“Ikuna Iko… What a weird family name, where do you think it's from? Ah, it doesn’t matter, are you ready, Seina?”

Private Room 4 was tucked behind two silver walls wrapped with vines and plants with neon blue running overhead. It was one of the more out-of-the-way rooms, with its main theme being the colour red, a direct contrast to the rest of the club’s blues, oranges, and silvers.

It was rare that hostesses were booked for private rooms, the most common form of action they saw were behind-the-scenes business deals or a gathering of friends who wanted to speak about things that were more suited for soundproofed areas.

And that’s without mentioning that this was a one-on-one situation, or I suppose two-on-one was more accurate, with Nao being requested alongside me. But that just made this all the more odd; why would a woman want to spend time in a private room with two random hostesses they’ve never met?

Hostesses are meant to be shown off, they’re a status symbol, the peak of desire that for a brief moment, a client can possess. That’s our purpose, to impress, to inspire, to coerce, and to encourage exuberant spending.

To invite two of the most expensive hostesses into a private room alone, just who are we being shown off to? What is this woman’s point in coming here? There has to be a reason, some abnormal goal she wants to accomplish.

“Yes.” I replied simply to Nao, none of the fanfare that she’d come to expect from work mode Seina.

Since becoming able to switch in and out of Seina as long as I have a reason, I no longer needed my mirror routine. Now, all I have to do is see the client, and Seina is able to perfectly match herself in an instant to what they desire, assuming their appearance matches their personality. And if not, a few minor tweaks were all that's needed to ensure Seina remains flawless to all.

“Uh? We’re about to start, why aren’t you in work mode? If you’re still mad at Ha:Yami about the role stuff, please sabotage a shift that I’m not on, okie?” Nao replied in a slightly jokey manner, but there was enough truth in there to show that her trust in me had clearly decreased after yesterday’s outburst.

“Work mode is a switch. I can turn it off and on as I please.” I answered, prompting her to swivel towards me on her heel and examine me from top to bottom.

It was a piercing study, watching so closely that her glare went right through me. At this moment she had become a scientist, her recording eyes taking notes on every out-of-place muscle on my face in an attempt to deduce me.

“Is that new? I swear it didn’t use to be like that, it’d be this one-time thing you did all night then stopped at the end, so can you switch at will now?” She asked with a finger wrapped around her short brown hair.

“Yes, I’ve gotten better at it.” I confirmed with a nod.

“Oh, I think I preferred the old version.” Nao added with a tiny tint of dejection, before kicking herself into a happier tone more suited in an upbeat TV show for children, “But let's not think about that, we have a client to satisfy!”

Nao was the first to slide open the double doors and enter the room.

Her dress was all black, hugging closely over her body and running down to her knees. Small black jewels blanketed the fabric over her midriff and extended up her sides before splitting into two and reconnecting on each of her arms as the jewels turned from black to white before finally stopping at her wrists.

Along the side of her hips and up to her ribcage, the dress crisscrossed its velvet textile and exposed Nao’s milky skin to any prying eyes nearby, transforming grace into allure, especially as the eyes reached her breasts, which held nothing back as the decolletage turned the cleavage into a focal point.

A matching pair of pearl earrings hovered side-by-side next to her neck, bright silver interlinking the individual pearls and forcing attention to her cutesy, yet refined liquid bob hairstyle that showcased the perfect blend of modern and vintage.

She’d changed her hairstyle recently, replacing her fringe with a more fluid middle parting that placed her green contact lenses front and centre, highlighting their emerald glow for all the world to see.

I followed right behind her, the matte black and brown doors closing behind us.

My outfit was no less impressive, but instead of a fancy dress destined for frontrunning at a fashion show, mine seemed like it’d be more at home within the ballroom of a new generation’s noble party.

Replace the velvet black for silky blue that adorns the wearer like summer morn arriving after a winter’s night. Impossibility made possible by the might of fashion, combine light and dare to send it against darkness, knowing full well that it will succeed.

My dress is longer than Nao’s, it trades allure for elegance, the only view of my skin from the neck down was my arms and legs, and every other place was packaged up like a present, even including the added teal ribbons that loosely hang from my arms and lower back, transforming the uniform from class to heavenly as they trail behind me like a cape.

And tied into an elaborate single braid, my blonde hair ran down my back as if it were an expressway and it was late to a meeting, all the while exposing my slim neck like it's a closely guarded secret.

“Good afternoon, ladies. Seina and Nao, yes? It's a pleasure to meet you both, as outstanding as I anticipated.” A dragoness greeted us, her tone silky and domineering, she spoke as if we were the clients, and she the hostess.

She possessed an authority, the sole governmental voice within this country of a room.

The neon red decorated the walls and spread throughout this abode as if it were the encroaching erosion at war with coastal cliffs a thousand years old, obsessed with expansion as its waves battered and broke rock smaller and smaller with each passing clash.

It illuminated everything it touched, dying all in the same shade of sensual vermilion. It enveloped her body, a drop of blood from the overhead lights staining her dress from whatever colour it once was to prominent scarlet.

