Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious

Chapter 101: Chapter 22

Fujiwara Touka sat nervously on a sleek, uncomfortable leather chair, her gaze darting around the luxurious, minimalist office.

The space was immense, featuring floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a sweeping, indifferent view of the city.

Everything in the room—from the chrome accents to the imported marble desk—screamed power and exorbitant wealth.

Touka fidgeted, completely out of her element and desperately trying to figure out what she had done wrong.

Earlier that morning, just as she was about to head to school, several imposing men in immaculate black suits had silently blocked her path.

They hadn’t been aggressive, but their presence was utterly intimidating.

“We ask you to come with us, Fujiwara-san,” one of them had stated.

Touka, ever the pragmatist, had initially refused, even reaching for her phone, intending to call the police.

That’s when the man produced a pristine employee ID card, bearing a crest she didn’t recognize but instantly registered as powerful.

“We are employees of the Kageyama Family,” the man explained. “Our boss, Kageyama Hakari, the young master Seijirou’s mother, wishes to meet you.”

Touka paused.

Seijirou was a kind person beneath his delinquent facade, surely his mother must also be a good person, right?

Operating under this optimistic, if naive, assumption, she had relented and followed them.

And now, here she was.

She looked at the ornate clock hanging on the wall: she had been waiting for twenty minutes exactly. She wondered if she was forgotten, or if the Kageyama matriarch was simply busy.

Just then, the heavy, soundproof door of the office opened.

Startled, Touka immediately sprang to her feet, executed a deep, ninety-degree bow, and greeted the person who entered without even glancing at their face.

Then, a soft, feminine chuckle, rich with controlled amusement, sounded in the room.

Touka slowly looked up and gasped softly.

Standing there was an incredibly beautiful woman with long, perfectly styled ash-blonde hair, striking red eyes that seemed to absorb the light, and black-rimmed glasses that added a layer of severe intelligence to her look.

She was impeccably dressed in a tailored business suit that radiated silent authority.

Touka immediately thought: She looks so much like Seijirou, so polished and mature! She must be his mother!

The woman glided forward, her movements elegant and graceful.

“Please forgive my delay. Did you get bored waiting here, Miss Fujiwara Touka?”

Touka shook her head quickly, slightly flustered by the woman’s beauty and aura. “No, no. Not at all, ma’am.”

The woman nodded, moving to the immense desk and settling herself on the high-backed chair.

She extended a hand. “Please. I am Kageyama Hakari.”

Touka, already incredibly flustered, shook her hand before she quickly introduced herself and bowed again.

“F-Fujiwara Touka, Ma’am!”

Hakari motioned for her to sit, and Touka carefully lowered herself back onto the chair. She then took out a bunch of files and papers, observing them.

Finally, she put the papers down and looked directly at Touka, her red eyes boring into her intensely.

“I have done my due diligence on all the young women who orbit my son,” Hakari began, her voice calm and devoid of judgment, yet utterly cold. “Every girl has a clear, understandable reason to stick with him.”

She started ticking off the names on her fingers, though she never looked back at the papers. “For Yukina and Emi, he was the reason why they ’broke out of their shell’ and gained freedom. Tachibana Rei was saved by him and Suzune. Haruka was a gift I placed by his side. Kobayashi Rindou was also saved by him from a gang ambush. And Suzune… Suzune is madly in love with him, a very simple, old-fashioned reason.”

Hakari put her hands flat on the desk and smiled at Touka. It was a perfect, practiced smile that held absolutely no warmth or emotion—a perfect, chilling imitation of human kindness.

“Only you, Fujiwara Touka, have no easily traceable, self-serving reason to stick with him, yet you are always in his circle, quietly supporting him.”

Hakari leaned forward, and Touka couldn’t help but shiver under the intensity of the gaze.

Then, her voice dropped to a low, chilling whisper. “Normally, I am far too lazy to care about your motivations, but now that Seijirou has suddenly put you in charge of this new entertainment establishment—a venture I must now oversee to ensure its profitability—I have to interfere.”

“Now tell me, Fujiwara Touka,” Hakari demanded, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What are you to my son? What are you after, really?”

Touka hesitated, her mind racing for a satisfactory answer, but in the end, she decided to just be honest and tell the truth.

“Umm…” Touka stammered, before slowly and sincerely answering. “I… I think Kageyama-kun is a truly good person. And, and I want to help him.”

Hakari was stunned, her perfect, practiced smile actually faltered for a fraction of a second.

She knew, despite her fierce maternal love for her son, that Seijirou was far from being a good person. He was a manipulative, arrogant delinquent—one could even say a true scum of the earth.

A good person, really?

Touka, encouraged by the momentary break in Hakari’s intimidating composure, continued, explaining her deep-seated feeling. “When I first saw Kageyama-kun, I had an overwhelming, strange feeling—like I already knew him for a long time, from somewhere else. That despite his tough exterior and rough manners, he is genuinely kind at his core. And as I got closer to him, as I spent more time with him, I had always thought… Ah, I want to stay by his side. I want to help him achieve his dreams. That’s all.”

Hakari silently studied Touka intensely, her red eyes clinically searching for any flicker of deception.

She allowed the silence to stretch, a subtle pressure tactic.

Touka’s sincerity, however, seemed to bypass Hakari’s usual cynical filters.

The idea of anyone viewing her ruthless, ambitious son as simply a “good person” was a data point Hakari couldn’t easily dismiss.

