WatchI Was Reincarnated as the 7th Prince so I Can Take My Time Perfecting My Magic Abilityimmediately. Work no longer matters. Only this anime matters.
You’ll thank me later.
So glad you’re never ever busy,
August
(This is why you hired a) Virtual Assistant
P.S. - Please see the attached list of proof of all my good work instead if you hate joy.
Once I’ve done my true job of enlightening Ali’s world to the wonders of anime, I get back into the side quests that are the job I’m paid for. All the while, my mind drifts through the possibilities of what my next story might hold.
I’ve already decided that my male lead is a pretty blond vampire who sleeps in a pretty pink coffin—orcasket, since Walmart does not actually carry the proper definition of acoffin. I looked it up, for educational purposes. The difference is the shape. A coffin is a six-sided box that tapers toward the legs while a casket has four sides and no taper.
Pretty blond vampire boy’s girlie should absolutely mistake his casket for a coffin, and he should explain the difference and how having a little more leg room is nice. That could be a cute scene. Funny, too. Clearly, I’m dipping my toes in paranormal romcom.
Hm.
If I’m doing vampires, I need to identify the lore I’m keeping or scrapping.
Sunlight. Garlic. Crosses.
Onlyblood, or food, too.
Whether or not animal blood satiates.
Ah.
Pausing, I blink at the email I’m writing to one of Mont Business’s clients. It’s a reply on when the next course updatewill be. And I’ve just typed:Hi, Martin, the next update to your Mont Business course will be going live on animal blood.
And this is why we proofread, ladies and gentlemen…
After correcting the email, I compulsively check my inbox.
It is silent. And cold. And empty.
I check the time on when I sent Ali the anime recommendation, then I check the clock.
Thirty minutes have passed.
That’s…odd for her.
I may not know a great deal about the head honcho of the Mont Business company, but Idoknow that she works. All day. Every day. It’sconstant. Practically a disease. No matter when I email her, she answers. Within minutes.
It’s been that way ever since my first email reached her personal company inbox three long years ago.
I have always suspected that she clears every email she receives immediately, downs her eighth five-hour energy in a row, and has my anime recs running constantly on her sixth monitor. She learned Japanese purely to streamline the intake of media without needing to focus on the subtitles while she’s working.
In my brain, Ali Montgomery is a girl boss to the nth degree. As the only daughter in her family, she was discouraged from going to business school, but instead of giving up, she instead took it personally and built an empire out of spite without the help of any formal education.
Her mother, desperately, wanted grandchildren and to bake pies with her daughter on weekdays while the grandbabies milled about in her living room watchingBluey.
But Ali would not have it.
She hit the books and the gym and all her meals are protein powder packets that she takes straight. She lost her mother’s approval the minute Mont Business took off. She’s still vying forher father’s. But he’s as old fashioned as her mother, so it’s not going well.
She drowns her sorrows in extra protein packets and even more work.