Our outfits suffered the same fate, the blue and black instantly transforming into bloody red as the doors sealed behind us. We became the unprocessed photos resting on a line within a darkroom, waiting until this colour seeps into our skin.

Her legs were crossed lazily, her back ramrod straight in contrast as she observed us like a predator who’d already eaten its fill. Disinterested, yet curious at how close the prey dares to get.

The darkness and engulfing neon red of the room made it a challenge to see her facial features, like a princess within a war tower, the battlements obscuring all but the luminosity of her hair.

White.

A beacon of pure white graced her outline, running from the top of her head down to her hips, it encompassed her presence, the singular speck of colour able to fight against the unending brigades of ruby red with unmatched ferocity, preserving her snowy incandescence.

Yes, this was a woman long adept with the mastery of supremacy.

This was Ikuna Iko, totally assured of her hegemony of talent.

The author of ‘Is It Wrong To Live’, a manga with over 36 million copies sold.

I thought her name was familiar, but it only came together once I saw that iconic hair. Very few people in Japan dye their hair in such… standout colours.

“Take a seat. Oh, but mind my guests… they’re important to me.” She purred with an arm outstretched, subtly commanding us to plant ourselves on the couches next to her.

Her words brought my attention to the two German Shepherds on either side of her, one pure black and the other total white, both sitting at attention motionlessly and alert, like the soldiers of her Queen’s Guard.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Dogs weren’t allowed inside the Ha:Yami, so the very fact that they were here meant someone high up had made an exception for her. That wasn’t surprising in the slightest, as someone as committed to creation as her would have an equally large bank account to match, all she’d have to do is put down a few more yen on the table and Ha:Yami would move mountains to accommodate her, especially if everything were regulated to a private room.

Nao flashed her trademark smile, teasing and bubbly, before gliding to the couch on Ikuna’s left. I followed her lead, taking the couch on Ikuna’s right, my eyes tracing the white table in between us housing a scattering of photos, scripts, papers, headshots, and notebooks.

She had transformed this room into a temporary office, not only bringing her work here but also adding various amenities into the mix that was this neon-red room. It made me wonder whether this was planned beforehand, or something she had decided on in the spur of the moment. After all, this amount of items couldn’t be transported on impulse, unless this was a common affair? The practice would certainly make it manageable.

“I am Ikuna Iko, please make yourself comfortable.” She introduced herself, a wide confident smile on her face, and then added, “We have a long night ahead of us.” Ending the sentence with a wink that seemed to say, you’re already trapped.

“You are the author of ‘Is It Wrong To Live’.” I stated to her mirth, my research into the acting world coming in handy once again.

“No need for introductions? Amazing, that saves time.” She cleared her throat, using the sound to bolster her strange performance, “I’ll cut to the chase, this is the seventh club I’ve visited this past week. I’ve stumbled into what you might call writer’s block? No, maybe actor’s- director’s block, yes, that is the correct term.”

Ikuna continued, her body shifting from side to side as she spoke, not really paying attention to us as she maintained her explanation.

“In summary, casting for the adaptation of my manga is going… What's a worse word for ‘poorly’?” She asked out loud, not really expecting anything from us, “Abysmally!” She declared, happily.

She popped a glasses box out of her bag, opened it and put on a rounded pair of glasses that sat delicately over her nose, transforming her appearance from a laid-back party girl to a hyper-focused creative engineering expert.

“So yeah, I need opinions, new outlooks, and… well, whatever else you two can do? If it's something, it might help. There are a whole lot of shit actors here, not to mention parts of the story have to be rewritten, and I hate rewriting my stories. But it's all for… ‘simplicity's sake’, and I’ve begrudgingly conceded.”

Finishing her speech, she looked at myself and Nao expectantly, and asked, “Ideas?” As if that word would suddenly manifest equally long-winded answers for her.

I hadn’t looked into Ikuna Iko much during my research, much of my focus has been on movies, acting, and stage work, the categories recommended to me by Emiko, all of which she didn’t fit into. However, the current issues revolving around her creative oversight of ‘Is It Wrong To Live’ are widely talked about in those circles, so bits and pieces of her actions have passed to me.

The summary is simple, she is a control freak. On one hand, some people agree it's well within her rights to fire and recast actors for characters that she herself wrote. And on the other hand, there are those who believe she should stick to her area of expertise and stop interfering with the work of those more experienced than her.

Her most infamous decision was the recent removal and total recasting of 9 out of the 12 leads, which has pushed the release date of the movie from the end of this month to some time next year, and obliterated a year of filming as all the scenes with the fired actors are now useless.

“Alright, I see that’s not going to work so easily. It never does, let’s take it slow.” She paused, moving one of the headshots scattered on the table into view, “This is- Umm, look it's not important. She’s a Korean actress or was until she leapt over the Sea of Japan to… well, Japan. She’s on the shortlist, but there is something about her that I’m unsure about, so… opinions?”

The headshot captured an image of a beautiful Korean girl with long straight black hair that ran parallel to her youthful face. She was pretty, but I wasn’t really sure what we were looking for here.

