Announcement:

I won't give names, but shoutout to the reader who suggested to actually write out this crackhead conversation. I hope all of you learn how to make a decent cup of coffee after this, since I had to delve into a rabbit hole of coffee making recipes.

Also, I hope this chapter teaches you why you should practice safe drinking.


Trigger Warning:

- alcohol abuse

- alcohol poisoning

- biochemistry (Because I have no idea what grades you got in biochem class, and some of your brains might hurt from the info dump.)

- body-shaming

- slightly crude language


When I told Daruma-san to speak utter nonsense for three minutes, I did not expect him to take me seriously.

There really is a limit to how much rubbish one should blabber.

I mean, I am not sure for how much longer I can contain my laughter.

It is amazing how much an aged person can talk.

As per our strategy, Daruma-san is using a private number to waste three minutes, and I am responding with the occasional request to have a meeting with him. Should seem easy enough. And it would, were I alone.

Dressmakers and fashion designers are gathered in a guest room to take my measurements for a new customized wardrobe. Personally, I believe that I have plenty of professional clothes already, but Hanada-sama told his butler that for my business debut, a new assortment was needed. By proxy, his butler told me. In other words, Hanada-sama intended to once more drink himself near death all day. If only you could actually die instead of hovering on the precipice between life and death … Would really save me some effort.

Speaking of alcohol, I implemented Ahearn-san's advice. Some insight from Daruma-san and a little research of my own led me to strategize to slowly assassinate Hanada-sama. The method is my favorite: poison.

First, a bit of scientific background.


Alcohol is essentially a toxin to the human body. One of the functions of the liver is to break down toxins. After a drink, the stomach begins to digest the contents, releasing alcohol into the bloodstream. Breathalyzers test for the concentration of this chemical. Remember the 0.08% law?

Well, there are many factors that influence how quickly the intoxication takes effect such as the quantity of alcohol in the drink, carbonation involved in the making of the drink, and whether the drink is consumed on a full or empty stomach. Even genetics has a factor on how much of a light-weight or heavy-weight one is.

The consistency, however, is in the process by which the toxin is removed from the body.

Two metabolic pathways exist in the liver to contend with this dilemma; both are interconnected. Since ethanol is the primary alcohol constituent in liquor, two particular enzymes have been evolutionarily designed to break it down: alcohol dehydrogenase and aldehyde dehydrogenase. Similar sounding names, I know, but do try to separate them. Alcohol dehydrogenase catabolizes ethanol into acetaldehyde intermediate, and aldehyde dehydrogenase rapidly converts the intermediate into acetate. Other pathways assist in converting acetate into carbon dioxide and water, thus excreting the alcohol from the human body.

Herein lies the biology I intend to exploit.

Alcohol dehydrogenase is a fairly efficient enzyme; it is the latter enzyme that takes more time to metabolize. Assuming that both proteins work at their individual rates regardless of outside factors, then that means the more alcohol one consumes, the more buildup there will be of toxin in the blood. The first enzyme naturally works quicker than the second, so an accumulation of acetaldehyde will occur.

Acetaldehyde is a highly toxic substance and a carcinogen.

I want to poison Hanada-sama slowly, carefully, meticulously. He must suffer every moment of his waking life without realizing it until it is too late.

Daruma-san gave me a drug that ceases function of the second metabolic pathway. Meaning that with diminishing quantities of aldehyde dehydrogenase to perform the crucial step of alcohol detoxification, Hanada-sama's body will take longer than usual to cleanse his blood. The longer the acetaldehyde will circulate. The closer his death will arrive.

The plan is quite foolproof, too. He is already a drunkard. And research shows that about half of the East Asian population lack a properly functioning aldehyde dehydrogenase.

All I have to do is apply a little of the drug to the rims of his drinking glasses every day. A small amount is very potent. Once the glasses are taken to the kitchen to inevitably be washed, traces of the substance along with liquor remnants will go down the drain, too. Hell, I'll clean them myself if need be.

I have enacted his slow death starting today.


And it is that scheme I recite to myself repeatedly to prevent myself from erupting into peals of laughter.

"Today, I will be teaching you how to make the perfect cup of black coffee," Daruma-san begins. He makes a dramatic cough. "First, purchase coffee plantations in a country with a rich, tropical climate, perfect for growing coffee beans. Brazil is the top producer, so fly to that country, arrange some meetings with the government, and buy a portion of the lands." A smile starts to tug at the corners of my lips at his exaggerations. Let's make that Colombia, since I understand Spanish and not Portuguese.

I hide it with, "Madam, I would like a meeting with your employer." Best the people around me think I am talking to the female secretary of a potential business partner.

His next sentences are even more preposterous. "Create your own company, hire some local workers, and start growing coffee trees. Remember to pay your workers decent wages and provide housing, insurance, and medical facilities to meet all their needs. Keep reasonable hours, create shifts, and offer paid vacation leaves. Happy employees lead to good work ethics and quality products."

Ten bleeding hells, this man. So extra. Though, he is not wrong about the salaries of blue-collar workers. They earn nowhere near enough to sustain a healthy livelihood. Something every country's economy could strive to improve.

"When is your boss free?" I ask. "We can arrange an appointment for then."

"Three to four years later, your coffee trees will be mature enough to produce the beans. Bright, deep red berries will appear on the branches, meaning they are ripe and ready to be harvested. Begin production and processing of the coffee beans," he continues. "Money will not be a problem for you, Selene, so create a processing plant, establish a company, buy some ships. Finally, have the coffee sent directly to your kitchen."

The dressmaker measuring my waist gives me a criticizing stare. She requests for me to stop trembling in place. After giving a brief apology, I pretend to be conversing with the secretary.

