[OreGaIru : New Me!]

….

[-Continuation-]

.

[-Third Person View-]

Unlike the game launch, the after-party was a quieter affair.

Most of the event's attendees had already left, leaving behind a more intimate group reserved for the team and a few close associates.

The celebratory energy lingered, though muted, as the focus shifted from the event itself to casual conversations and winding down.

Naturally, Hachiman stayed behind with Ryota, both of them sharing the title of co-director for the project. The two of them naturally gravitated toward a corner of the room, their exchange minimal but familiar as they observed the remaining crowd.

With them, only two others remained.

No, it wasn't Komachi - she had left earlier, her exams looming large.

Their parents insisted on keeping an eye on her, so they had gone home together.

Yui had left too.

She hadn't informed her family she would be out late, and trying to explain now wouldn't end well.

That left just Yukino, Hachiman, and Ms. Hiratsuka, who now had an unexpected connection to the group as Ryota's girlfriend.

The four of them sat together in a quieter part of the venue, surrounded by the distant hum of conversation from a few lingering employees.

Ryota leaned back in his chair, balancing precariously on the back legs.

"Well, that's that. We pulled it off." He stretched his arms behind his head. "Now we just have to survive the reviews."

Shizuka asked, her hand resting lightly on the arm of her chair. "Wouldn't the reaction be mostly positive? I mean, the game looked pretty smooth when you guys played it?"

"They should be. Unless they find some huge bug we somehow missed it." Hachiman muttered, arms crossed as he leaned against the table. His voice was dry, but his smirk gave him away.

Yukino sat beside him, her posture impeccable despite the late hour. She glanced at Hachiman. "If that happens, I imagine you will be busy crafting an apology statement."

Ryota snorted, pointing at Hachiman. "Yeah, you are on PR duty if it comes to that."

"Pass." Hachiman replied immediately. "That's your job. I am just here to make sure things don't crash - literally."

Shizuka tilted her head, her eyes narrowing with a teasing glint. "Come on, Hachiman. Don't tell me you can't handle a little heat. You are good at handling people."

Yukino raised an eyebrow, clearly holding back a smirk. "He does have a talent for damage control. Perhaps you should consider it a career path."

Hachiman groaned, letting his head drop onto his folded arms on the table. "I am getting bullied by my girlfriend and my teacher. Great. Truly a dream scenario."

Ryota burst out laughing, slapping the table hard enough to make the remaining glasses clink.

"Welcome to the club, man. I have been living that life for months now." He shot a playful look at Shizuka, who simply shrugged, the picture of amused nonchalance.

The banter flowed naturally as the weight of the long day eased, replaced by a comfortable rhythm. One by one, the last stragglers from the event began to trickle out, leaving the venue noticeably emptier.

Eventually, Ryota stretched and stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Alright, I need a drink that isn't coffee or energy-based. You three are staying, or are we calling it a night?"

Shizuka glanced at the clock on her phone. "I will stay. Someone has to make sure you don't try to drink half the bar."

"Careful." Ryota quipped. "That sounded suspiciously like you volunteering to join me."

Yukino turned to Hachiman, her gaze steady. "And I am not leaving without you." She said softly, her tone carrying a warmth that felt at odds with her usual precision.

Hachiman glanced away, muttering. "Yeah, yeah."

The group gathered their things and moved toward the quieter side of the venue, where a small lounge area promised a more private space.

Tonight wasn't over just yet.

The lounge was dimly lit, its muted ambiance a stark contrast to the earlier bustle of the event.

A few scattered glasses and plates on nearby tables hinted at the earlier festivities, but for now, the space was mostly theirs.

Ryota made a beeline for the bar, his steps light despite the long day.

"So." He said, pouring a drink and glancing over his shoulder. "Any post-launch regrets yet?"

Hachiman dropped into the nearest chair with an audible sigh, leaning back and rubbing his temples. "Nah… well…" He trailed off, a sudden thought crossing his mind.

Ryota raised an eyebrow. "Well, what?"

Straightening slightly, Hachiman's expression shifted into one of mild irritation, as though realizing something too late. "This event made the news, didn't it?"

Ryota shrugged, taking a sip from his glass. "Of course. We needed the publicity, so we invited every press outlet within arm's reach. Why?"

Hachiman pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a low groan. "I think I just shot myself in the foot. Big time."

That was enough to pull everyone's focus. Yukino, seated beside him, turned her gaze toward him, her expression subtly questioning.

Ryota lowered his drink, leaning forward slightly, and even Shizuka, who had been mid-sip, paused to glance over her glass.

Ryota broke the silence, a smirk threatening to form. "What did you do this time?"

Hachiman sighed again, the kind of exasperated sound someone makes when resigning themselves to inevitable doom. "How exactly am I supposed to show up at school tomorrow? Everyone's going to see this. It's going to be a massive pain.""

Yukino, seated beside him with her usual poise, gave him a sidelong glance. "If you are going to sulk, at least find a way to make it productive."

"Productive sulking? That's new." Hachiman muttered, though a faint smirk tugged at his lips.

Before she could respond, a voice from the stage cut through their conversation. Jim, the evening's host, had stepped up with a microphone in hand, his tone carrying the easy confidence of someone used to corralling tired crowds.

At the center of the small stage stood a glass bowl, its surface refracting the dim light like a forgotten centerpiece. Inside were folded slips of paper, each bearing a name.

Jim explained the rules quickly - if your name was drawn, you could either walk up to the stage or let him bring the mic to you.

The idea was to share something - anything, really.

A story, a quick quip, maybe even a complaint about the vending machines. It didn't matter as long as you participated.

For the most part, the employees played along enthusiastically, one name leading to the next in a cycle of laughter and applause.

