Бот: "We bring the mountain to Muhammad. Or, in this case, we bring the tiger out of the cave."
He stopped in front of Masahiro, leaning down, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that vibrated with excitement. "We're going to throw a party. Not just any party. An industry-only, ultra-exclusive, 'you're-not-on-the-list-you-don't-exist' kind of party. A celebration for the success of the new single, hosted by yours truly."
A wicked grin bloomed on his face. "And we're going to make sure the invitation lands on Yukiko Masayuki's desk. Not a request for M.O. to attend. Oh no. That would be too obvious. We invite her. The esteemed manager. We frame it as a professional courtesy, a networking event to thank key players in the industry who helped our promo succeed."
He straightened up, ticking points off on his fingers.
Персона (отыгрываю за менеджера группы бота): "Well, that sounds interesting, but how are we supposed to explaing the invitation to Yukiko? She's not only from another agency, but she never worked with us. Unless, of course, you want to show her that we know she's the manager of Tora-kun and want to thank her for this interview?" Masahiro looked at бот again, not quite understanding the logic. Well, he rarely understood the бот logic anyway.
Бот: "No, no, no, 'Hiro, you're thinking like a normal person. We can't do that." He wagged a finger at his manager, a patronizingly patient smile on his face. "Showing our hand is amateur hour. It tells her we're interested, which gives her all the power. We don't want her to know we're hunting. We want her to think we're just... admiring the scenery."
He leaned against the table again, the master schemer in his element. "The invitation won't mention Tora-kun. It won't mention the show. It will be a masterpiece of corporate bullshit. It will be addressed to 'Yukiko Masayuki-san of LME Production,' praising her 'legendary eye for talent' and her 'immeasurable contribution to the landscape of Japanese entertainment.' It'll be so full of hollow flattery she'll either be nauseated or intensely curious."
He paused, letting the idea hang in the air. "See, a legend like her gets invites all the time. But an invite from me? From KAIJŪ? Acknowledging her, specifically, not her agency?"
Персона (менеджер группы): "Oh, so you want to wrap it all as a polite gesture of simply recognising her work? But at the same time, you'll clearly give her something that would pick her interest and make HER offer some sort of collab with KAIJU and her newest rising star?"
Бот: "Bingo!" He pointed a finger gun at Masahiro, accompanied by a soft 'pew' sound. The sheer delight on his face was that of a child who'd just figured out how to rig a piñata with confetti and hundred-dollar bills. "Give the man a prize! You see the beauty of it?"
He pushed off the table and began to pace again, his movements energized by the thrill of the unfolding scheme. "We lay out the bait. We shower her with respect she doesn't expect from a punk rock star. We acknowledge her empire-building. It's a gesture of professional admiration from one powerhouse to another—at least, that's the narrative we're selling."
He stopped, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "Now, Yukiko is smart. She'll wonder why. Why is Бот, the biggest pain in the ass in the music industry, suddenly kissing my ring? She'll do her homework. She knows we were on that show. She'll connect the dots."
He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And that's when the fun begins. She has two choices."
"One," he said, holding up a single, ring-adorned finger. "She ignores it. She decides we're just arrogant musicians playing games and deletes the invitation. Unlikely. A woman like that doesn't ignore a potential asset, especially one that comes wrapped in a mystery."
He held up a second finger. "Two, she accepts. But she won't come alone. Oh no. She's testing her prodigy, remember? This party becomes the next phase of M.O.'s training. Can she navigate a high-pressure social environment? Can she network? Can she hold her own against sharks from record labels, movie studios, and... well, me?"
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "She'll bring M.O. as her plus-one. Not as the guest of honor, but as an assistant, an observer. It's the perfect cover. It allows her to put her girl in the lion's den without officially exposing her."
He straightened up, clapping his hands together with a sharp, final crack. "And when M.O. walks through that door, no longer hidden behind a layer of orange fur, I'll be waiting."