantling an NEC terminal, sending sparks flying.
This was a Silicon Valley enclave in Tokyo. Chaotic, disordered, and filled with anarchic fervor.
Any one of these individuals would be considered a disaster in the outside world. But under the forced coordination of an even greater disaster like Shimomura Tsutomu, they had developed a strange chemical reaction, becoming a peculiar program that "somehow managed to run" — and run fast... it was just a bit unappealing to look at.
Whirr—
The automatic sensor doors slid open to both sides.
The clamor of the machine room didn't pause for a second when the doors opened. This group of madmen, immersed in the world of code, probably wouldn't look away from their screens even if an earthquake hit.
Not until several black figures blocked the light at the entrance.
Stepping out first were four burly men in black suits wearing air-tube earpieces. They quickly fanned out, occupying the four corners of the machine room, their cold gazes scanning the hackers.
Following them, a pair of polished lambskin shoes stepped onto the dusty anti-static floor.
Saionji Satsuki walked in.
She was wearing the dark blue uniform of Seika Academy, with a camel-colored cashmere coat draped over her shoulders.
Half a step behind her followed Saionji Masato. He wore a well-tailored three-piece suit, the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose reflecting the cold light of the servers. He pulled out a pristine white handkerchief and frowned as he covered his nose and mouth.
"So noisy."
Satsuki stopped. Her voice wasn't loud, but it reached Shimomura Tsutomu's ears clearly.
Shimomura Tsutomu finally sensed something was wrong.
Wait, why did he have such an ominous premonition?
Given his personality, only a handful of people could make his hair stand on end... He turned around, squinting his eyes as his gaze pierced through the dim lighting to land on the young girl standing at the entrance.
Staring at the computer screen for so long had made his vision blurry, but he immediately recognized the figure.
"Boss?"
Shimomura Tsutomu slid off his chair, casually wiped the grease from his hands, and a slight smile appeared on his face.
"Why did you come to a filthy place like this in person? If you're here to rush the progress, tell that old man we're recompiling the kernel. It can't be rushed."
The surrounding hackers also stopped their work, curiously eyeing the uninvited guests. They didn't know Masato, but they knew Satsuki — the patron who paid their salaries, bought expensive equipment, and could even source embargoed chips from the United States.
"I'm not here to rush you. Your recent efficiency has been good. Keep it up."
Satsuki looked around the junkyard-like environment, her brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
"I'm here to introduce someone to you."
She stepped aside, revealing Masato behind her.
"Saionji Masato. My cousin, and a former executive at IBM."
Satsuki's voice was cold and clear, carrying across the entire machine room.
"From today, he is the CEO of this company."
Shimomura Tsutomu blanked for a moment, looking Masato up and down. That sense of fastidiousness peculiar to elite bureaucrats made him instinctively uncomfortable.
"CEO?" Shimomura Tsutomu chewed his gum, looking dismissive. "What do we need one of those for? All I need to do is write code. Guys in suits like him only get in the way."
"You only need to write code, that's correct."
Satsuki looked at Shimomura Tsutomu, her gaze turning sharp.
"But who's going to ensure your electricity bills are paid? Who's going to deal with those annoying bureaucrats at the Ministry of Posts and Telecommunications? Who's going to turn your code into a product that can actually make money?"
She pointed at Masato.
"He is responsible for everything except the code — including making sure you madmen don't starve to death at your keyboards."
Masato lowered his handkerchief and took a step forward.
Facing Shimomura Tsutomu's provocative gaze, Masato didn't say a word.
He merely lowered his eyes slightly, his gaze passing over Shimomura Tsutomu's grease-stained shoulder to land on the tangle of black cables coiled on the floor like intestines.
He lifted his leather shoe and stepped lightly over the pile of cables.
"This place violates Article 3 of the Fire Service Act regarding 'accumulated materials in evacuation routes,' and also fails to meet the ISO dust-prevention standards required for precision electronic equipment."
Masato lifted his wrist and checked his watch.
"As CEO, I cannot allow the company's core assets to be placed in a high-risk location where a short circuit could occur at any moment."
He turned his head slightly, and without looking back, simply extended his hand, holding a pre-prepared access card between two fingers and offering it behind him.
The administrative assistant, who had been following in the shadows, immediately took it with both hands.
"Initiate the relocation plan."
"The underground data center at the Shinbashi Headquarters, formerly the APEX Building, has completed its dust-free renovation. It features dual-path power supply and industrial-grade climate control systems."
Then, he looked back at Shimomura Tsutomu and adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose, the lenses reflecting a cold light.
"At nine o'clock tomorrow morning, I want to see this team sitting in the Shinbashi office."
"The administrative department will handle the logistics of the move. You only need to bring your brains and your hard drives."
Shimomura Tsutomu was about to argue when Satsuki walked over.
She stood before Shimomura Tsutomu and slightly wrinkled her delicate nose. The mixture of pizza, sweat, and machine oil was even more pungent up close.
"Shimomura."
"Yes." Shimomura Tsutomu instinctively stood a bit straighter.
"You are the CTO of the Saionji Family. You represent the face of the company." Satsuki looked him up and down, her gaze lingering for a second on his flip-flops that exposed his toes. "I will not allow my technical genius to smell like a stray cat."
"Oh, come on, when you're doing tech, sweating is inevitable..."
"That is an excuse."
Satsuki cut him off coldly.
