Chapter 13: The Underdog Strikes Back

Shinjuku District, Okada Investment Co., Ltd.

The afternoon sunlight slanted through the blinds, casting alternating stripes of light and shadow across the floor of the open office.

The air was thick with a dull mix of coffee, paper, and electronic devices.

Around the room came the tapping of keyboards and hushed phone conversations.

In a corner, inside Nakano Masao’s private cubicle—

The man sat with his back to the door, facing his computer screen.

What was displayed on the split screen was not stock charts or project proposals, but several live surveillance feeds from hidden cameras installed throughout his home, each from a different angle.

He rested his chin on one hand, while the fingers of the other idly scrolled the mouse wheel.

To conserve energy, he had delegated the task of monitoring the house to the cameras.

Earlier, by following Risa through the “eyes” assigned to her, he had watched Mrs. Horii’s tea gathering from start to finish.

What surprised him slightly was that Risa, sitting among those lively, laughing women, wore a strained smile. Her body was stiff, and when faced with their explicit topics, her embarrassment—and even a hint of… rejection—was obvious.

Like an innocent girl who had wandered into a brothel by mistake.

“Not at all like a woman who’s been married for over ten years,” he murmured to himself.

But just then—

Bang!

The office door was shoved open with brute force, slamming loudly against the wall.

The already noisy office fell briefly silent, countless eyes openly turning toward the commotion.

The person who entered was his direct superior—Department Manager Tanaka.

A man in his forties, overweight, who always wore his shirt buttons pulled tight across his belly.

At this moment, Tanaka’s oily face was clouded with anger, his small eyes burning with fury. In his hand, he tightly gripped a stack of documents, like evidence of someone’s crime.

“Nakano!” Tanaka’s voice rang loud with rage, echoing across half the floor. “The final data report for the ‘Yamazaki Trading’ project—weren’t you responsible for reviewing and submitting it?”

Nakano Masao slowly turned around, unhurried.

His expression had already switched into the most standard “Nakano Masao mode”—a mix of humble confusion and cautious politeness.

“Yes, Manager. I reviewed that report last Friday, and after you personally checked and signed it, I submitted it to the executive.”

“Checked? Signed?” Tanaka’s voice sharpened like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. He slammed the documents onto Nakano’s desk.

“Take a look! The executive just blew up! There are serious discrepancies in the core data—completely skewing the preliminary evaluation! The client has already raised objections! Do you have any idea how much loss this could cause the company?!”

The papers scattered across the desk.

Nakano Masao glanced down.

It was a copy of the report, with several key figures crudely circled in red pen.

He had an excellent memory. Though he had little interest in business details after taking over this body, he had still skimmed the documents he handled to maintain appearances.

He clearly remembered—those numbers hadn’t been like this.

This looked more like… a version that had been tampered with afterward, then pushed onto him as a scapegoat.

If it were the original Nakano Masao—the timid, oppressed salaryman—he would have already turned pale under such blatant blame-shifting and scolding. He would have lowered his head, apologized repeatedly, perhaps even started doubting himself, and silently taken the blame.

But the one sitting here now was “Zhang Bai-ba.”

The demon king who had stirred bloodshed in the spirit world, clashed with elite demon slayers, and escaped even after being gravely wounded.

Human workplace scheming and bullying meant nothing to him—no more than ants fighting over scraps.

He needed this human identity as a cover.

He needed the income and social role this job provided to maintain “normalcy.”

But that did not mean he would tolerate being trampled and slandered by an ant.

As Tanaka continued ranting, trying to pin even more responsibility on him, Nakano Masao lifted his head.

His gaze remained calm—there was no visible anger. But beneath that calm was a cold, detached scrutiny, like looking at a lifeless object.

It made Tanaka, mid-rant, feel an inexplicable chill. His voice weakened slightly without him realizing it.

“Manager,” Nakano Masao spoke, his voice clear enough for nearby coworkers—who were all secretly listening—to hear.

“This final report was personally reviewed by you last Friday at 3:20 PM. You signed off on pages seven and twelve. At 3:40 PM, I placed it on the file rack in the executive office. Miss Satō from the secretary’s office can testify—she was organizing documents outside the executive office at the time.”

His tone was steady, his logic precise, every timestamp exact.

“As for the data points you just circled,” he tapped lightly on the red marks,
“In the version I submitted, the third item—market growth rate—was 5.3%, not the current 3.5%. The seventh item—raw material cost baseline—used the Q2 average price, not Q1 as it shows now… Shall I go through all the altered figures one by one?”

“I still have the draft backup on my computer, as well as… photos taken before submission.”

Tanaka’s face instantly flushed a dark red.

He hadn’t expected this usually quiet and compliant subordinate to be so meticulous—keeping evidence in private.

The modifications had indeed been made later by Tanaka himself, to cover up another mistake. He had assumed he could easily shift the blame onto Nakano.

“You—you’re talking nonsense! Photos? Those are fake!” Tanaka snapped, though his momentum had already faltered, his eyes beginning to dart nervously.

“Whether they’re fake or not can be verified easily—by checking the surveillance outside the executive office last Friday, or by having IT examine the file’s modification timestamps,” Nakano Masao replied calmly.

His voice was steady, yet it cut like a cold scalpel, peeling away the façade of Tanaka’s bluster.

“Also, regarding the problematic market research data at the initial stage—I recall it was you who designated ‘Jiexun Consulting’ as the source.”

“At the meeting, I raised concerns about the credibility of their past reports and suggested using the more authoritative ‘Imperial Database,’ but you rejected it, citing cost concerns and trust in the partner.”

With each sentence, Tanaka’s face grew paler. Sweat even began to bead on his forehead.

The surrounding coworkers still pretended to work, but nearly every ear was tuned in, their eyes gleaming with surprise, understanding… and even schadenfreude.

Even if a superior tried to cover his incompetence by shifting blame—

This was Japan.

For an employee to openly talk back to a superior—

Wasn’t this insubordination?

Nakano Masao had gone too far.

Didn’t he fear retaliation? Punishment?

In such a rigidly hierarchical society, no one liked a subordinate who showed no respect for their superior.