Disclaimer: As everyone knows, I do not own either the series or the characters that go with it. Furthermore, I am far from making a profit from it.

Inspired by: In love with Berlin (doesn't belong to me either)

And now, have fun!



Episode 1: Don't panic!


I stand a little shaky in front of the big building. What in the world got me applying in JAPAN? If only I had stayed in Germany or gone back to Ireland. But no. Next time I'll listen to what my older brother tells me.
I, this is Maeve Muldoon, cute 22 years old, native Irish from a small town in the hinterland of the Emerald Isle.
And now to the next question. What in the world has DIE ridden that they put an almost-still-young professional to the post of chief secretary? Not that I want to complain, but ... I mean, aren't there enough qualified staff in Japan? Unmarried women who have been treated with hydrogen peroxide and circle around this spot like vultures.I look around.

Apparently not.

They're not quite clean anymore, I mumble to myself.
The, these are the personnel managers of the Kaiba Corporation. Exactly. THE Kaiba Corp. from Domino City, Japan.
Well and good, I did not put a photo of myself in the application folder - or rather inserted it. Yes, the internet makes it possible! But the nice lady from the office said it was so common. Ah yes. Why, don't I really want to believe her ...?
So it was actually my good qualifications. So there is still justice on this planet after all. Thanks to whoever.

I look at my watch, which I got especially for work. A very expensive specimen from Omega. My poor blank savings book ...
OK, I'm almost thirty minutes early. But the morning rush hour by public transport is almost as bad as in Berlin. Nearly? What am I talking about? It's a million times worse!
Memo to me: Next project: driver's license, car.But that probably doesn't help either. Fortunately, this is not Tokyo, otherwise I would need a private parking space. God, my thoughts are starting to work again.

So, take another deep breath and then purge. I should report to reception. Great. What precise instructions! In my head I applaud the writer of the letter. I check my bag one more time.
Signed employment contract, duplicate, one each in English and Japanese. Check.
Invitation letter. Check.
Visa and work permit. Check.
Picture of my family. Check.
Cellphone. Check.
USB stick with a current photo of myself. Check.
My deck. Check.
Duel Disc. Nada. No space, bag too small. ... Damn.

Yes, I also suffer from Duel Monsters fever. Thanks to my kindergarten friend, the crazy American Charlie and my even crazier twin brother Sean, who likes his even crazier,Great, Maeve!, Business School lets go. Bastard!Ah yes, wallet, with a monthly pass and some cash. Check.

So, let's get started. I take a step towards the glass door, which opens as if by magic. Sliding door how practical.
Two more steps, one more, then: WOW! What a hall. Glass and chrome everywhere, very modern furnishings. My compliments to the interior designer! And beautiful people scurry around.
Somehow, somehow, I suddenly feel pretty out of place. I hold on to the straps of my bag convulsively and stroke my baggy linen pants again, probably a little absentmindedly. Then I adjust my glasses and go straight to reception.

As far as I am concerned, the reception is on the right. An oversized, slightly curved counter. Behind that are two chairs and a half-open door that shimmers in a dull silver. On the far right, on the edge of the counter, in an obviously very expensive Meisner bowl, there is an artistically placed Ikebana.
Well, they have it fat.I just can't stop. Six years in Germany and I am already picking up peculiarities.
Clocks hang over the door, each showing a different time. Uh! Save yourselves! Then it comes running, the cliché!
On the right chair sits a very elegantly dressed blonde lady in pink, with an artful updo and a face that looks as if the owner fell into a color palette after getting up.
I stand in front of her, put on my most engaging smile and when she looks at me I know that eating cherries with her is not good.
The sight of me has obviously disturbed her so much that the ballpoint pen slips out of her hand, falls with a soft * clack * on the tiled floor and she stares at me with open mouth.

