Poor Gon stood outside the tall glass doors of the boardroom, heart pounding like a drum solo. Inside, the world's top business executives waited. Behind him, Mahiru—his secretary—tapped rapidly on her tablet, her perfectly tied bun swaying as she walked.
"Sir," she said without looking at him, "you'll be expected to lead the discussion on the Devlin merger. You did read the briefing I sent you last night, right?"
Poor Gon gave her a sheepish grin. "Of course! I skimmed... most of it."
Mahiru stopped walking.
He stopped too. "Uh-oh."
She turned slowly, eyes narrowed. "You skimmed a multi-billion dollar merger document?"
"I mean, I did my best. There were... um, a lot of words."
Mahiru sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Let's just hope your 'best' doesn't crash the stock market."
Inside, the meeting began. Executives nodded at him. Everyone was serious. Polished. Confident. Gon sat at the head of the table like a deer in headlights.
He looked at the first slide on the giant screen.
It read: Q3 Strategic M&A: Devlin Logistics Integration Plan
"What... is M&A?" he whispered.
Mahiru, seated beside him, leaned over. "Mergers and Acquisitions."
"Oh. Right."
A suited executive cleared his throat. "Sir, perhaps you'd like to present your opening remarks?"
Gon stood, trying to channel every anime businessman he'd ever seen.
He slammed his hands on the table. "Let's make this deal... the most epic fusion of business chakra you've ever seen!"
Dead silence.
Mahiru stared at him, horrified. One exec whispered, "Did he just say chakra?"
Gon laughed nervously. "A little humor, haha! Okay, back to the numbers…"
He clicked the remote.
The slide went blank.
He clicked again. It stayed blank.
He looked at Mahiru. "Help."
She took the remote and tried to cover for him, clicking manually from her tablet. "Apologies, gentlemen. Technical error."
As Mahiru continued the presentation, Gon slumped in his seat, trying to melt into it.
Things only got worse. When someone asked about projected synergy costs, Gon responded, "Uh… let's synergize our strengths instead of our costs?"
There was an audible groan from across the table.
Then came the worst part.
"Mr. Gon," said an executive with steel-gray hair, "we'd like to hear the numbers directly from you. After all, you're the face of this deal."
Poor Gon's face turned the color of skim milk.
Mahiru, sensing the panic, stepped in. "Sir had a late-night meeting with—"
"We didn't ask you, miss," the gray-haired man interrupted sharply. "You're just the secretary. Please stay in your lane."
Several executives chuckled. One even muttered, "She's been getting awfully chatty lately. Maybe it's time for a new face at that desk."
Mahiru froze, humiliated.
Poor Gon shot up from his seat. "Hey—!"
A blinding pressure hit his skull like a hammer made of glass.
The world trembled.
The moment cracked—and just like that—
Rich Gon was back.
He stood slowly, eyes calm, posture razor-straight.
He adjusted his cufflinks, his tie, and then his eyes scanned the room.
"Apologies for the confusion," he said smoothly. "I'll take it from here."
The executives stiffened. This was the Gon they knew. No jokes. No chakra. Just pure, calculated menace in a tailored suit.
"Now then," he said, gesturing to the screen, "let's walk through the Devlin integration. The projected synergy value over 18 months sits at $2.7 billion. Our goal is 25% cost absorption within Q1, followed by talent reallocation and infrastructure overlap management."
The executives nodded, impressed.
He clicked to the next slide. "In summary—this is not a merger. It's an acquisition by dominance. We don't need Devlin's board. We need their logistics spine."
There was a beat of silence.
Then applause.
Someone clapped. Then another.
The room filled with approval.
Mahiru sat silently beside him, still stung from the earlier insult.
And then Rich Gon turned to her.
Without emotion, but with quiet firmness, he said, "Secretary Mahiru. Forward the tactical blueprint to Mr. Ellis. You prepared it, after all."
She blinked.
One of the mocking execs coughed awkwardly.
"Yes… sir," she said, eyes wide, lips almost trembling.
A minute later, the meeting ended. Rich Gon strode out with silent authority, the others trailing behind him like obedient ducklings.
Once in the hallway, he stopped at the mirrored elevator.
Mahiru joined him, keeping her eyes low.
She whispered, "You didn't have to… thank you."
Rich Gon didn't respond.
But somewhere deep in his cold heart… something felt odd.
That night, in the black void of nothingness, the two boys stood face to face again.
Poor Gon immediately lunged forward. "Dude! You saved her!"
Rich Gon raised an eyebrow. "I saved the company's image."
"Liar. You never would've done that. Not unless someone told you to. Admit it."
Rich Gon was silent.
Poor Gon smirked. "You did it because I was there earlier. Because I saw them insult her."
He stepped closer. "She's not just 'some secretary,' you know. She's the one keeping your empire from collapsing every time you go cold-blooded shark mode."
Rich Gon stared at him for a long moment.
"She's competent," he said at last. "But replaceable."
Poor Gon shook his head. "Maybe in your world. But not in mine. She didn't deserve what they said. I asked you to save her."
Rich Gon looked away, jaw tightening.
"…You asked," he admitted.
Poor Gon grinned. "So that's a yes."
Rich Gon sighed. "Don't get used to it."
"I won't," Poor Gon said. "But thanks anyway."
They stood in silence, the void flickering again.
Poor Gon glanced around. "So... any idea what's going on with this switching stuff?"
Rich Gon folded his arms. "I thought it was over. But we switched back again."
"Random," Poor Gon muttered. "Like lightning striking a weird friendship."
The void rumbled softly, like it agreed.
They both nodded.
A pact was reforged—not just to survive—but to solve the phenomenon once and for all.
Back in the slums, Rich Gon awoke once more in the familiar, humid apartment. He sat up, looking around at the cracked walls and low ceiling.
It felt oddly comforting this time.
In the penthouse, Poor Gon jolted awake, tangled in the silk sheets.
He stretched, then sighed in relief. "Back to normal. Finally."
They both lived their respective lives for two days, adapting again, each day growing a little more comfortable.
Until the third morning arrived.
In the slums, Rich Gon stood by the stove, cooking rice porridge, when everything blurred.
Across town, Poor Gon was brushing his teeth in a golden bathroom, when the mirror warped like liquid.
Both blacked out.
And in a flash—they switched again.
In the void that night, they met once more, disbelief in their eyes.
Poor Gon groaned. "Are you kidding me?! We switched again!"
Rich Gon frowned. "It wasn't fixed… it's not over."
They both stood silent for a moment.
"It's random," Rich Gon finally said. "That's the only explanation. Some unknown trigger swaps us. Randomly."
"Then we have to figure it out," said Poor Gon. "Or this'll keep happening forever."
The void around them rumbled again, almost impatiently.
Poor Gon grinned despite everything. "Hey. At least we're getting better at being each other."
Rich Gon narrowed his eyes. "Speak for yourself. Your rice porridge was half-burnt."
"Your bathtub has seventeen buttons. I started a bubble war and had to fight my way out. Don't complain."
Rich Gon almost smirked.
Almost.
They both nodded.
It wasn't over.
But maybe… it didn't have to be the end of the world.