Shibuya.
Ota Office.
“You kid really do have some skills.” Manager Ota sat in his slightly wobbly office chair, a cigarette burning dangerously close to his fingers.
He squinted at Shin sitting across from him.
He blew out a smoke ring, reached into the drawer, and pulled out a thick envelope, tapping it against the desk.
“TBS’s producer just called.
Said even though the drama’s still shooting, your performance has been ‘far beyond expectations,’ so they’ve approved an advance on part of your pay.” Ota slid the envelope across the desk, unable to hide his surprise.
“I’ve handled plenty of newcomers.
You’re the first one who’s ever gotten those stingy TV station accountants to open their wallets early.” Shin reached out and took the envelope.
He didn’t open it right away, but the weight against his fingertips already told him the answer.
Two hundred thousand yen.
In this money-flinging bubble economy, that amount might only buy half a bottle of whiskey in Ginza or cover a round-trip taxi ride in Roppongi.
But for Shin right now, it wasn’t just money.
It was survival.
It was dignity.
“According to the contract, this was supposed to be the final payment after wrap,” Ota said, flicking ash from his cigarette.
“Thank you for going through the trouble, Ota-san.” Shin gave a small bow and tucked the envelope neatly into his inner jacket pocket.
“Act well,” Ota said, looking at this unusually steady young man.
For once his tone was serious.
“I’ve got a feeling this two hundred thousand is only the beginning.” … When he stepped out of the office, a light cold rain had started to fall.
Deep autumn Tokyo was damp and biting.
Shin tightened the thin windbreaker around himself and pressed a hand to his chest.
The corner of the envelope pressed against his ribs, but it sent a warmth he had never felt before.
Instead of heading straight back to his rundown apartment in Nerima, he turned and walked into a large electronics superstore.
The store was bright and loud.
Seiko Matsuda’s latest music video played on the wall of televisions while promotional announcements blared from every direction.
Shin went straight to the heating appliances section.
That six-tatami old apartment was freezing.
The windows leaked, the futon stayed damp, and every morning he woke up with an ice-cold nose.
These past few days he had genuinely been scared of the cold.
“Sir, looking for a fan heater?
This Mitsubishi model is the newest one — quiet, heats up fast…” The salesperson greeted him enthusiastically.
“I’ll take this one.” Shin pointed at a ceramic fan heater priced at eighteen thousand yen without the slightest hesitation.
Before, he would have hovered in the discount section for half an hour just to save a few hundred yen.
Today he didn’t even glance at the cheaper older models.
He handed over two ten-thousand-yen bills, watched the change and packaging, then walked out carrying the brand-new heater.
The rain outside didn’t feel quite as cold anymore.
Next stop was the supermarket.
It was already seven in the evening — peak time for housewives rushing to buy dinner ingredients.
Shin pushed a cart past the cheap bean sprouts and discounted chicken breast and stopped in front of the fresh meat counter.
Even during the bubble economy, wagyu was still the definition of expensive.
He picked up a pack of black-haired wagyu steak with a yellow “best before tonight” discount sticker.
Thirty percent off.
Even after the discount, that small piece of meat cost twenty-five hundred yen.
Shin stared at it for two seconds, then put it in the cart anyway.
He added a box of Hokkaido butter he normally couldn’t afford, a bag of Niigata Koshihikari rice, and a reasonably priced table red wine.
At checkout, looking at the numbers on the register, a quiet sense of satisfaction appeared in his eyes.
… Back at the apartment in Nerima.
It was still the same narrow, cramped room with the same old moldy smell.
But tonight felt different.
Shin unpacked the new heater and plugged it in.
A low hum started, and a wave of warmth quickly spread through the room.
In under ten minutes the once-chilly space was filled with heat.
He took off the heavy windbreaker and stood there in just his shirt, no longer cold.
He rolled up his sleeves and stepped into the tiny one-square-meter makeshift kitchen.
He heated the frying pan and dropped in a small piece of butter.
Sizzle.
The butter melted and released a rich, milky aroma.
He gently placed the beautifully marbled wagyu steak into the pan.
The high heat instantly sealed in the juices.
The sound of fat caramelizing echoed through the quiet room — the most beautiful sound in the world.
No complicated seasoning.
Just a little sea salt and black pepper.
Five minutes later, Shin sat at the only low table in the room.
The heater blew warm air against his legs.
In front of him sat a sizzling steak, a bowl of crystal-clear white rice, and a glass of red wine.
He picked up a piece of beef and put it in his mouth.
Rich juices mixed with the aroma of fat exploded across his tongue.
It was so tender it barely needed chewing.
Shin closed his eyes and chewed slowly.
He thought back to his previous life at Hengdian — standing in the snow for hours waiting for a single shot until his hands and feet went numb, then eating cold bento after wrap.
That memory of hunger and cold was carved deep into his bones.
And now?
The room was warm.
His stomach was warm.
His pocket was warm.
He took a sip of red wine and let out a long breath.
“This is what living feels like.” The real warmth and fullness made him feel, for the first time, that he had put down roots in this strange era.
He was no longer a drifting ghost.
He was someone who could eat because of his acting.
In that comfortable moment, a faint light suddenly flashed across his mind.
[System Prompt] [Detected: Host’s physical and mental pleasure level has risen significantly.] [Only those who understand the temperature of life can properly portray the cold in stories.] [Equip “The Songstress’s Abandoned Silver Zippo” compatibility increased to 15%.] [Unlocked passive adjustment: When you are in a relaxed state, the “melancholy” aura around you will transform into a more attractive “relaxed ease.”] Shin set down his wine glass, took the Zippo from his pocket, and turned it over in his hand a few times.
The silver body caught the warm yellow light and no longer looked quite so cold and lonely.
“Relaxed ease, huh…” He smiled and put the last piece of beef into his mouth.