Chapter 59: Volume 1, - 60: The Watch He Did Not Need
Ren sat at his low folding table in the morning light, staring at the screen of his phone.
His personal bank account held a little under a quarter of a million yen.
For a long time, a balance like that would have triggered an automatic, mechanical sequence in his brain.
His first impulse was to transfer the entire amount into the KBS corporate account. He could allocate it to marketing, put it into the payroll reserve for Nanami’s wages, or buy upgraded accounting software. ’Keep it moving,’ his instincts urged him. ’If you leave it in personal cash, you’re being careless.’
His second impulse was the exact opposite: go out and spend all of it immediately. Buy a brand-new laptop. Buy three expensive suits. Spend it all simply because no creditor had the legal right to pull it back anymore.
Ren closed his eyes, taking a slow, steadying breath.
Instead of yielding to either extreme, he tapped the transfer screen and moved exactly ¥100,000 into a separate personal savings account. In his own notebook records, he marked the entry as Emergency Reserve.
This money was not KBS working capital. It was not payroll. It was not tax reserve, and it was not growth capital. It was personal liquid cash meant to sit in dark safety, untouched and unpledged.
The act of leaving those six figures idle felt agonisingly difficult, as if he were wasting a tool. But as the transfer confirmed, a quiet sense of real, grounded control settled over him.
And after setting aside his emergency reserve, covering his upcoming rent, and keeping a buffer for daily life, he still had funds left over. More importantly, he had a long-overdue claim waiting for him in Ginza.
At two o’clock in the afternoon, Ren stepped onto the polished stone floors of a Seiko Global Brand Core Shop in Ginza.
The showroom was quiet, filled with the soft hum of air conditioning, warm spotlights, and tall glass display cases housing rows of immaculate timepieces.
Ren walked up to the main counter, pulling a formal collection voucher and his government identification card from his coat pocket. The collection voucher had already been verified through Kanzaki Fiduciary Services under the lawful estate-release arrangement.
"Good afternoon, sir," a neatly groomed sales representative said, bowing respectfully.
"Good afternoon," Ren replied, handing over the documentation. "I’m here to collect this reference."
The representative examined the paperwork, checked the reference numbers against the store’s central register, and smiled warmly. "Ah, yes, Kisaragi-sama. We have been holding this piece for you. Please, take a seat."
Ren sat at the dark wood consultation table. A few moments later, the representative returned carrying a heavy presentation box. He laid down a plush velvet tray, unboxed the watch, and placed it gently in the centre of the fabric.
It was a Seiko Presage Sharp Edged Series SARX077, its Aitetsu dial carrying the geometric Asanoha hemp-leaf pattern. The polished indices caught the overhead spotlights, glittering like fine ice against the deep blue background.
"Before you try it on, let us complete the documentation," the salesman said politely, presenting the warranty card, collection paperwork, and instruction manual. He stamped the date—6 April 2023—and recorded the official store location.
Ren watched as the man explained the care routine, his hands wrapped in white cotton gloves.
"This model houses the 6R35 automatic movement, offering a seventy-hour power reserve," the salesman explained, showing Ren how to turn the crown clockwise in its normal position to wind the movement manually. "Avoid heavy magnetic fields, such as large stereo speakers or microwave ovens, and remember that while it features ten-bar water resistance, thermal shocks from hot baths should be avoided."
"Understood," Ren said, his eyes fixated on the watch.
"May I fit the bracelet for you?"
Ren held out his left wrist. The representative used a small sizing tool to remove two steel links from the bracelet, adjusting the three-fold push-button clasp with practised precision.
"Please try it now, Kisaragi-sama."
Ren reached out and lifted the watch.
The weight of it caught him off guard. Solid, cold, and substantial. The stainless steel with Seiko’s super-hard coating felt smooth against his fingers. He slid his hand through the bracelet and clicked the clasp shut.
A crisp, satisfying snap echoed softly in the quiet room.
Ren rested his arm on the velvet tray and rotated his wrist. The light caught the sapphire crystal, shifting the dial from nearly black to a rich, luminous indigo. The second hand moved around the dial in six quick beats each second, smooth enough at a glance to seem almost fluid.
He didn’t need it.
It was purely an object of craft and beauty.
Ren stood up and walked toward the full-length mirror near the showroom counter. He pulled his dark jacket sleeve back slightly, letting the steel case rest against the cuff of his shirt.
It looked remarkably good. It gave his wrist a sharp, grounded presence, lending an air of quiet, effortless authority to his silhouette.
’People will notice this,’ he thought, a rare flare of unpolished vanity surfacing in his chest. ’Clients will see it when I hand them documents. Endo would have noticed it at QuickMart.’
He smiled, feeling no guilt whatsoever about the thought. He liked the watch. He liked how it felt, he liked how it looked, and he enjoyed the sheer, unpunished pleasure of wearing something fine simply because he wanted to.
"It fits perfectly," Ren said, turning back to the representative. "I’ll wear it out."
"A fine choice, Kisaragi-sama," the man said, bowing low as he packed the spare bracelet links, manual, and inner box into a dark paper bag. "Thank you for visiting us today."
By five o’clock, Ren was back in his Kawaguchi apartment, sitting on a cushion beside the low table with a mug of green tea.
Nanami was off today.
He leaned back against the wall, resting his left arm on his knee, letting his thumb brush across the cold, polished bevels of the watch case. He caught himself glancing down at the dial every few minutes. Not to check the time, but just to watch the sweeping movement of the second hand.
His phone buzzed on the low table.
Ren picked it up, assuming it was a delivery confirmation. Instead, a message notification sat on his lock screen.
Aoi: Good evening, Kisaragi-san. The updated asset schedule and supporting estate documents are ready. I can review them with you at my office tomorrow at two. Please confirm that still works for you.
Ren read the text twice.
Seeing her name sent a quick, unwelcome heat through his chest.
It wasn’t about the legal filing. It wasn’t about the estate documents or the administrative structure he had been managing so meticulously.
Ren stared at the screen for a second longer than the message required. That reaction had nothing to do with estate documents.
He slowly typed out his reply:
Ren: Good evening, Tachibana-san. Two o’clock works. I’ll be there.
He set the phone down and looked back at his wrist. The blue dial gleamed under the soft ambient light of his room, ticking steadily forward into the evening.