“Hmm, she’s cute!” Nao offered her response with an enthusiastic nod and chirper smile, to which Ikuna just tutted and threw the photo into her bag haphazardly.

“That’s a no.”

Nao jumped in her seat, a little shocked that a compliment somehow resulted in an actress's rejection, “Huh?”

“If the average person can only see the looks of an actor, then that actor is subpar and doesn’t deserve to be even a background character in my movie. A first-rate actor can enthral the audience from a single photo, you’d be unable to tear your eyes away from them; hypnotised on the spot. Those are the type of actors I want- No, need.” Ikuna clarified, before taking another photo, of a man this time, and bringing it into focus.

“How about this guy? Chinese, his Japanese is decent, but he came highly recommended by his agency. This would be his first Japanese production, but his Chinese work is good. He definitely has the talent I’m looking for, but… I dunno, thoughts?” She asked, her voice trailing off as she sounded more unsure by the minute.

Your standard pretty boy Chinese actor with short black hair, dark brown eyes, and a charming boyish smile was displayed in the photo. Once again, he was attractive, but other than that he seemed… too tame? Not boring, but more too familiar, the same type of actor you could get from anywhere.

“I like him, he looks like he’d be nice.” Nao replied, her tone slightly shaky, but only to the point that someone very familiar with her would notice. The most probable case is that she’s having difficulties in reading this client, and thus is struggling to figure out exactly what she wants to hear.

And what she wanted to hear wasn’t that, so the picture went right into the bag, discarded again.

“‘Nice’, great.” Ikuna mocked, “Just what I was looking for in a villain. Worthless.”

The third photo was pulled from an envelope and placed on the table with one swift motion.

It was a stunning woman, beautiful and refined, her face was as cold as the ice on metal in winter, but her blue eyes were fiery enough to thaw through that chilly appearance in an instant. Her hair, blonde and luscious were no less eye-catching, and add on her clearly European descent, and she stole the stage from all these other headshots, even the other European or American ones.

“Your average Russian beauty. Her acting is passable, maybe better than passable? She was a figure skater until an accident at 19 ended that, tragic, but good for me I suppose. She’s pursued acting ever since, I think she’s now 21? Who cares? Anyways, fluent in Japanese, Chinese, and Korean, oh and the obvious English and Russian. Anything to say, or is she just pretty?”

Nao sheepishly looked towards me, before awkwardly smiling at Ikuna, “I like her, she has a certain charm?” She added, desperately trying an approach that Ikuna might like, “There are a lot of foreign actors here, is this an international project?” She continued, having hope that a subject change might reflect better on her.

It worked slightly, as Ikuna tilted her head while inspecting the photo and answered, only a tad bit distracted, “It's an Isekai, kinda. That means some of my characters are non-Japanese, not culturally, they were all originally Japanese, but reincarnation changed that for a few of them. So for accuracy, yeah, we need a few foreign actors.”

Upon finishing her brief explanation, she suddenly turned to me and spoke, “Seina, was it? You haven’t spoken much, input, now please.” She demanded.

Caught off guard, I shrugged and replied, “I like her.” Before realising I had responded as myself, and not as Seina. A fact Nao had picked up upon as she shot me a dirty look that seemed to scream, what are you doing?

Ikuna ignored Nao’s stare, and flipped the photo around revealing some words scribbled on the back, “Valentina Kholodova… A nice name. Now explain why you like her?” She rapidly shot back with all the pose of a tyrannical ruler.

This time I was ready, and Seina came out in full swing, perfection and intelligence in faultless unity.

“She reminds me of steam from a fire instantly put out by a bucket of cold ice water. An equilibrium of two opposing forces, fantastical in its unnatural nature.” Seina offered her words chosen to appeal to the mangaka’s eccentric personality.

Ikuna said nothing, her mind cycling through what Seina had said. And for a brief moment, she recognised Seina as something more than a hostess, but that feeling faded like quenched iron as she spoke her next words.

“That- that means nothing, but… I like it! If nothing else, it shows that this actress can inspire imagination. Either way, I need a blonde girl for a character; and natural is so much nicer than dyed.” She glanced over my blonde hair, clearly believing that my hair colour was unnatural, showcasing that she had no idea what the differences between natural and dyed hair were.

She then tucked the photo carefully into a pocket in her bag and gave the dog on her left a head rub as she straightened up again.

“Ok, I think I’m ready.” She announced, opening up her laptop, the bright white of the screen fighting against the red neon of the room. “You two can go now.”

Nao startled slightly but recovered before Ikuna noticed, mainly because she had already settled down working on whatever she was doing on her laptop.

I did wonder who exactly was our client for the night, and after almost two weeks of forgettable clients, I’m glad it turned out to be her. I doubt it could have been anyone more interesting, after all, you rarely find someone so buried inside their own head that they lose the ability to see people.

Ikuna Iko, an eccentric, control freak of an author, so obsessed with excellence that she’d tear her own work down to the ground in the hopes that rebuilding it would make it better.

Still, even with all this, I am left with one minor question of curiosity; who does she interact with more? The individuals around her, the people on the street, those that exist in this world of reality, or perhaps…

The ones inside her stories?