She raised her hand and clapped twice.
Clap, clap.
Outside the door, two young women walked in.
They were dressed in strictly tailored, deep black slim-fit long dresses with snow-white ruffled aprons tied at their waists, their hair pinned up meticulously. Although this attire had obvious server characteristics, it exuded a cold, hard professional aura, appearing capable and solemn.
The one on the left looked to be in her early twenties, with a gentle appearance and a hint of traditional Japanese feminine submissiveness in her eyes. The one on the right was slightly taller, with a cold gaze, holding a folder in her hand.
"This is Sayuri, and this is Eri."
Satsuki introduced them.
"From today, they are your personal housekeepers."
"House... housekeepers?" Shimomura Tsutomu was dumbfounded, even forgetting to chew his gum. "What do I need those for? I can take care of myself! And... and this is a machine room. Women coming in here will..."
"Cisco's Len team will be arriving next week."
Satsuki's voice became firm.
"I don't want them to think that Japan's top hackers live in a garbage dump. This is for the company's image, and also for your health."
Satsuki ignored his protest and turned slightly, her gaze directed toward the Shinbashi Headquarters that Masato had just mentioned.
"Next to the core machine room at the new headquarters, I've had an exclusive living area set up according to luxury apartment standards."
"It's equipped with private showers and sleep pods. And they..."
She pointed to the two women beside her.
"...will move in with the team. They will provide calculated nutritional meals and enforce mandatory rest periods."
"Sayuri will be responsible for your three meals a day, laundry, and cleaning. Eri will handle your schedule management. You only need to open your mouth to eat and raise your hands to dress. Don't waste even a single second on anything else — spend it all on writing code."
Shimomura Tsutomu looked at the two women, instinctively wanting to refuse. He was used to being free and didn't like being watched.
"I don't want..."
"Mr. Shimomura."
The maid named Sayuri took a step forward, her voice as gentle as water.
"The current environment is indeed quite poor. Before moving, could you let me tidy up for you first? At least... have a cup of hot coffee?"
She was holding a tray with a cup of freshly brewed hand-drip coffee. Its aroma instantly masked the odors in the machine room.
"This is the Blue Mountain you like, temperature-controlled at 85 degrees. Also, I noticed your shoulders are very stiff. Would you like me to help you relax?"
Shimomura Tsutomu froze.
He did feel like his neck was about to snap, and the smell of that coffee... was damn inviting.
The cold and elegant maid named Eri walked directly to his workstation.
She didn't speak, but with efficient movements, she categorized and organized the mountain of documents on the desk, even carefully clipping the password drafts he'd scribbled on napkins into a secure folder.
"Sir, these are important data. They should not be exposed in a public area."
Eri's voice was indifferent, but her efficiency was extremely high.
Shimomura Tsutomu looked at the two beautiful, obedient, and incredibly professional "assistants" by his side, then at the hot coffee that had been forced into his hand.
Someone to cook? Someone to clean up his mess? And he wouldn't have to listen to a boss nagging him?
He stole a glance at Masato. The new CEO had his back to him, directing the bodyguards to clear away the trash, seemingly with no intention of micromanaging him.
"As long as... you don't unplug my internet?" Shimomura Tsutomu asked tentatively.
"The internet is yours. Life belongs to them," Masato added without turning around.
Shimomura Tsutomu took a sip of the coffee.
It was delicious.
"Deal."
His face reddened slightly as he muttered and sat back in his chair.
"Don't block the light. I'm going to work."
The sound of keyboard typing rang out once more. This time, that sense of irritability seemed to have lessened...
Second floor, glass corridor
Through the one-way glass, one could overlook the entire operation of the machine room.
Satsuki stood before the glass, holding a Rubik's Cube, idly turning it.
Masato stood behind her, watching the scene below.
Sayuri was feeding Shimomura Tsutomu a slice of cut apple, and while he chewed, he stared at the screen with a silly grin, his fingers flying across the keyboard.
"Young Lady."
Masato pushed up his glasses, his voice low.
"Is this what you call 'maintenance'?"
"This is 'domestication.'"
Satsuki looked at the Rubik's Cube in her hands, her fingers flicking rapidly as the red squares quickly returned to their places.
"Uncle Masato, a genius like this is an uncontrollable variable. If we want him to stay with the Saionji Family forever, money alone isn't enough."
"He must become accustomed to this kind of life where everything is provided for him. Once he can't live without this 'emperor-level' treatment, he'll never be able to go back to that cold garage."
"No matter how much of a genius he is, he is still a human being, and a man with normal sexual orientation."
"This is what they call — it is easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to go from luxury to frugality."
She turned her head and looked at Masato.
"The one named Eri will report his communication records to me once a day. Sayuri is responsible for capturing his stomach."
"If necessary..."
Satsuki's gaze fell on the somewhat shy genius below.
"Even if emotions must be used as chains, he will be locked here."
Masato felt a chill in his heart.
Looking at the fifteen-year-old girl before him, he once again felt a sense of... shock that transcended her age.
Achieving maximum efficiency through the precise manipulation of human nature.
"I have learned much."
Masato lowered his head and wrote a line in the work log.
Asset Maintenance Program initiated. Status: Stable.
Downstairs.
The hum of the machine room continued as before. The setting sun filtered through the gaps in the blinds, casting shadows like cage bars across Shimomura Tsutomu's back.
He was free, but he could no longer go anywhere.