Finally, as if satisfied with the authenticity of the emotional motivation, she gave a slow nod.

“Alright,” Hakari said, her expression shifting back to cool professionalism.

She reached into a nearby drawer, pulled out a stack of financial and architectural schematics nearly two inches thick, and handed it to Touka.

Touka was momentarily confused by the sudden change of topic, but she immediately and carefully took the papers.

“Seijirou must be confident in your skills to put you in charge of his establishment, especially one that requires such rapid expansion,” Hakari stated, leaning back into her chair. “Now, I want you to show me how good you are. That stack contains the preliminary budget, construction schedule, and projected first-quarter earnings report for the initial Risa Street Entertainment Building and the blueprints for the planned expansion model. Analyze it.”

Touka nodded, placing the papers flat on the sleek desk.

She leaned over them, her long bangs falling forward, obscuring her eyes.

At this moment, the timid girl seemed to vanish entirely, replaced by a focused, intense business expert.

She began to read, her gaze sweeping across complex columns of numbers, cost projections, and legal jargon with astonishing speed.

Hakari remained silent, patiently waiting. She expected at least an hour, if not two, for a proper read-through of the complex documentation.

To her surprise, exactly thirty-two minutes later, Touka straightened up.

She gently placed the stack down, her expression now stern and serious. Her eyes, usually soft and hidden, were now completely exposed and sharp—the look of a focused analyst.

It was as if her previous shyness and timidness had been merely an illusion.

Hakari raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine interest in her red eyes. “Finished already, Fujiwara Touka? That includes the projected five-year growth model, you know.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Touka replied confidently.

Hakari narrowed her eyes, “Tell me what you think.”

Touka nodded as she then launched into her analysis, speaking with a clear, rapid-fire precision that was the hallmark of a financial prodigy.

“I have identified several immediate areas of concern, particularly related to the operational efficiency and capital expenditure,” she began, using a finger to tap the first document.

“The initial budget for the Risa Street building fit-out allocates 18% of the total capital to non-essential aesthetic elements, specifically imported interior marble and high-end security system hardware. While security is crucial, the chosen systems are vastly overpowered for initial needs.”

Hakari nodded, she had already thought of that too. But since this was just the initial, having many mistakes is normal.

“I suggest we downgrade the security system model to a Tier-2 standard, which still provides adequate coverage and cuts costs by 12 million yen. This capital should be reallocated to accelerating the permit acquisition process, which is currently flagged as the largest potential delay.”

Hakari hummed. However, with her authority, she can save even more money, but she was already satisfied with Touka’s solution.

“The proposed staffing model for the first month is inefficient. It budgets for three full-time security guards per shift (nine total) and four managers. Given the size of the initial building, this is redundant. The optimal ratio is two experienced guards and one manager per shift.”

Hakari nodded.

“I suggest we reduce the security staff by one guard per shift, cutting salary costs by 4.5 Million annually. Furthermore, by cross-training the initial three managers in marketing, we can eliminate the need for an external consulting fee budgeted at 2.5 Million.”

Touka took a deep breath, feeling out of breath. Hakari didn’t rush her, she waited patiently with a smile on her face.

“The primary income stream is projected to be the arcade floor, but the machine acquisition plan is fundamentally flawed. It prioritizes high-cost, low-return nostalgia machines over modern, high-volume payout games.”

Hakari nodded at that. She actually knew very little about games and was planning on doing her research, but it seems there is no need for that now.

“The current plan will attract a niche audience, but not the mass high-volume traffic needed for rapid capital recovery. So I suggest we shift 70% of the allocation of the game budget to modern rhythm, fighting, and crane games—which have a higher coin-per-hour-per-square-meter metric—and only 30% to nostalgia. This will boost the projected first-quarter revenue by an estimated 15%.”

Touka moved to the blueprints for the planned nationwide expansion. “The plan to replicate the Risa Street building in five new major cities simultaneously is reckless. While it maximizes immediate market penetration, it overstretches liquid capital by 40% and introduces undue systemic risk. If any one location fails, it jeopardizes the entire expansion.”

“I suggest adapting a phased, two-year rollout strategy. Year 1 is to secure locations in only two major cities and focus on hyper-local advertising to ensure a 95% market share in their respective districts. And year two is to use the profits and stabilized models from Phase 1 to fund the remaining three locations. This reduces the initial capital risk by 25% and stabilizes the long-term financial health of the organization.”

“Finally, I noticed an absence of a centralized, secure financial management system. All transactions are logged manually before being inputted into generic software. This invites internal theft and data loss. I suggest we implement a bespoke, proprietary financial API. I have preliminary design concepts that, while costing around a million to develop, would automate inventory, track employee metrics, and provide real-time sales data, increasing overall operational efficiency by 20%.”

Touka leaned back, her cheeks slightly flushed, the energy of the detailed analysis still vibrating within her. “Those are the primary errors and suggested optimizations, ma’am.”

Kageyama Hakari stared at the young woman.

Her red eyes, moments before filled with cynical appraisal, were now glinting with a rare, genuine admiration.

Touka had not only spotted every flaw she had deliberately inserted as a test, but had also proposed solutions that were strategically superior to her own initial baseline plan.

Hakari picked up the stack of papers and smiled—a true, predatory smile this time, full of satisfaction.

“Fujiwara Touka,” she said, her voice dripping with approval. “You are indeed a very, very useful asset. I think you and I are going to get along wonderfully.”