Miyamura curses colorfully at his phone. It’s so vulgar, it’s almost artistic. His glare alone can burn his phone to ashes. 

It’s quite scary. 

The beta waiter drops the packaged food on the table and scampers off like a rabbit. I wish I could run away too. 

“Would you be interested in attending the private shareholders conference with me?”. He asks, still not looking up from his phone.

To say my heart stopped working would be an understatement— a knot formed ...