Chapter 14: Promotion

The conversation in the office continued.

“Now that the project has run into problems, the root cause may lie in an earlier stage. Manager, you’re shifting the blame to subordinates without distinguishing right from wrong, even going so far as to tamper with documents that were already signed and approved,” Nakano Masao slowly stood up. His height wasn’t particularly imposing, but the calm, almost terrifying aura around him made the heavier Tanaka seem like nothing more than bluster. “That doesn’t seem like an attitude aimed at solving the problem. It also falls short of the responsibility expected of management.”

He didn’t raise his voice or slam the table, yet every word landed like a slap across Tanaka’s face.

The office fell into pin-drop silence.

Tanaka opened his mouth, wanting to say something more—but under Nakano Masao’s unfathomably deep gaze, a chill rose from his feet, and the reprimand stuck in his throat.

In the end, he could only glare fiercely at Nakano and squeeze out, “This isn’t over!” before grabbing the scattered documents and leaving in disgrace, nearly tripping at the door.

The door slammed shut, its echo lingering in the silent office.

Nakano Masao sat back down, as if he had merely brushed away a speck of dust.

Yet among the subtle glances and whispered exchanges of his coworkers, rumors like “Nakano talked back to Manager Tanaka” and “Tanaka’s in trouble now” spread quietly like an undercurrent.

Most people watched with amusement. A few who disliked Tanaka even felt a sense of satisfaction. But almost no one believed Nakano Masao would benefit from this.

In Japan’s rigid corporate hierarchy, openly humiliating a superior usually meant the end of one’s career—or endless retaliation.

Sure enough, Tanaka did not reappear for the rest of the workday, but a tense atmosphere hung over the department.

Then, just before 5 p.m., explosive news spread through the office along with hurried footsteps and hushed exclamations:

“Did you hear? Manager Tanaka just went out on business and got hit by a motorcycle that ran a red light at an intersection!”

“Seriously? Is it bad?”

“Pretty bad, I think—his leg’s broken, and they say he has a concussion. He’s already been taken away by ambulance! He’ll be out for at least three months!”

“Wow… that’s awful.”

“Talk about bad luck.”

“So what happens to the mess he left behind?”

“I guess upper management will make arrangements soon.”

The office buzzed with discussion—shock, sympathy, and even a trace of hidden satisfaction mixed together.

Before long, a secretary from upper management notified the department of a meeting.

The emergency afternoon meeting was presided over by an executive, and the atmosphere was heavy.

After briefly reporting Tanaka’s accident and expressing concern, the discussion inevitably shifted to the “Yamazaki Trading” project and the temporary vacancy in the manager position.

When the executive asked who would be willing to take the lead on this hot potato and temporarily assume part of the manager’s duties, the room fell into a brief silence.

The project had already exposed major issues, and its future was uncertain.

Acting as manager would place someone at the center of the storm—success might not guarantee promotion, but failure would mean taking full responsibility.

Though the opportunity was rare, seasoned employees hesitated, uneasy and unwilling to volunteer.

Nakano Masao sat toward the back, eyes lowered, as if the matter had nothing to do with him.

He didn’t even look at his colleagues’ varied expressions.

Finally, under the executive’s increasingly impatient gaze, the most senior assistant section chief reluctantly spoke up, stammering that he could “assist” with daily operations—but firmly refused the title of “acting manager,” let alone taking charge of the troubled project.

The executive’s gaze swept across the room like a searchlight, passing over faces that were lowered, evasive, or pretending to think deeply.

In the end, it settled on Nakano Masao, sitting quietly in the back row.

In fact, news of the morning’s confrontation had already reached the executive.

Manager Tanaka had tried to shift blame, only to be calmly and logically refuted by the usually inconspicuous Nakano.

Now, the situation was a mess—faulty data, client complaints, and the person in charge conveniently hospitalized.

Someone was needed to stabilize the situation, untangle the chaos, and clarify—and resolve—the responsibility.

An employee who seemed familiar with the project details and not directly tied to the earlier mistakes suddenly became a “safe” choice in this moment when no one else was willing.

At the very least, if things failed, all blame could naturally fall on this temporary “acting” figure.

“Nakano-kun,” the executive cleared his throat, breaking the suffocating silence, his voice carrying its usual authority. “You’ve been involved with the ‘Yamazaki Trading’ project for some time and are relatively familiar with it.”

Hearing his name, Nakano Masao slightly lifted his gaze, his expression still as mild and indistinct as ever.

The executive continued, “During Manager Tanaka’s recovery, you will temporarily take the lead in handling the crisis and advancing the project. At the same time, someone needs to coordinate daily departmental operations. Your temporary position will be ‘Project Leader and Acting Section Chief.’”

He paused briefly, as if granting a favor, and added:

“Your salary will be adjusted accordingly, following the level of a deputy manager. I hope you will consider the bigger picture, stabilize the situation as soon as possible, and come up with a practical solution.”

The phrase “deputy manager level” rippled faintly through the minds of several senior employees—but was quickly overshadowed by more practical concerns.

That slight raise was hardly an attractive incentive compared to the obvious fire pit of an “acting” position.

After the announcement, the meeting room fell into another strange silence.

The air seemed frozen, broken only by the monotonous hum of the air conditioner.

All eyes turned toward Nakano Masao.

Those gazes were complex—surprise, envy, schadenfreude, even pity.

Yet no one spoke in opposition.

In fact, many quietly felt relieved.

At last, someone had taken over the troublesome mess, meaning they were safe for now—no need to be pushed into a position that might ruin their careers.

As for whether Nakano Masao could handle it—

No one cared.

If he failed, it would be expected, and the responsibility would be clear.

If by some miracle he succeeded… it would just be luck.

But that possibility seemed extremely slim.

Amid this silence heavy with meaning, Nakano Masao slowly stood up.

A trace of the cautious demeanor from his former persona still lingered on his face.

As if the executive had not handed him a high-risk position, but merely assigned him an ordinary overtime task.

Facing the executive, he gave a standard bow.

“I understand. Thank you for your trust,” he said steadily, without the slightest hint of the delighted surprise the executive might have expected. “I will do my best to sort out the project issues and coordinate departmental work.”

The executive frowned slightly, offered a few perfunctory words of encouragement—“work hard,” “the company has high hopes for you”—and then stood up and left the meeting room.

As the heavy door closed softly behind him, the stagnant air inside finally seemed to begin flowing again.