Plin Ch 4.15

The atmosphere in the hastily convened executive meeting was frosty. Everyone racked their brains, wondering if they’d done something wrong, if there was an error in a report they’d submitted. Hugo K. von Idrohann was a relatively laissez-faire leader, so his calling of an emergency meeting signaled that something significant had occurred.

Thibeau’s mouth was dry as well. He’d suggested submitting the agenda beforehand, but Hugo stubbornly insisted on keeping it secret until the meeting.

What was he planning to say? Thibeau nervously clenched and unclenched his fists.

“The reason for this sudden executive meeting is to discuss revisions to The Scope Media’s advertising policy.”

“What?”

Everyone looked puzzled. It was Thibeau who voiced the question.

The Scope Media was a subscription-based content platform, adhering to an ad-free policy in exchange for subscription fees.

Hugo seemed to have forgotten, but just a few weeks ago, a revised plan proposing a cheaper membership with ads had been presented, and Hugo had flatly rejected it on the grounds that it would damage their “brand identity.”

“But didn’t you say, Executive Director, that being ad-free was our brand identity?”

A brave executive countered.

“Indeed, I did. However, I’ve recently been reflecting on my social responsibility as a business leader.”

Advertising and corporate social responsibility seemed like an unlikely pairing.

As if to dispel their doubts, Hugo continued.

“Therefore, I’m proposing to insert 3-second public service announcements about missing children. Isn’t that a good idea?”

Thibeau, sitting beside him, whispered, “Suddenly…?”

Hugo ignored him.

“I recently had the opportunity to speak with someone who lost their younger sibling. Losing a family member is a divine punishment, it’s that painful. Hearing about the agonizing years spent not knowing whether their child, missing for years and now an adult, is dead or alive, I couldn’t help but shed tears.”

“Hmm…”

Everyone had the same thought: Whatever else might be true, Executive Director Idrohann shedding tears was a lie.

“The media ecosystem is rapidly changing. You all understand that greater influence comes with greater responsibility, right? Commercial advertising and public service announcements have different purposes and effects. Even public service announcements can mitigate subscriber backlash. It’s your job to figure out how.”

The meeting ended quickly.

Some argued that inserting depressing ads into an entertainment media platform could negatively impact the psychological accessibility for subscribers seeking entertainment and that there was no precedent for such a move.

Others argued that it would enhance The Scope Media’s brand value and recognition, suggesting that a thorough investigation into specific ad placements and randomized ad content was necessary before implementation.

All of their opinions were dismissed.

“I’ve heard your valuable opinions. Please continue to share your insights without hesitation. Since we need preparation time, the implementation will begin ten days from today. The first missing child we’ll feature will be Andrea Fallfox.”

Hugo smiled benignly, like a true community leader.

He needed to protect Plin from Ethan. Ethan would see the ad and assume Plin hadn’t revealed their deal yet.

He hoped to receive useful tips about Andrea in the process, and if it could also impress Plin, that would be a bonus.

It was a meeting in name only. The executives, tasked with finding ways to mitigate subscriber backlash, sat there looking dejected and drained.

Leaving them behind, Hugo exited the conference room with a light step.

He’d been itching to check the text he’d received from Plin during the meeting and call him.

A juice company? Wow, exciting! ^0^

Plin seemed to think it was a joke, responding rather lightly. But Hugo truly wanted to use everything he had to make Plin happy.

They say first love never works out, but it didn’t seem to be the case for him.

***

Plin had a rather busy day. He had many tasks to take care of, and his emotions were just as active.

Now that he’d posted the notice about resuming sales on Zoosta, he had to start making Fox Love Juice. The batch he’d prepared for the festival had been spoiled and was unusable. It was a waste of ingredients, but these kinds of unforeseen incidents were part of doing business, he reasoned, generously giving himself a pep talk.

While the attempted kidnapping during the festival had been terrifying, he considered himself lucky to have been rescued by Hugo.

He needed to retrieve the ingredients for making the juice from his home.

Since Hugo always took about an hour to reply to messages, Plin had no choice but to contact Thibeau. Thibeau arrived with a small army of security personnel.

On the way to Plin’s house in Kill Green, four or five cars surrounded the vehicle he shared with Thibeau, providing an escort. He felt like royalty, and the thought made him incredibly embarrassed.

As they approached familiar streets, he kept his ears drooped until they reached his house, afraid someone might recognize him from the car window. With his ears down, he could be mistaken for a white dog.

Seeing Plin overwork his ear muscles, causing them to tremble, Thibeau teased, “You look like a fox with droopy ears.”

It had only been ten days since he’d last been here. But his perspective seemed to have adjusted to the Idrohann mansion, making his own meticulously cleaned and repaired home, filled with his love and care, appear shabby. Most of the furniture was secondhand, picked up and cleaned, and it all looked worn and faded.