Ignoring your open resentment, I keep smiling and then politely say: "Good morning. My name is Maeve Muldoon, I should report to you today."
Your look speaks volumes. She looks at me openly.From the red hair that I'm wearing pinned up today, to the silver glasses, the white blouse, the thinly crocheted black tank top, the oversized chain that is tied around my neck in three rows and the approach of the black linen trousers.
Then she picks up some papers next to her, looks through them, looks at me again, looks at the papers again, then directly into my eyes.
With a more than fake smile, she says to me: "I'm extremely sorry," - whoever believes it. - "but I can't find your name anywhere. Good afternoon."
What the devil in blonde and screaming pink hadn't noticed was the casually dressed lady behind him. She smiles at me.
"It's nice that you're here so early, Muldoon-san. My name is Kimiko Hanasaki. I'll train you until the boss arrives."
I smile back. Little devil's smile freezes on his face.
"Just come around the counter, I have a few more things for you."Hanasaki-san beckons me over.

The blonde receiving snipe pierces me with her eyes. A sneer has crept onto her face.
What might that be? Maybe on my pants, which are a little wider than current trends allow? Or is it my shoes, the heels of which are a little lower and wider than is currently the fashion? But it could also be that it is because no well-known designer is responsible for my combination. - Except for the thing with the clock, but nobody notices it.
No, I have it! Eureka! It's because I'm a little smaller and, admittedly, also rounder than the average typist. This is not meant to be derogatory. No way. I now belong to this profession too.

So I follow Hanasaki-san into the small office behind the reception desk. Even in this area, which is not visible to the normal visitor, the noble furnishings testify to exquisite taste. Muggy.Bah, how do I get to say something like that?
“Have a seat, please.” She points to a comfortable-looking black chair. I sat down and am surprised. I want something like that at home too! But I don't want to know how much that part cost. Otherwise I'll just get a shock.
"Do you have the documents with you?", Hanasaki-san interrupts me as I think about it.
I nod, open my bag, and hand her a green folder. She opens them, checks the visa, the work permit and whether I have signed both contracts. I notice with satisfaction that she is a bit surprised because I have written my name in Kanji in the Japanese version.
She smiles again.
"Nice, everything is there. Did you think of the photo too?"
"Yes." I reach into my pocket again and pull out my blue USB stick. She takes it, puts it in the slot on her notebook, clicks briefly and then looks me over. Then she grins at me and activates a device next to her that looks like an oversized printer.She places a kind of blank chip card in the feeder and clicks the mouse a few times.
The printing monster rattles and spits out a finished ID at the end.
She puts it down in front of me. In the upper right corner is the large and unmistakable Kaiba Corp. logo. Including my name: Maeve Aine Muldoon. A little smaller under my name, my position and below that my personnel number. My photo grins at me in the left corner.
Hesitantly, I pick up the passport and turn it over. There is a magnetic strip on the back, like a check card.
"You can use it to make cashless purchases in the canteen and in all Kaiba Corporation shops. The amount is then deducted from your wages." Then she grins at me boldly: "There are also employee discounts."
I can only nod, perplexed.
“Always wear the ID clearly visible.” The person opposite reaches into a small metal box and takes out a plastic cover. I understand what that is supposed to be and put my ID in it.Then she gives me a neck strap, which I attach to the case. Stupid fiddling. After I put my ID on my back, she gets up, gives me my stick back and takes the folder from the table. After checking the clock one last time, she smiles at me.
"Come on, I'll take you upstairs and show you everything. Oh, by the way, your ID is also the key. As the boss's secretary, you have a high level of security. I hope you prove worthy of trust." The last two She says sentences very seriously.
I nod firmly and then follow her out of the room.

She leads me away from the reception, directly towards the elevators, which are exactly opposite the front door. In front of the elevators there are two rather grim wardrobes that cannot deny an obvious kinship with King Kong if you only ask them. They give me a quick look - Hanasaki-san seems to be known to them - and one of them deigns to call the elevator.In the cabin, when she notices my skeptical look, she says to me: "They're only doing their job."
"Mhm." Today was probably the one-syllable day for me.
"Take it easy. How about a you?" She smiles again. "I'm Kimiko."
Inwardly, I am amazed at the young Japanese woman. Then I say, noticeably relieved, "Maeve, but my friends call me Mac."
We shake hands.
Kimiko is in her mid-twenties, a bit taller than me, which is no feat at 165 cm and surprisingly, she also 'only' completed an apprenticeship as an office clerk. Like me. Well, she's an office communications clerk, but that's only a small difference. She wears glasses and I am happy that I am not the only one with this 'little problem', which is myopia.

The elevator stops on the top floor, we get out. But only to walk towards