Daruma-san adds, "Here is the moment you have been waiting for! Brewing the coffee! It is a culinary art. A medium to express one's soul. The perfection of humanity!" For the sake of my poor stomach and the designer's judgment, please stop. Of all the ways my plan could backfire, I never expected it would be like this. "Roasted coffee tastes the best, so make sure that is one of the features you include in the manufacturing plant. Grind about a half cup of coffee beans. Aim for grounds about the size of coarse sugar, so the drink remains rich but not too bitter."

I speak a little loudly to alert the people around me to not become lax in their jobs because of my age. Mostly, I do it for myself. I'm not sure how longer I can restrain myself. "If there is no time tomorrow, then what about the day after tomorrow? Look, Madam, I come with an interesting proposition that your boss will be keen to hear."

"Have some hot water, funnels, and filters set aside," Daruma-san says, undeterred. "Soft or distilled water should never be used, as minerals in the water are important to enhance the flavor. Place a funnel inside the mug and a filter on top. For every liter of water, put about 60 to 70 grams of the ground coffee in the filter.

"As for the temperature of the water, the darker the roast, the lower the heat of the water. Ideally, heat the water up to 93 degrees Celsius."

The dressmaker silently asks me to raise my arms to measure chest size. Her criticism does not fade. Instead, she faintly mumbles something about me having ample breasts for my age. I narrow my gaze at her as she turns around to write the measurements on her notepad. Was that a compliment or an insult? The better question is, why are you openly remarking about that?

Suspicious, I reply over the phone, "Do not underestimate me just because on paper I am under eighteen. I am scion of the Hanada Group of Companies, and I will not tolerate any disrespect toward me." The woman's back straightens just slightly. Good. That warning was meant for you. You won't lose your job, but I will make sure that customer harassment is something that remains a permanent record on your profile.

Daruma-san breaks his monologue to inquire if something happened. When I tell him it was nothing serious, he resumes. "Now the final step: brewing the coffee. Similar to the water temperature, the lighter the roast, the longer the extraction time. Set a timer to four minutes, which is the average. Within the first thirty seconds, pour the water over the coffee grounds to wet them. Wait another thirty seconds and pour some more. Repeat until the four minutes are complete and there is no more water left.

"Congratulations! Your coffee is ready. You can add milk to your taste if you like."

If he keeps this up the next few times I call him, he will end up making a barista out of me. Makes me wonder how much time he spent just looking for a detailed recipe of such a simple drink. The three minutes allocated for this call are over. I bid farewell and tell the make-believe secretary that I will call tomorrow.

Some time later, the measurement session also ends. I thought that the designer would have learned to keep her faultfinding thoughts to herself, but she commented on everything about my figure. Large breasts, wide hips, prominent thighs, curvaceous body shape, amongst other things. It reminded me all too much of the way that men would leer at me. Regardless of the contrast in attitudes between the men and the dressmaker, the same sensation churned inside me: revulsion. Toward them and toward myself.

All enjoyment dissipated, I escort the team of fashion designers personally to their vehicles. They tell me they will ship the finished products in mid-March. About a month from now.

After watching the last of the cars leave, I return inside the manor to talk to Hanada-sama.

When I see the door to his private office is open, I sigh. Your over-consumption has made you careless, Hanada-sama. But perhaps it is for the best that he has become negligent. How else would I overhear his conversation to someone unknown?

I only hear one voice, so I figure he is on a phone call.

"Yes, you'll get what you want, and I'll get what I want," he says.

Caution overtakes me. I lean against the wall, head angled toward the small gap between the doorlock and the latch. Shouto and Sasaki-san asked me to gather proof. Big or small, relevant or irrelevant, I should try to catch as much of Hanada-sama's activities as possible. Thanks to Yotsubashi-san and Skeptic, I have an abundance of high-quality miniature cameras. Many of which I have hidden inside Hanada-sama's office.

Whatever I have to say to him can wait. I wish I could hurry toward an empty room with my laptop and watch the live recording. But since Hanada-sama is keeping strict watch over my online activity, I will have to satisfy my curiosity by eavesdropping and watching later.

I hear an audible pop. Likely the cork of another bottle of champagne. Liquid pours and sloshes against the walls of glass. He speaks again. "She has grown too confident these days. Taking her own stands, deciding what she will and will not do. It is revolting." She? By chance, is he referring to me? Intrigued, I amplify my hearing and listen more closely.

The voice on the other end of the line seems male. He responds, "For someone who cannot walk without support, she sure had guts to be rude to someone who is normal."

My eyes widen. The number of physically disabled person an average person would know is very small. I do not want to be self-centered, but the likelihood that the person in question is me is too high. Though I share a different perspective, the things Hanada-sama and this stranger have said are indeed actions I have committed.

"Oh, she was acting like a high-and-mighty *** toward you, too? Then all the more reason to remind her of her place."

I hear footsteps rounding the corridor. The butler. Instantly, I camouflage myself against the backdrop of the wall.

Hanada-sama expresses more sentiments of distaste toward this unnamed girl and pleasure at the other person's equal resentment. It bothers me that not once does he mention the name.

If he is talking about bringing someone down, then he is likely planning to commit a crime. If only I know who he is planning to target, I can help her with Shouto's and Sasaki-san's assistance. We can prevent her from getting hurt.

I can prevent myself from getting hurt …

He ends the call, leaving me with more questions than answers.

Maybe I can get some if I watch the recording.

Inside my temporary bedroom, I dial a number on the burner phone Shigaraki gave me.

The call follows through.

"Yotsubashi-san," I say, "Can we organize a rendezvous tonight?"