Chapter 7 — A Series of Unfortunate Interview.

The Murakami family’s home was filled with laughter, the clinking of cutlery, and the comforting scent of home-cooked meals. It was their anniversary dinner, a rare moment when everyone could finally sit together without the weight of the world pressing on their shoulders.

For once, their father looked at ease, smiling softly as he took slow, grateful bites of his meal. But peace, as always, was a fragile thing.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of his phone sliced through the warm chatter.

His hand twitched as he reached for it. Everyone paused. He glanced at the screen and sighed, his brows immediately knotting with the weight of obligation.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, rising from the table, the mood shifting with him as he stepped out to answer.

Wakasa caught the subtle change in his father’s expression. He knew exactly who was calling. Still, he chose not to comment, silently wishing his father could have just one day free from work’s shadow.

Inside, Liz turned to her mother with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“Mom? You and Dad went to the park today? Wow, how rare,” she teased, leaning her chin in her palm.

Ren immediately snapped his head toward her, glaring. “Liz, stop mocking. And seriously, you’ve been serving meals to Gab all evening instead of me. I’m your brother! Blood-related. He’s just—”

He waved a dismissive hand at Gab. “—him.”

Liz rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well, maybe if you were as charming as Gab, I’d serve you too.”

Gab chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Tough luck, Ren. I guess I’m just naturally the favorite.”

Before Ren could retaliate, their father reentered the room with a surprisingly relieved expression.

“It was a wrong number,” he announced, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Both Wakasa and their mother visibly relaxed. At least, for tonight, the weight of his job wouldn’t drag him away.

Their father sat back down, eyes warm as he turned to Wakasa.

“So, tell me—how did your interview go?”

Wakasa scratched the back of his neck and gave a sheepish grin.

“Uh… it went well, but with a dash of my signature bad luck. But don't worry I got a surprise too.”

Gab immediately perked up, smirking. “Oh? Bad luck? You? Wow, how surprising. Mr unfortunate was really into some trouble ha💸ha💸ha💸ha💸”

Wakasa sighed, resigned, and began his tale.

---

It all started at exactly 7:00 AM.

When his eyes finally fluttered open, panic hit him like a truck. “I’m late!” he yelped, bolting upright—only to tumble straight out of bed with a loud thud.

Scrambling, he dove into the bathroom, splashed water on his face, took the fastest shower of his life, and yanked on the first white shirt he could find. In a rush, he dashed to the café where Gab worked, his hair still slightly damp.

Gab looked up from the counter, barely holding back laughter. “Late to your first interview? Man, I swear bad luck follows you like a loyal puppy.”

“Shut up!” Wakasa groaned, punching Gab lightly in the stomach. “Stop joking and let’s go before I’m officially ruined.”

Gab wheezed a little but grinned, tossing Wakasa his car keys. “Yeah, yeah, let’s roll, Mr. Disaster.”

They sped off toward the company, the morning traffic adding to Wakasa’s bubbling anxiety.

Once there, Wakasa made a beeline for the restroom to fix his tie and gather himself while Gab chatted with the secretary—an old friend of his. Typical Gab, networking without even trying.

But fate, as always, had its sights set on Wakasa.

As he exited the bathroom, Wakasa bumped right into a woman holding a fresh cup of coffee.

Splash.

The warm liquid splattered across his crisp white shirt. He froze, his soul briefly leaving his body.

“Oh no—oh no no no—I’m so sorry!” he stammered, bowing repeatedly as the woman waved him off.

Drenched in humiliation, he rushed back into the restroom, furiously scrubbing at the stain. But the more he rubbed, the more the coffee bled into the fabric, mocking him.

A man entered the restroom just as Wakasa groaned in frustration.

With his most polite, gentlemanly tone, Wakasa turned to him.

“Excuse me, sir… I seem to be in a bit of a predicament. Could you—ah—lend me that handkerchief of yours? Just temporarily?”

The man, slightly taken aback, blinked, then chuckled. “You’re in quite the mess, huh? Sure, here you go.”

“Thank you, I’ll return it shortly,” Wakasa said, his charm shining despite his misery.

The man disappeared into a stall while Wakasa continued his desperate scrubbing. Of course, the stain refused to surrender.

When the man emerged, Wakasa hurriedly handed the now-clean handkerchief back to him.

“Thank you again, sir. I owe you one.”

“No worries. Bad luck makes for the best stories, right? Maybe this bad luck will turn into good luck.” the man chuckled as he left.

Wakasa trudged back to Gab, his shoulders slumped.

“Gab, jacket. Now.”

Gab raised an eyebrow but peeled off his blazer, tossing it to him. “Man, you really are cursed.”

“Don’t jinx me more,” Wakasa grumbled, slipping on the jacket.

Together, they entered the waiting room. It was grand, the kind of office that smelled expensive.

They sank into the plush sofa, Wakasa still trying to steady his heartbeat.

Gab smirked as he glanced over. “So… you gonna start your autobiography with ‘I survived a coffee apocalypse’?”

“Keep talking and you’ll survive my fist in your ribs.”

Gab’s laughter echoed softly as they both waited for the CEO to arrive—one perhaps oblivious to the chaos that had just led Wakasa here.

Little did they know, the real trouble hadn’t even started yet.

