Track 2 - Cigarette

Unlocking the back door to the emergency stairs, the neon-dotted, pitch-black night outside fills my mind with the image of a starry sky.

Woah, that’s a pretty nice view.

After all, the party hall’s on the top floor of a high-class hotel. Makes sense that there'd be a good view of Tokyo’s endless nightscape.

Without needing to see the source, a familiar bitter smell fills my nose as I climb the first step of the reinforced concrete staircase. 

“Over here, handsome.”

A shadow waves at me from the upper landing.

She has long, wavy hair and a nightdress that boldly shows off her back.

The woman, whose legs peeked out from the deep side slits of her dress and was annoyingly flaunting her femininity, leans against the iron railing while smoking a cigarette.

I see. I guess this means this woman is my partner for today.

“You’re cuter than I expected. Those glasses are super tacky though.”

I stood next to her silently while she laughed coquettishly. 

The neckline of her dress was deep, showing off her ample breasts.

Every time she moved, so would her chest, and I couldn’t help but wonder if there was really someone out there that would fall for such an obvious honey trap.

But I’m sure her voice, hairstyle, and even her figure will be different the next time we meet. That’s just how this job works. 

She cheekily puts her hands on my chest.

I guess she wants to check out my body under the waiter’s uniform.

I lightly adjust the so-called “tacky” glasses and laugh.

“Well, they can see through any disguise and functionally they’re state-of-the-art, but as for how they look…yeah, they’re pretty tacky.”

Usually, the gadgets I use for work are custom-made. Earrings, rings, and other accessories are perfect for disguises.

But I’m a waiter this time, and waiters aren’t allowed to wear accessories. I didn’t have time to order anything on such short notice, so I had to wear ready-made glasses. 

Isn’t this good enough though? Even if they’re tacky, they’re fine as long as they work.

“Are you okay using tools you’re not used to? I’ll leave you hanging if things go south, you know.”

She smiles, scarlet lipstick staining her lips. 

“Oh, no worries, I would do the same.” 

The feeling’s mutual. She giggles when I say that.

There’s a tiny noise coming from her voice every few seconds.

I guess she’s using a voice changer.

“My, you’re interesting, let’s kiss.”

She uses a teasing tone, but for whatever reason, she seems serious about it.

There’s a spark of desire in the depths of her eyes.

She’s trying to use me to let off some steam before work. But I’m down as long as there’s something in it for me.

“Before that, can you spot me a cig? I don’t have any on me.”

When I reply with a grin, she spreads her arms wide as if provoking me, “Of course, help yourself.”

The movement of her dress leaves nothing to the imagination, and I can tell exactly where the cigarette box is.

A blatant display of cleavage…I appreciate the effort in trying to seduce me.

But I’m really craving a drag right now. Thinking about what I should do, I gently embrace her around her waist. The sweet smell of perfume tickles the tip of my nose. 

The smell is completely different from hers.

As I let my fingertips teasingly dance across her exposed back, I could tell she was starting to get in the mood.

But by that time, a cigarette was already dangling mockingly from my fingers. Mission accomplished. World peace achieved.

“Much appreciated.”

I put it between my lips and lean down.

Lighting my cigarette with the one she was holding between her fingers, I let her go and inhaled.

The bitter smoke fills my lungs, and after exhaling I felt completely satisfied.

“You’re really something else, but I’m glad to see you’re not half bad at your job.”

The woman seemed to lose interest in playing around with me and quickly began explaining the details of the job we’d been assigned to by the organization.

“Our target this time is Tarumae Kotaro, a big wig from the ruling party. He inherited his father’s supporters and was elected when he was 28, and has been in politics for 52 years since. He’s an old fox, the boss of the ruling party’s biggest faction. Today’s party is to celebrate his 80th birthday.”

“I see, so he’s a real big shot.”

“Big shot or not, he’s a corrupt politician and a criminal. But I’m sure most of the people here at this party are like that.”

I suppose that’s true. After all, how many rich people in this world have honest jobs?

The glittering nightscape below seems to flicker through the haze of the cigarette smoke.

There’s plenty of people who turn to crime just so they can climb to the top and look down on the average hard-working commoner.

But whatever. Who cares about other people’s lives, anyway?

“The gathered supporters and faction politicians will be secretly exchanging party ticket votes for bribes inside the venue, so your job will be to record the deals and the people involved.”

“Seems like a pretty boring job. These tacky glasses won’t even be an issue.”

I lightly lift my recording glasses.

“And the list of people in Tarumae’s faction?”

“I have it memorized. Ichito, Niwa, and Mikura are in charge of the party tickets.”

“If you already know, then be sure not to make a mistake. Tarumae is my target. He’s got a hotel suite reserved and is expecting a woman to be brought to him.”

“Ah, and that’s where you have me covered. Nice.”

“My job is pretty boring too.”

She throws her cigarette on the stairs, smothering it under her heel.

“Is the client an old man from the opposing party?”

“Nope. It’s an internal conflict this time. A request from the party’s second-in-command.”

“Oho, the plot thickens.”

Not interested though. The world of politics seems tough.

But I’m glad the woman seems to be in a good mood.

If I get along and listen to what she has to say, it’ll be like insurance in case something happens.

That being said, it seems like the spark from earlier hadn’t gone out for her. 

“So, what happened to the kiss?”

She narrows her eyes and asks me.

“Please spare me the truth serum lipstick. We can save it for after the job is done.”

Honestly though, I wouldn’t want an 80-year-old geezer’s sloppy seconds.

Still, most women will forgive me if I just smile sheepishly. 

This woman also looked annoyed for a moment, but her mood quickly did a 180.

“Well, whatever,” was written on her face as she said, “Then, I’ll leave the rest to you, Tenth.” And with that, she went back inside the hotel.

As my gaze trailed after her departing figure, I thought to myself, “Tenth, huh?”

“...I have a real name, you know. It’s 'Ten'.”¹

Well there’s no way she’d know that. She doesn’t need to know either.

It’s not like I want anyone to call me that.

Perhaps the only ones who know this name right now are me and her. 

As my mind wandered through those useless thoughts, I took a deep drag of my cigarette and blew the smoke towards the glittering neon lights.