20. First address the question of existence, then concern yourself with quality.

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Orino Tsukasa watched as Orizuki Kurozaki walked away, leaving behind footprints warm against the redwood floorboards that gradually faded. He stared at the pure white business card resting in his palm.

In Japan, where business cards are exchanged widely, no fewer than ten to twenty million cards change hands daily. If not made from recycled paper, the annual waste from discarded cards could nearly fill Tokyo Bay.

But that was irrelevant now.

What mattered was that the stage had fallen silent, the player had exited in defeat, having gained no reward.

Without a doubt.

Orizuki Kurozaki was a high-class green tea.

Her methods—subtle, profound, and nuanced—were rare even in Orino Tsukasa’s lifetime. She was a master of the tea art.

First, she deliberately initiated contact, creating physical closeness and an ambiguous atmosphere. Then, at the crucial moment, when no advantage could be taken, she explained the reason, choosing to retreat entirely under the pretense of testing herself for Suzuka Ryomiya, thereby seizing the initiative and controlling her own mindset.

Had it been someone else, perhaps out of a desire to keep things from Suzuka Ryomiya or unwillingness to lose face before such a beautiful and intelligent woman, a hurried explanation might have ensued.

But Orino Tsukasa did not.

It was not due to lack of desire.

Rather, he did not become unsettled or anxious merely because a few trees were missing from his forest.

Suzuka Ryomiya was indeed beautiful, her striking contrast between inner self and outward appearance enough to awaken every man’s urge to conquer. Yet Orino Tsukasa maintained his initial rationality and clarity, recognizing her as a ticking time bomb—while short-term gains might be great, long-term they were not worthwhile.

Her close friend was the same.

Orino Tsukasa did not consider himself particularly clever.

On the contrary, he was ordinary, neither possessing extraordinary talent nor the cunning to manipulate hearts.

But he had his advantage.

His “Malice List.”

Since he possessed the ability to see through human nature and adapt to circumstances for gain or avoidance of harm, as long as Orino Tsukasa could control his greed and keep his reason, he already held an invincible position in matters of romantic engagement.

Moreover, he followed one principle:

First, resolve the question of existence.

Then, address quality.

With a bright path ahead, he had no need to endure hardship unnecessarily. Starting from the simple and climbing step by step, he could achieve what he desired. So after acquiring the “Malice List,” he gave himself four words:

“Stay steady, don’t be greedy.”

A woman like Orizuki Kurozaki, deeply scheming and calculating, was too difficult to conquer; her malice was hard to fulfill, beyond his current reach.

Perhaps he would challenge her in the future.

But now was definitely not the time.

Orino Tsukasa gathered his thoughts, opened the drawer beneath the tea table, tossed the business card inside, then stood and glanced at the darkening sky outside. Feeling somewhat hungry, he ordered takeout on his phone.

Japan had delivery apps too, and there was almost no worry about hidden, unsanitary alleyway food stalls.

He ordered a meal worth over 60,000 yen, adding extra for priority delivery to preserve taste and temperature as much as possible. After all, he was not short of money now; there was no reason to compromise his quality of life.

Besides, he planned to move.

Money in hand was just paper.

Spending it was its true purpose.

Even if earning it wasn’t as effortless as the wind blowing, Orino Tsukasa refused to be a slave to money. Enhancing his quality of life was paramount.

Nearly half an hour later, the delivery arrived.

Night had fully fallen.

The dark green ginkgo leaves swayed in the breeze, illuminated faintly by the amber glow of street lamps. Black clouds overhead suddenly brightened, emitting a radiant, glass-like sheen, followed by a rumbling sound.

Japan’s summer festival in July and August featured fireworks displays; these were likely test launches, quite beautiful.

Orino Tsukasa watched a few bursts before they faded into silence, then turned his thoughts back to the billion-yen investment and the use of the Malice List.

“Ring ring ring—”

His phone screen lit up suddenly.

The contact name appeared.

Orino Tsukasa glanced, briefly startled, then set down his chopsticks and answered: “...Mother...”

“Tsukasa, are you resting?” came a cautious female voice through the receiver.

Hearing that voice, an image instantly came to Orino Tsukasa’s mind—a short, thin woman, worn pale clothes never changed, speaking gently and patiently, a middle-aged mother.

