Chapter 9: Boss Battle

The soft hum of electronics filled Megumin's private office. She sat behind her imposing desk, fingers dancing across multiple holographic displays as she juggled reports, projections, and the occasional urgent message from higher-ups—the very model of corporate efficiency.

But there was a glint in her eye, a barely suppressed smile tugging at the corner of her mouth that hinted at something more. For in this moment, as she deftly manoeuvred through the labyrinth of data before her, Megumin felt the old thrill of battle.

"Hah! You thought you could hide from me, didn't you?" she muttered, zeroing in on a discrepancy in the quarterly projections. "But my all-seeing eye for detail is unparalleled! Tremble before my analytical prowess!"

She caught herself mid-dramatic gesture, hand raised as if to cast a spell that would never come. A quick glance confirmed no one had witnessed her momentary lapse. Megumin cleared her throat, straightening her crisp white shirt and adjusting her dark red tie. She was a professional now, after all. The youngest department head in company history and a rising star, to be precise.

A gentle chime from her neural interface interrupted her thoughts. The daily employee productivity report materialised before her eyes, a sea of green indicators with one glaring exception.

"Suzuki Satoru," Megumin murmured, frowning at the yellow warning beside his name. "Just what's going on with you?"

She pulled up his file, scanning the impeccable record of one of her most reliable team members, until recently. Suzuki had always been a model employee: diligent, efficient, and refreshingly drama-free. He arrived at the office on time, finished his work, and left—nothing more, nothing less.

Megumin's frown deepened as she reviewed the past week's data. His immediate supervisor noted a few missed deadlines, uncharacteristic errors in his reports, a general air of distraction.

While she wasn't exactly best buddies with every analyst that worked for her, she knew Suzuki well enough that his recent behaviour was unlike him.

For a moment, Megumin considered simply sending a stern message. That's what was expected of someone in her position, after all. But something held her back. A memory, perhaps, of a time when she had been lost and struggling when a single act had made all the difference.

Her eyes drifted to a small cactus, a gift from Hana, which sat proudly on the corner of her desk—a touch of life amidst the sea of monitors and datapads.

"Hana," Megumin muttered, a rueful smile on her face. "Still giving me trouble after all this time."

Decision made, Megumin opened a direct communication channel to Suzuki's workstation.

"Suzuki-san, please report to my office. We have matters to discuss."

As she waited for Suzuki's arrival, Megumin found herself fidgeting with nervous energy. It had been a while since she'd voluntarily called a one-on-one meeting like this. Most of her interactions these days were filtered through layers of management and conducted in the sterile environment of vidcons. It wouldn't have been surprising if the company could run itself completely without the need for human interaction.

"Get it together," she chided herself. "You've faced down demon kings and corporate boards. Surely you can handle one depressed salaryman."

A soft knock at the door jolted her from her thoughts.

"Enter," Megumin called out, schooling her features into what she hoped was an expression of calm authority.

Suzuki Satoru stepped into the office, his usual neat appearance slightly rumpled. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and there was a slump to his shoulders that hadn't been there before.

"You wanted to see me, Megumin-sama?" Suzuki asked, his voice carefully neutral.

Megumin nodded, gesturing for him to take a seat. "Indeed, Suzuki-san. There are matters we need to discuss."

As Suzuki settled into the chair across from her, Megumin found herself at a loss for words. How exactly did one broach the subject of personal problems in a professional setting? She briefly considered summoning an explosion for dramatic effect before discarding the idea. Old habits died hard, but they did eventually die.

"Is everything alright?" Suzuki ventured, breaking the awkward silence.

Megumin cleared her throat. "That's precisely what I wanted to ask you, Suzuki-san. Your performance lately has been concerning."

Suzuki's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of panic crossing his features. "I, I apologize if my work has been unsatisfactory. I'll redouble my efforts immediately."

"No, no, that's not what I—" Megumin cut herself off, taking a deep breath. This wasn't going at all how she'd planned. She needed to change tactics.

"Suzuki-san," she began again, her tone softer this time. "I'm not here to reprimand you. I'm simply concerned. You've always been one of our most reliable team members. But lately, it seems like something's been weighing on you. I wanted to check if everything was alright."

Suzuki blinked, clearly caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "I… appreciate your concern, Megumin-sama. But I assure you, everything is fine. Just a bit of trouble sleeping, that's all."

Megumin leaned forward, her gaze intense. "Suzuki-san, in my time as a seasoned advent—as a manager, I've learned to recognize when someone is carrying a burden. Whatever it is, I want you to know that you can speak freely here. This conversation will remain between us."

For a moment, something flickered in Suzuki's eyes—a deep sadness that resonated with Megumin more than she cared to admit. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by a polite mask of professionalism.

"Thank you, Megumin-sama. But really, there's nothing to worry about. I've just been rather preoccupied with some personal matters. It won't affect my work going forward."

Megumin frowned. She didn't buy it for a second. Time for a more direct approach.

"Suzuki-san," she said, her voice taking on a commanding tone that would have made Darkness proud, "as your superior, I order you to tell me what's troubling you! Speak now, or face the wrath of HR!"

Suzuki's eyes widened in alarm. "Megumin-sama, I really don't think—"

"No excuses!" Megumin declared, rising to her feet in a gesture of dramatic emphasis. "I, Megumin, vanquisher of inefficiency, demand to know what foul demon plagues your productivity!"

