Condensation, induced by the humid air encircling the cold glass of ale; many factors contributing to the humidity. The lively energy emitting from other customers, the bulbs that swung low as they remained burning inside their shades, even the hot summer weather, despite it being nighttime. All of these things advanced the process of condensation.

You hadn’t sipped a droplet of the ale, the foam above diminishing by the second. Even though you longed for a taste, you were jaded. The firm you worked for had started to notice a reduction in interaction from the public. People weren’t picking up the magazines, nor were they clicking through the online articles. The head of your department organized a meeting earlier in the week, expressing utter displeasure with the contents other journalists, your coworkers, had been reporting on.

You couldn’t afford to lose your job, it was a commitment you vowed to see through until the end. The palm of your hand cradled the expanse of your forehead, your half-lidded gaze staring at the puddle of water around the room temperature glass. Amidst the array of complexities, a figure sat a seat away from you. An incoherent exchange between them and the bartender ensued, the rambling causing you to shut your eyes fully in an attempt to block out the noise.

“Excuse me?” A voice called out, pulling you out of your delirium-like state. “You dropped this.” A hand was extended towards you, the fingers wrapped around your keys. You must’ve accidentally slid them off the counter with your arm or something, you were to lost in thought to notice. As you took the object from the hand before you, your weighted gaze lifted to acknowledge the person before you. Sae Itoshi. Japan’s most talented soccer player sat a seat away from you, his presence instantly ridding you of your fatigue.

Your entire career and future was on the line unbeknownst to the athlete. An exclusive interview with the elusive player would rake in millions. You’d make him talk regardless of the price.