She was the mother of this body.

Married to his father right after high school, with little education but a gentle temper and easy manner.

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Currently running a convenience store in their rural hometown.

He recalled that after his father’s death, his mother called more frequently, but during his university years, busy with studies and preparing to start a business, and later after his entrepreneurial failure, he became silent and withdrew, rarely visiting or calling home. His mother seemed aware of his change in character, thus always spoke cautiously on the phone, as if fearing to upset him.

Therefore, despite living nearby in Yamanashi Prefecture, she seldom visited, not wanting to disturb him.

Orino Tsukasa sighed with mixed feelings at the thought, then pushed those memories aside and answered as gently as he could, “Not yet.”

“I see. How’s your health? Feeling ill at all?” his mother asked with concern.

“No, I’m fine. How about you?”

“Oh, I’m doing well!”

“I remember your right leg had synovitis before. The rainy season isn’t over yet, and the forecast says Yamanashi will have rain in the coming days, so try to rest more and let the staff handle some of the work.”

He suddenly thought of his mother’s right leg.

“That won’t do. The girls working for me get tired doing heavy labor,” she said cheerfully, glad he cared.

“You could pay them more, or hire a high school boy.”

“That would increase costs.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“That won’t do. Only a mother gives money to her son.”

“But I’ve grown up.”

“Does growing up mean your mother can’t give you money anymore?”

“I don’t need it for now.”

“When you do, just tell me.”

“I will.”

Sensing his gentle tone and willingness to chat, his mother relaxed considerably, her words becoming more frequent and warm.

Though separated by the phone, Orino Tsukasa could feel the strong maternal love.

His emotions were complicated, but he accepted this special affection, embracing it. After a pause, he called softly, “Mom.”

The voice on the other end paused briefly, then responded in a tender, watery tone, “Tsukasa, what is it?”

“This afternoon, I transferred five million yen to your account. Since you don’t use mobile banking, you probably didn’t get any messages or emails, but it should be there.”

“Ah?”

“I’ve been earning money lately, through proper channels. Please don’t worry—I haven’t done anything illegal. I also quit my government job to focus on another work. If you want, I can bring you to Tokyo next week. We can live together in a big house. I’ll take you wherever you want to eat. How does that sound?”

“Well… you… I…”

Clearly, his mother was momentarily overwhelmed by this news.

Orino Tsukasa waited patiently.

No matter what, Chizuru Fujitani was the mother of this body; he’d never considered denying her. Since he had accepted this world and this body, he should treat those who mattered well.

About half a minute later, his mother seemed to have recovered.

She neither questioned nor worried, but exhaled gently and teased, “Going to Tokyo won’t do. Your future wife would dislike having an old lady around.”

“I won’t marry someone like that then.”

“Besides, you’re not old.”

“That’s not your decision. If you truly fall for a girl, you’d dismiss all prejudices.”

“That’s why I want you to be careful.”

“Well, it’s good here in the countryside. If I moved to Tokyo, you’d be lonely going to work alone all day. Here, I get to gossip with Aunt Kyoko and the others.”

Though soft-spoken, his mother’s voice held firm resolve.

“Alright, even if you don’t settle here, you should at least come see Tokyo.”

“What’s there to see? Just grand buildings and many people. Tsukasa, can you come home soon? The peaches in the western mountains are nearly ripe.”

She hummed softly on the phone.

“I’ll come back soon.”

“Good… good…”

Hearing his mother’s joyful voice, Orino Tsukasa pictured rows of peach trees, the hills blanketed in pink blossoms—beautiful beyond words.

Carrying a bamboo basket, tiptoeing to pick peaches.

If he found a mountain spring, he could wash them and eat right there, the coolness refreshing.

They talked for a long time.

Though it was their first call, under that undeniable maternal love, Orino Tsukasa felt no strangeness. Instead, in this cold, unfamiliar world he’d recently entered, he found a precious care he deeply treasured.

Call it stolen, call it claimed—she was now his mother, and he her son.

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Amidst this warm, familial atmosphere, the call stretched over half an hour until his mother suddenly shifted the subject.

“Oh! I almost forgot the main point!”

“What is it?”