_____________________

Chapter 7— A Series of Unfortunate Interviews (Part 2) as a gift for you guys 🤭☺️💮 

Wakasa and Gab sat in the grand waiting room, the tension thick enough to slice with a butter knife.

“Okay, okay, let’s go over this one more time,” Wakasa whispered, glancing around nervously. “What if they ask me about my strengths?”

Gab smirked, leaning back with his arms crossed. “Easy. Say your biggest strength is surviving yourself.”

“Be serious!” Wakasa groaned, thumping Gab’s shoulder.

“Fine, fine! Say you’re adaptable. Like, you literally adapted to wearing coffee as a fashion statement.”

Wakasa gave him a sharp side-eye. “You wanna get punched again, huh?”

Gab grinned like a fox. “Oh, c’mon, you know you love me. Not like gay but a buddy, don't you, handsome?” 

“Love you less every second.”

They went back and forth, trying to rehearse answers, but Gab just couldn’t resist making Wakasa crack up every time he attempted to sound professional.

“Stop making me laugh!” Wakasa snapped, cheeks puffed in frustration.

“Sorry, can’t help it. You’re just so… punchable when you’re nervous.”

Before Wakasa could retaliate, the tall office doors creaked open.

Both of them straightened up instantly.

A man walked in—a tall, well-dressed gentleman with an aura so powerful it could silence an entire stadium.

Wakasa’s jaw dropped.

Gab blinked. “Hey, isn’t that—?”

“It’s him" Wakasa hissed, panic shooting through him. “It’s the restroom guy The handkerchief hero”

The man’s sharp gaze fell on Wakasa—but instead of looking irritated, he offered a warm, knowing smile, like they were old friends.

Gab raised an eyebrow. “Wow, that smile? Looks like you’ve already charmed your way in.”

“Don’t jinx it.” Wakasa whispered furiously.

The man took his seat and glanced at Gab. “You. Out. You’re not part of this interview.”

Gab shrugged as if this was a casual hangout. “Yeah, yeah, I know the drill. Later, Mr. Restroom.”

Wakasa shot him a glare as Gab winked on his way out. “Don’t blow it, Hot Mess.”

Now, it was just Wakasa and the mysterious man.

The interview began with the usual surface-level questions. Name, background, experience—Wakasa managed to keep his answers steady, though his hands were still trembling slightly from the coffee incident.

But then, the man leaned forward and pulled out a luxurious pen.

It was the kind of pen that screamed wealth—sleek, black, with gold detailing, sitting in a velvet case like a crowned jewel.

He placed it on the table and slid it towards Wakasa.

“Sell me this pen.”

Wakasa froze.

“Eh?” His brain short-circuited. In his head, he suddenly imagined himself going full market salesman.

He stood up, tied his necktie around his forehead like a warrior, and roared across a busy street corner:

“SALE! SALE! 50% OFF! LOOK AT THIS AMAZING PEN, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! LOOK AT THE NIB, THE GRIP, THE INK FLOW—A MASTERPIECE! STEP RIGHT UP!”

He blinked himself out of the daydream. Focus, Wakasa!

He carefully picked up the pen, staring at it as if the answer was written on it. His heart thumped.

Then—like a lightning bolt—he spoke and said something...."

Silence.

Then—a soft chuckle.

Followed by a hearty laugh.

The man’s eyes sparkled like a kid who’d just found his long-lost toy.

“I like you,” he said, still chuckling. “You’re sharp. Report to work next week.”

Wakasa blinked. “Wait—really? That’s it?”

“That’s it. See you soon.”

He practically floated out of the office, his head still spinning.

Gab was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, waiting.

“So? Dead or alive?”

Wakasa tossed him a cocky grin. “Nothing special… but this hot dude just landed a job.”

Gab narrowed his eyes. “What. Happened.”

Wakasa’s grin widened. “I’ll tell you… but only if you buy me lunch.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Gab groaned but dragged Wakasa back to his café. By the time they arrived, it was nearly 2 PM.

Wakasa plopped into his usual seat and crossed his legs like he owned the place.

“So, you wanna know the secret?”

Gab raised an eyebrow while preparing two plates. “Spill it, Drama king.”

“The guy handed me this super fancy pen and told me to sell it to him,” Wakasa began.

Gab’s mouth twitched. “Classic.”

“And you know what I said?” Wakasa smirked, resting his chin on his palm.

“I looked him dead in the eye and asked, ‘Do you need this pen?’ He said no, so I just pocketed it and told him not to waste his money and to use a lead pencil.”

Gab stared.

Then he exploded into laughter, clutching his stomach, nearly collapsing over the counter.

“You—YOU SAID THAT TO HIM?!”

“Yup.”

Customers began turning their heads as Gab wheezed and coughed from laughing too hard.

“Bro—you’re insane! You basically stole his pen! Poor guy was impressed by you without even thinking you just stole it haha”

“oh I just forget to give him back,plut he didn't ask me to return it."

"Correction—I saved his money.” Wakasa shrugged, sipping his iced tea like a smug prince.

When they finally told the story, wakasa's mother clapped her hands in delight, their father gave an impressed nod, and even Liz giggled while Ren pretended not to be impressed.

“So, Liz, how was your day?” Ren asked, tossing a piece of bread onto her plate.

Liz brightened immediately, “Oh! Well—”

But that, of course, was another story waiting to be told.

...to be continued with Liz part 🐚