But as soon as he stood up, he recognized the person coming and immediately breathed a sigh of relief, smiling and greeting from the window, “Mr. Chandler, you’re here again?”

He hadn’t known this person for long, named Ryan Chandler. Four or five days ago, he tried to sneak into the TV station and happened to be stopped by him on duty. But this person was interesting—neither embarrassed nor angry, and instead struck up a conversation with him.

At first, he didn’t want to bother with this young man, but there was something special about him.

He looked about twenty-two or twenty-three, with slightly messy short hair, fair skin, delicate features, bright eyes, a gentle gaze, and a calm expression. He seemed to have a good temperament, but when he wasn’t smiling or talking, he inexplicably gave off a sense of hidden sharpness, not someone to be taken lightly—it was best not to shout at him.

Maybe it was just a natural aura; the security guard couldn’t say for sure, but he definitely hadn’t gotten angry and driven him away at the time.

Over the next four or five days, this Mr. Chandler came by every day, and basically got to know all the security guards on duty at the entrance. He even treated them twice at an izakaya, sharing a couple of drinks. Everyone felt he was a pretty good guy—well-spoken, very friendly, and happy to chat about the little things in a security guard’s work, especially fond of hearing TV station gossip.

Still, no matter how nice he was, they couldn’t let him in. Tokyo Broadcasting TEB was one of Japan’s four major commercial TV stations, with two major program production bases, one of which was right here at headquarters. There were about forty-seven or forty-eight studios, many of which hosted live shows. If someone barged in, it would definitely be a broadcast accident, and no one could afford that responsibility.

After greeting him, the security guard saw Ryan Chandler walking over and quickly made things clear up front. But he couldn’t put on a fierce face, so he just smiled and said, “Still can’t let you in today, Mr. Chandler, hope you don’t mind.”

He suspected Ryan Chandler was chasing a celebrity—there were plenty of people like that—but Ryan Chandler’s demeanor was so calm and composed, he didn’t really seem like the type to get starstruck and go crazy.

It was a bit puzzling.

Ryan Chandler was stopped again, but didn’t get upset. He nodded and greeted the other security guards, then smiled and said, “I won’t make things difficult for you, Mr. Parker. I just want to wait here for someone… Has Miss Murphy finished work?”

“Miss Murphy? No, her show doesn’t end until seven. Usually she can’t come out until after a quarter past seven.” This wasn’t a secret, so security guard Kenneth Parker didn’t hide it, and even asked enthusiastically, “Are you here to see her? Want me to call inside and check for you?”

He’d never figured out why Ryan Chandler kept coming by, or why he was always so interested in TV station gossip. Now at least he had a clue. Since he seemed like a good guy—a cultured person who didn’t look down on them little security guards—he figured he’d help if he could.

But Ryan Chandler knew exactly what he was doing. He’d already gathered the information he needed from these security guards, made his plan, and was ready. Now it was time to approach the person he needed a favor from—it was him asking for help, not the other way around, so it was better not to disturb her work. If they called and she refused outright, that would be awkward.

He smiled and said, “No need, Mr. Parker, I’ll just wait at the entrance.”

Once he confirmed the person he was looking for hadn’t left, he relaxed, chatted a bit more with Parker, then stood to the side of the main entrance, starting to think about what he’d say later.

Hopefully, everything would go smoothly…

It really was unlucky, crossing over to an era where even finding a job was tough. No wonder there were so many otaku and NEETs in Japan—the root of the problem was right here!

Chapter 2: It’s Definitely the Target!

Time passed slowly. In early December, it got dark early, and at some point the streetlights came on. The entrance grew busier with people coming and going.

Ryan Chandler felt it was about time, but still hadn’t seen the person he was waiting for. Feeling uneasy, he wanted to check the time, but he didn’t have a watch—he’d sold it to treat people to dinner (for information gathering)—and he didn’t have a cell phone either. At this time, cell phones had just transitioned from brick-like models to flip phones, and were extremely expensive—he couldn’t afford one.

Pagers were popular, but he didn’t have one either—poverty really is a terrible disease. Whatever you want, you just can’t have. All you can do is shed a few bitter tears.

He was about to ask the group of security guards led by Parker, but when he looked up, he saw a stylish office lady about to enter the main gate. The office lady noticed him too, stopped, stared at him in surprise for a moment, and asked in shock, “Chandler, is that you? How… how did you know I was here?”

Ryan Chandler was taken aback, carefully looked the woman over, and saw that she had a curvy figure, attractive features, slightly wavy permed hair, and was wearing a white dress with a wide neckline—Japanese women loved skirts all year round, even as winter approached. This outfit seemed pretty open and fashionable for the era, but who was she?

He racked his brain for a while, and from a jumble of fragmented memories, finally managed to recall who she was—Ariel Kent, apparently “his” ex-girlfriend.