“Well… it’s a bit embarrassing.”

“There’s no need for that between mother and son. Just tell me.”

His mother hesitated, but the relaxed mood encouraged her to continue.

“It’s like this: I have a friend named Yuko Shimizu, a good friend from high school. She even held you when you were a baby. We’ve kept in touch over the years. Back then, you… you borrowed money from her once. She’s a good person, but recently she’s run into some trouble in Tokyo. I called to see if you might be able to help.”

Orino Tsukasa paused thoughtfully, neither refusing nor immediately agreeing, then asked, “What kind of trouble is Auntie Shimizu in?”

“I’m not sure. It seems a government official is giving her a hard time, something business-related. Since you were a civil servant too, I thought maybe you knew someone who could mediate…”

She quickly added, “But since you quit, you probably can’t do much. Never mind, I didn’t promise her anything.”

Chizuru Fujitani didn’t want to burden her son.

Especially since she hadn’t yet digested the fact that he’d transferred five million yen to her earlier.

To her, earning that much money was no easy feat. Watching TV dramas about workplace elites, though glamorous, showed endless scheming and exhaustion. She guessed her son’s life must be similar.

Orino Tsukasa was unsurprised by his mother’s tone but, knowing that this stranger had lent money to his original self, thought for a moment before saying, “Please give me Auntie Shimizu’s number.”

Borrowing and repaying money was difficult.

Simply put, those who lend you money are not always kind, but those who refuse are definitely unkind.

He owed gratitude.

After all, this karma fell upon him.

Of course, if he genuinely couldn’t help, he wouldn’t pretend. He hadn’t yet amassed enough wealth for his status to change significantly, and the Tokyo Metropolitan Assembly member award he won hadn’t officially taken effect.

But whatever the case, he would do what must be done.

Before his mother could reply, his thoughts raced and he decided on his words:

“I may not be able to help, but I might. I’ll ask first. After all, she helped me before, so if there’s a chance, I should repay the kindness.”

“…Alright then. Don’t push yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

After a few more words, promising to return home this month and advising her to hire a part-time high school boy, he ended the call.

His mother gave him the phone number.

It was barely eight o’clock; Tokyo’s nightlife was just beginning.

A man of action, Orino Tsukasa preferred swift execution to avoid mental burdens.

Since there was something to be done, he acted without delay.

Ginza’s host clubs were likely not yet open; Kabukicho was probably just stirring to life.

He dialed the number his mother gave him to inquire about her situation and get a clearer picture.

But the call went unanswered for a long time.

The dial tone sounded for quite a while until just before the automatic hang-up, someone finally picked up.

“Hello? Is this Auntie Shimizu?”

“Yes, who… who is this?”

From the first words, Orino Tsukasa immediately sensed she was drunk—more than just slightly, her speech slurred and breath ragged.

Yet since she answered, she still retained basic coherence, and having made the call, he wasn’t about to hang up.

Recalling his mother’s description, he knew Yuko Shimizu once ran a small electrical appliance company. Answering calls at this hour could be normal. She seemed an entrepreneurial woman, likely a strong type, as Japanese women often had to be tough in the workplace; drinking was part of it. Realizing this, he admitted the timing was not ideal.

Still, he didn’t hesitate, enunciating clearly: “Sorry to bother you. I’m Orino Tsukasa, Chizuru Fujitani’s son. Mom said you’re in Tokyo and recently having some trouble. I wanted to see if I could help.”

“Tsukasa… huh… Tsubaki-san?” Her voice was fuzzy and accompanied by hiccups, but luckily she remembered him.

Whether genuinely recalling or just trying to placate him, Yuko Shimizu’s voice brightened with recognition: “Oh! You’re… uh… you’re little Tsukasa!”

Then she faltered, trailing off:

“Sorry, auntie’s had a bit too much to drink, not thinking clearly, but it’s okay, I’m fine, really… nothing… nothing at all…”

“No… no need…”

“I’ll treat you… I’ll treat you…”

Before she could finish, the line went dead.

Not sure if she hung up or the phone died, Orino Tsukasa decided to call again tomorrow. There was no point discussing matters while she was intoxicated. Since his mother had entrusted this to him, he had to find out what was really going on.