Only the 900-liter refrigerator, a gift, looked incongruously modern in the combined kitchen and living room space.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been home, hasn’t it?”

“Yes… it feels that way.”

Plin looked around at his modest belongings. The familiar objects seemed to welcome him back. Despite the draft blowing through the house, he felt a sense of comfort.

While Plin gathered the ingredients for Fox Love Juice, Thibeau and a few others inspected the house. They carried small devices, checking for hidden cameras.

Even though it was a rundown place, it was his home, and he wanted to stay a little longer. He longed to take a nap in the fox den he’d made himself with red clay, but with so many people waiting for him, he couldn’t stay for even 30 minutes.

Back at the mansion, he was led to the Still Room in the annex.

“Wow, this is amazing…”

The Still Room resembled a library of tea and alcohol. A ladder stood next to a cabinet that seemed at least 6 meters tall, and each square or rectangular compartment was filled with tea leaves, liqueurs, and dried fruits. The fragrant scent of herbs mingled with the aroma of the wooden furniture.

“It’s a bit dark, isn’t it? Tea and alcohol are best stored in a dark place, so we adjust the lighting accordingly.”

“I see… I didn’t even notice it was dark. My house is about this dark. The sun doesn’t really shine in.”

The Still Room maid smiled at Plin, who was still looking around in awe.

“You’re welcome to use all the equipment here. Of course, you can use the pot connected to the still. I’ll leave you to it so you can work comfortably. If you need anything, please ring this bell.”

“Thank you.”

A large, silver still, as big as a dragon, gleamed in the center of the Still Room. To think such a space existed in this house… Making his juice here would make him feel like a scientist or a specialist.

The pot connected to the still was about a third of Plin’s height. It would be so convenient to just pour all the herbs in and make the juice in one go. At home, he had to boil the herbs in two deep pots alternately on a two-burner stovetop, spending the entire day wrestling with them.

Plin quickly adapted to the new environment.

“Heave-ho.”

He placed the basket of ingredients on the spacious table and began measuring and mixing.

He wasn’t completely at ease. Still, it was better to focus on the task at hand before worrying about other things.

‘Do what you can.’

It was a mantra he repeated whenever he felt overwhelmed.

He had no money, few skills, and no connections. So, he often felt lost and stuck. It felt like everyone else was walking on level ground, while his path was filled with obstacles and “Do Not Enter” signs.

Every time, it was this phrase that kept him going, pushing him to take even one small step forward.

‘Do what you can.‘ It was also a way of comforting himself, reminding him that there was still something he could do.

He often felt like an uninvited guest at a party. He was frequently embarrassed, rejected even with a smile, his pride hurt…

He remembered these words when his parents died, and his relatives abandoned him, leaving him to wander the streets. He remembered them when he ran away from the orphanage that barely fed him and renovated an abandoned house to live with Andrea. He remembered them when he started his business at a young age and when he placed a small newspaper ad looking for Andrea.

The daily guilt of feeling love for the very person he’d deceived was agonizing. When he thought he couldn’t face him anymore, when he was so ashamed and scared he wanted to die, he confessed everything. Even if Hugo ended up disgusted with him, it was the only thing he could do.

“All done.”

Lost in thought, he’d almost finished the preparation. Plin placed the pot on the stove. Now he just had to boil it for three hours and then bottle it.

He stored the remaining ingredients in a spacious compartment at the bottom of the cabinet, labeled “Plin’s.” The Still Room maid had cleared the space for him.

While waiting for the juice to boil, he turned on his phone. At first, he’d thought the comments on his Zoosta post weren’t a big deal, but seeing over a hundred negative comments from upset customers felt like nails being hammered into his heart.

He’d turned off his phone because the constant Zoosta notifications were startling him.

“Oh, right. This message.”

I’ll buy you your own juice company.

It was a message he’d missed while distracted by the flood of Zoosta notifications, pondering how to reply.

He’d laughed when he first saw it, and he was laughing now.

Plin understood why Hugo had sent the message. Shortly after he’d posted the picture on Zoosta, Hugo had liked it. He must have seen the harsh criticism from his customers… He didn’t usually get so many angry customers, but this time, there were an unusual number of them.

Plin was used to such harsh words. Ever since he was born a mutant “white” fox, people had been unkind to him. So, it wasn’t unexpected, but seeing so many people voicing their complaints made him shrink back. He hadn’t realized it was such a big mistake; he’d been too naive.

But “a juice company,” of all things…

It felt like an offer to become the host of a party, after a lifetime of feeling like an uninvited guest.

Plin’s brow smoothed, and he smiled brightly. It was the first time someone had liked him for being a white fox, the first time someone had offered to help him find Andrea, and the first time someone had warmed his heart so thoroughly.

He wanted to express his gratitude. Plin carefully typed out a reply.

A juice company? Wow, exciting! ^0^

The comforting sound of the pot simmering came from behind him. His heart fluttered pleasantly.

***