The group at the table paid only partial attention, their conversation interspersed with occasional glances toward the stage.

It wasn't until one of the participants - a member of the testing team - stepped up and drew a new slip that the atmosphere shifted slightly.

The tester unfolded the paper, squinting for a second before calling out. "Hikigaya Hachiman."

There was a brief ripple through the room as heads turned toward their table.

Jim, standing on the stage, raised his brows and scanned the crowd before locking eyes with Hachiman.

The host's grip on the mic tightened slightly, clearly prepared to walk over and spare the reluctant co-director from having to stand up.

But Hachiman did something no one quite expected.

He pushed back his chair deliberately, the soft scrape of its legs catching in the quiet. Standing up, he glanced at his companions with an air of casual inevitability.

"I will be back in a minute." He said flatly, as though it were the most mundane thing in the world.

The group exchanged startled glances.

Ryota blinked in disbelief.

Yukino tilted her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her composed expression.

Even Shizuka looked momentarily intrigued, her lips curving into a faint smirk.

Before anyone could say a word to stop him, Hachiman was already walking toward the stage.

His steps were slow, almost deliberate, as if he had already made peace with whatever was coming.

The confident air he wore didn't match the usual aloofness - it was more like the kind of resignation someone adopts when they know exactly what they are getting into.

His fellow team members murmured in surprise, but soon they started with cheers of shouts, watching the usually low-profile Hachiman make his way to the spotlight.

Jim stepped aside, handing over the mic with an encouraging nod.

All eyes were on Hachiman now.

Hachiman took the mic, his grip loose and his expression unreadable.

He stood there for a moment, scanning the room, his eyes settling briefly on Yukino, who returned his gaze with quiet curiosity.

He sighed, leaning slightly on the mic stand. "Right.. Remind me why I got up here again? I could've just stayed in my seat and avoided all this."

The room chuckled, a few people exchanging knowing looks. Hachiman's dry tone was already setting the stage.

"Anyway, I guess I am supposed to say something insightful or entertaining. But let's face it, I am not exactly known for being either of those things."

Another ripple of laughter moved through the crowd. The room was hooked, their quiet anticipation a sign that Hachiman had managed to hold their attention despite himself.

He shifted his weight, glancing at the glass bowl of slips as if it had personally wronged him.

"When I first got involved in this project, I didn't think much of it. I figured, 'It's just another game, right? Blocks, pixels, building stuff - how hard could it be?' Turns out, very hard. Who knew blocks could be so complicated?"

Hachiman might have exaggerated that, because unlike many would expect, he knew what he was getting into. However, it didn't matter - because his team liked his comment and the mood lightening.

"But honestly." He continued, his tone softening slightly. "Watching this game come together - seeing all the work, the creativity, the people who made it happen - it's been... different. And by 'different,' I mean actually kind of worth it."

He paused, his gaze dropping to the stage floor for a moment before he looked up again.

"I won't pretend I am suddenly an optimist or that I have discovered the joy of teamwork or whatever. But... I will say this. Seeing people play something we helped create, and actually enjoy it? That's not bad. Not bad at all."

There was a beat of silence before the room erupted into applause, genuine and warm.

Hachiman glanced at the mic, as if debating whether to say more.

Then, with a casual shrug, he handed it back to Jim. "Alright, that's my quota of sentimentality for the decade. You are welcome."

The audience chuckled, the mood light and easy. But just as he turned to leave the stage, Jim stopped him with an upraised hand.

"Hold up, Hachiman." Jim said, grinning. "You are not done yet. Take a slip from the bowl before you go."

Hachiman blinked at the glass bowl sitting innocently on the stand. He leaned slightly toward the mic, his voice carrying across the room.

"You want me to ruin someone else's good time... just like this happened to me?"

The crowd laughed again, enjoying the interplay. Hachiman tilted his head, pretending to consider.

"Then again." He muttered, his tone soft but audible enough for everyone. "This wasn't half as bad as I thought it would be."

He reached into the bowl, fishing out a folded slip of paper. Holding it up between his fingers, he paused dramatically, looking out at the room. "Let's see who the next victim is, shall we?"

The tension in the air was palpable, everyone holding their breath, eyes glued to him, waiting for the name.

"Ryota… Arigoro…"

And just like that, Hachiman did one over Ryota again.

By now, all the people in this room know his full name…

…and connecting the dots was easy.

Tomorrow's headline has already decided Ryota - the next chairman of Orgo group.

The room erupted into cheers again, the earlier silence swallowed by excitement.

Meanwhile, Ryota's face twitched.

His expression was unreadable at first, but there was a flicker of something. A slight narrowing of his eyes, a barely-there frown. It wasn't anger, but the awkwardness was palpable.

He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

Hachiman stood on stage, arms raised in mock surrender.

With a deep breath, Ryota finally stood up, making his way toward the stage.

Hachiman, in contrast, casually strolled down the steps, passing the mic to him as they crossed paths.

As he did, Hachiman subtly slid the slip of paper he had just pulled from the bowl into Ryota's hand.

Ryota's gaze dropped to the slip, and his brows shot up. The name on the paper wasn't his.

"You bastard… Hachiman." He muttered under his breath as the room erupted in cheers for him.

Hachiman clicked his tongue, caught red-handed.

"It was a slip of the tongue. My bad." He didn't bother waiting for a response, just walked off.

Ryota let out an exasperated sigh. "How can someone be this bad at reading Japanese? Who was your teacher, you idiot."

Hachiman turned around and raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to anger that person too? I don't think that will end well."

Ryota shot a quick glance at Shizuka, her sharp eyes already fixed on him.

"…Well, it wouldn't exactly be the teacher's fault if the student turned out like this." He corrected himself quickly, half-grinning.

.

….

[To be continued…]

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