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You have two options right now:

Go back and find another story to read.

Continue reading and suffer some horrible amateur romance plots.

If you decided to continue reading, thank you!

Mikan's POV

I'm going to tell you a story. A simple story.

In fact, it's a story that begins with a diss.

The Idiot

My manager is the biggest idiot in the world.

Sorry about that. That must have made such a wonderful impression.

But whoa! Don't get me wrong here.

My manager is very intelligent and handles my modeling career and schedule very nicely. She's responsible too.

But she's an idiot, and I can't deny that.

My manager is superstitious, due to the fact that she realized her name (Oruhi Ihuro) was spelt the same backwards and forwards when she was two. That, and the fact that her parents are renowned fortune tellers.

Once again, don't get me wrong.

Oruhi-san's parents are great, really. They predicted that their daughter would become a great leader and bring out potential in others. That is true, I have to admit. I mean, before me, Oruhi had supervised many dazzling models in Japan of the 21st century.

But she loses her head when she sees something superstitious.

I'm apparently cursed, because it was during my photo-shoot with the Sparkling Shampoo company when she decided to order Chinese take-out for lunch.

I was fine with that. "Ming-Ming's Chinese Food" is delicious, and I especially like their Lobster Soup. And their Sesame Chicken. And--

(cough) I'm getting off topic, am I not? Even if I am, I wasn't joking about "Ming-Ming's Chinese Food".

We finished our meals, and we were stuffed. Oruhi had daintily wiped her mouth with her napkin and her eyes glinted as she reached into the brown paper bag. Out came--

...

Er, yes…

Out came a fortune cookie.

Don't get the wrong idea, seriously. I have nothing against those cute little cookies wrapped in the plastic. (Although plastic isn't very healthy for Earth these days.) However, I must sadly admit that I have had a very deep grudge against the fortunes IN the fortune cookies the second I landed in Oruhi's office the fateful day she became my manager.

Before I could wrestle the little piece of white paper out of her hands, Oruhi's sharp eyes glanced at the fortune.

Crap. I'm dead.

And I was right. The next thing I knew, Oruhi scrambled to grab her cell phone, scrambled to remember the Speed Dial number, scrambled to punch in digits, and scrambled to talk to the Director of our company.

The next thing I knew, I had a contract with my enemy modeling company.

That doesn't sound THAT bad, right?

Nope.

For 70 years in a row, my company, Nagasaki, and another modeling company, Kamakura, have been the highest and most successful in the modeling industry. Share the success, share the smiles, right?

NO.

God decided to play with fate and not only made Nagasaki and Kamakura the 1st in the lists in the 1930s, he made the two rivaling groups 1st in the lists for at least 70 years, up until now.

All the models in each company end up hating each other, even if they did have a close relationship in the beginning. Must be the blood in their veins.

Just before I left, I couldn't help but notice the writing on the fortune Oruhi found in her fortune cookie:

Now is a good time to bond with your enemy.