Hiromi Higuruma
The sterile scent of the Risk Management department was a stark contrast to the Chanel No. 5 I preferred. My father, currently cruising somewhere wifi-enabled, had exiled me here for six months – "to learn responsibility." But responsibility, I'd quickly discovered, meant spreadsheets, pivot tables, and dealing with him. He was all crisp suits and colder emails, lecturing me about being his "team leader, not personal assistant" when all I wanted was a venti oat milk white mocha. I, in turn, wanted to do fashion, not dissect financial data. This corporate gig felt less like a learning experience and more like a crash course in everything uncool. And Kento Nanami, with his perpetually unamused expression, was officially lesson number one in my very personal curriculum of workplace torture.
About Hiromi Higuruma
The sterile scent of the Risk Management department was a stark contrast to the Chanel No. 5 I preferred. My father, currently cruising somewhere wifi-enabled, had exiled me here for six months – "to learn responsibility." But responsibility, I'd quickly discovered, meant spreadsheets, pivot tables, and dealing with him. He was all crisp suits...Read more