A moment of silence followed. Suzuki blinked rapidly, as if trying to process what he'd just witnessed. Suzuki had heard rumors, but experiencing it firsthand was different.

Throughout the company, Megumin's eccentricity was a known quantity. Her dramatic outbursts and unconventional methods were tolerated—even grudgingly respected—because they somehow produced results. It was an open secret that this uniqueness had contributed to her rapid rise, though few understood exactly how or why.

He realised this was a boss battle he wouldn't win—her stubbornness to cut to the heart of a matter would win out eventually.

Suzuki cleared his throat, regaining his composure.

"I appreciate your concern, Megumin-sama. Truly. It's just, well, it's a bit embarrassing, to be honest."

Megumin leaned forward. "Do tell."

Suzuki hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "It's… it's about this game."

"A game?" Megumin echoed, her eyebrows rising. Her mind raced through possibilities. Some sort of elaborate team-building exercise gone wrong? Did he have a complaint that he needed to file?

"Yes," Suzuki continued. "I've been playing it for over a decade now, and well… they recently announced it's shutting down soon."

Megumin blinked, the gravity of the situation not quite registering. "Shutting down? You mean, like, an online game?"

Suzuki nodded, his expression pained. "Exactly. It's… it's been a big part of my life. I know it sounds silly, but—"

"Ah." Megumin interrupted, her corporate persona slipping for a moment. "Suzuki-san, you're telling me that your recent performance issues are due to a game shutting down?"

Suzuki flinched, realising how it sounded. "When you put it that way, it does seem rather unprofessional."

Megumin leaned back in her chair, fighting the urge to laugh or cry—she wasn't quite sure which. Here she was, worried about corporate team-building or personal tragedy, and it turned out to be about a game. A game that, unbeknownst to Suzuki, had once meant the world to her too.

"Suzuki-san," she said, her tone carefully neutral, "while I appreciate your honesty, I'm not sure how to respond to this."

"I understand," Suzuki said quickly. "I'll do better, I promise. It won't affect my work again."

Megumin held up a hand, stopping him. "No, no. That's not… Look, Suzuki-san, everyone has hobbies and things that matter to them outside of work. If this game is important to you, then," she weighed her words carefully. "Have you used your annual leave yet?"

Suzuki blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Uh, not yet. I haven't taken any time off this year."

"Right," Megumin nodded, coming to a decision. "Use it. Our one glorious day of annual leave bestowed upon us by the higher ups. Use it to say goodbye to your game. Do whatever you need to do to get this out of your system."

"Really?" Suzuki asked. "You're not upset?"

Megumin shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "As long as it doesn't affect your work going forward, I don't see the harm. Sometimes we all need a day to process things."

The relief on Suzuki's face was almost comical. "Thank you, Megumin-sama. I really appreciate your understanding."

As Suzuki turned to leave, Megumin felt a twinge of something—something she had to ask.

"What is the name of this game?" Megumin asked, trying to keep her tone casual.

Suzuki hesitated, a flicker of embarrassment crossing his face. "Ah, it's quite old at this point. It's called—"

Just then, a loud chime from Megumin's neural interface interrupted them. An urgent message from the CEO flashed across her vision, demanding immediate attention.

"I'm sorry, Suzuki-san," Megumin said, genuinely annoyed at the interruption. "It seems I have an urgent matter to attend to. We'll have to continue this another time."

Suzuki nodded, looking almost relieved. "Of course, Megumin-sama. Thank you again for your understanding. I'll see you tomorrow."

As the door closed behind him, Megumin let out a frustrated groan. She quickly dealt with the CEO's message, a minor issue that hardly qualified as 'urgent', and found herself staring at the closed door, lost in thought.

Megumin slumped in her chair, letting out a long sigh. "A game," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "Maybe I would've turned out like that if you never saved me."

She turned back to her work, trying to focus on the presentation before her. But her mind kept drifting, wondering what game could have possibly captured Suzuki's heart so thoroughly. It couldn't be… No, that would be too much of a coincidence.

Wouldn't it?

A notification from her neural interface interrupted her reverie. Megumin opened it absently, expecting another corporate memo or meeting request.

What she saw instead caused her to freeze.

[From: Yggdrasil Development Team]

[Subject: A Special Invitation]

[Greetings, Crimson Demon!

We hope this message finds you well. As one of our most valued players, we would like to extend a personal invitation to visit our development headquarters for a very special surprise. Your contributions to Yggdrasil have not been forgotten, and we believe you'll find what we have to show you most intriguing.

Please respond to confirm your attendance. We eagerly await your reply.

May your explosions be ever glorious,

The Yggdrasil Team]

Megumin stared at the message, as her mind reeled. How had they found her? She'd severed all ties with that world. And yet…

Her finger hovered over the delete button. It would be so easy to erase this reminder of her past, to continue down the path she'd chosen. There was no time for games or any place for fantasy in the life she'd built.

But then the image of Suzuki came to mind. Here was a man slightly older than her, with responsibilities and a career, who still found joy in his game.

A wry smile tugged at her lips. "If one of my underlings still spends their time slacking off and enjoying games," she mused, "surely the great Megumin-sama could manage it too."

Hopefully, the trip wouldn't cost her that one precious day of annual leave she'd always saved for the company's yearly 'Synergy and Wellness Day.'

Megumin quickly typed out a response.

[The Crimson Demon shall return!]