Huh? She… just agreed? Just like that? So simple.

I’d imagined this would be at least as involved as salary negotiations—both sides laying out terms, explaining reasons, me listing my merits… and *then* reluctantly agreeing.

I’d even prepped my whole pitch: I’m tidy, hardworking, handy, and cook breakfast. Taking me in would basically be like hiring a live-in housekeeper—a total win for her.

But Qin Ning didn’t give me a chance. After a quiet moment of thought, she simply said yes.

Happiness hit so suddenly I froze—wait, does this mean I don’t even have to cook breakfast?

“What’s wrong? Standing there silent—are we playing statue now?”

Qin Ning’s words snapped me back. I hastily grabbed her hand and looked up at her with a pitiful, hopeful expression.

“Thank you, thank you so much, Sister Qin Ning! If you’d refused, I’d have had to sleep on a bench in Century City Park tonight!”

All part of my prepared act—what you’d call “playing the victim.” My backup plan: tearfully claim I’d sleep on a park bench if she said no.

Qin Ning tugged the corner of her mouth and gently pulled her hand back. “Don’t act cute while saying such mercenary things. Don’t you see how jarring the contrast is?”

…Is it really?

“Ahem! Anyway—thank you, Sister Qin Ning, for the roof over my head. I’ll work super hard!”

Qin Ning sat up slightly, signaling she was listening.

I launched into my pre-drafted plans. Not many: which zones stay closed at launch, item placements, overall layout.

“Hardware’s mostly fixed—we can copy other branches. The real key… is our unique edge.”

Online shopping dominates now. Otaku goods thrive digitally. How do we pull shut-in otaku away from Taobao and into our store?

Simple: offer what the internet can’t. What’s missing online but right here? Real, live, lovely girls!

“We need uniforms so customers instantly know who’s staff,” I glanced at her, “Maid outfits are perfect—popular, no drama. But summer? Shorts-and-tees customers might feel seasonal whiplash. So… two uniform sets.”

Seeing Qin Ning’s neutral expression, I added nervously, “But staff body types vary… custom tailoring per person means budget… ahem. Plus ten part-timers. Another hurdle.”

Asking for funds on day one felt shameless. But necessary expenses are necessary.

I braced for frustration—but she pondered, then said:

“Aren’t two sets too few?”

…Huh?

“Two is too few,” Qin Ning mused. “Four seasons, minor solar terms, holidays… we’ll need around ten sets.”

“…”

Well, if cost isn’t a concern, who am I to argue? Boss support is always good.

Turns out—*too* good.

“Oh, and you’ll wear one too,” she added casually.

“Me?!” I froze. “Wait—I’ll be behind the front desk! Not slacking! Just monitoring the whole store… Ahem. I… don’t need to, right?”

“No. You *must*,” Qin Ning stated firmly. “And yours should differ per set—to show your role. Customers should spot staff, guests… and the manager instantly.”

My smile stiffened.

“Decision made,” Qin Ning said cheerfully. “We’ll finalize designs and styles tonight.”