Chapter 3: For the First Time in My Life—

When asked which day of the week is my favorite, I have an immediate answer ready.

Monday through Thursday are out of the question—they’re workdays with no hope of a break, turning me into a worker ant. What about Friday, then? The day I feel liberated from work, thinking, I made it through another week. It’s great, but compared to Saturday and Sunday, which have no work from the start, it falls short.

So, are Saturday and Sunday, both free from work, equally good? Not quite. Sunday is only enjoyable while the sun is up. By evening, the reality of Back to work tomorrow… sets in, and it becomes downright depressing. When the sun sets on Sunday, a shadow falls over my heart.

As a result, Saturday—free from work and the dread of tomorrow—is the clear winner. It’s probably the consensus among Japanese people. Of course, this doesn’t apply to those with busy Saturday jobs. Just like how Sazae-san syndrome doesn’t affect regions where the show airs on weekdays.

[T/N: Sazae-san syndrome is a depressed mood on Sunday night after an episode has finished on television, reminding people that the weekend is coming to an end.]

On this supposedly perfect Saturday morning, instead of lazing in bed, I was hard at work.

It was Kurosuke’s solo move.

The distance from his old home to ours was an eight-minute walk. On paper, it doesn’t seem like much, but carrying heavy or bulky items changes the story.

A cat toilet, a bed, an automatic feeder, a water dispenser, dishes, grooming tools, toys—all packed into boxes. That part was manageable.

Consumables like cat food and litter are measured in kilograms. Even though it was just one trip, the thought of making multiple round trips with all that was daunting. For someone like me, who spends most of my time indoors, either at home or at work, sitting in front of a computer, this was heavy labor. The worst part was disassembling, moving, and reassembling the cat tower.

I hadn’t underestimated what it meant to own a cat, but I’d definitely underestimated the amount of stuff needed. Bringing a cat home requires so much more than I’d thought. It’s a far cry from Rena, who arrived with just a carrier.

By the time everything was done, it was already past 1 PM. I collapsed in the living room, sprawled out, not wanting to move another step.

Rena brought out the folding table that had become her dedicated workspace and set up a late lunch for us. Seeing her slovenly landlord in such a state, she must’ve decided to be considerate.

Even though lunch appeared without a word, the first thing I felt wasn’t gratitude.

“What’s this?”

It was curiosity.

“Pasta.”

Rena answered matter-of-factly, but it wasn’t the response I was expecting.

The dish on the plate was clearly pasta. Ground meat was piled high on top, with a snowfall of grated cheese. The sauce clinging to the noodles suggested it was Bolognese, not meat sauce.

I could tell what the dish was at a glance. So, what about this Bolognese made me curious?

“Since when did we have pasta like this at home?”

The noodles were thin and wide, like ribbons, which sparked the question mark in my mind.

“It’s homemade.”

“Oh… you made it?”

“Yes, I made it.”

I see. That explains why Rena wasn’t puzzled but rather proud—she was showing off.

Rena first came to this house in May. Back then, she couldn’t even hold a knife properly and had zero cooking experience. Now, in December, she’s making pasta from scratch. True to her self-proclaimed genius, her growth rate is astonishing.

“Let’s eat.”

“Let’s eat.”

We sat facing each other and clasped our hands together.

When was the last time I’d clasped my hands before a meal?

For me, expressing gratitude before eating had always been something I did to avoid being scolded. If no one was around to scold me, it became unnecessary. Without a sense of gratitude, there was no need for itadakimasu or any of that.

Saying it naturally became a habit after Rena arrived. The daily meals that appeared without fail made me genuinely grateful. Because I didn’t take it for granted, gratitude naturally spilled from my lips. And now, it had finally become a natural gesture.

“…Things have changed, huh?”

“What has?”

“Nothing, never mind.”

I twirled a forkful of pasta, loaded with ground meat, and stuffed it into my mouth. “This is amazing,” I said, my vocabulary failing me. Rena’s puzzled expression quickly turned into a smile. She seemed to understand that this wasn’t just a throwaway comment but a genuine reaction.

Following my lead, Rena took her first bite. She must’ve tasted it beforehand, but she seemed pleased that it turned out as expected.

For a while after coming to this house, Rena had eaten on the other side of the sliding door. Recently, she’d been eating at the folding table behind me while I worked at my computer. Sharing the same space while eating had become the norm.

But eating face-to-face like this was a first.

Is this the face Rena makes when she eats?

As I stared at her face, she noticed and shot me a look mixed with resentment and embarrassment, her eyes narrowing in protest.

If I teased her and she stopped eating with me, I’d be in trouble. Since the fault was mine, I decided to brush it off quietly.

“Anyway, when did you learn to make something like this?”

I lifted a forkful of pasta, examining it closely. No matter how much I stared, the cooking process wasn’t written on it.

“Yesterday. It was my first time making it, but I’m glad it turned out well.”

“Yesterday… Seriously, what video inspired you this time?”

Rena tends to rely more on cooking videos than recipe websites.

These cooking videos turn the cooks themselves into entertainers. What starts as a search for recipes ends with the main topic becoming a bonus, and the cook becoming the main attraction.

The ultimate result of this obsession is watching a cooking researcher drink and being satisfied with the video. Everything after that is just extra.

Rena doesn’t stop at the extras—she recreates the dishes inspired by the videos. Even if they’re at the level of a joke. Once, she went so far as to stuff sixty-one cloves of garlic into a single dish.

This time, too, she must’ve been inspired by a video and decided to give it a try.

“This time, it wasn’t a video that started it.”

But it seemed I was wrong.

“It was the result of thinking, How can I use this up?”

“Use it up?”

“Senpai, remember when you accidentally bought bread flour the other day?”

“Oh yeah, I did mess up like that.”

It was a mistake I made while lining up during a sale. I only saw the word “flour” and grabbed it. For a moment, I thought the packaging looked different, and it did say “bread flour,” but I got distracted by something else.

“I couldn’t just throw it away.”

“But if I just put it on the shelf, it’d become a legacy for future generations.”

“Senpai has already proven that.”

Rena said with an exaggerated tone.

The legacy I left for future generations was the collection of cooking tools I bought on a drunken whim but never used. Forgotten until Rena unearthed them.

“When I thought about bread flour, I figured I’d look up bread recipes…”

“And?”

“Bread flour, sugar, salt, milk, dry yeast. I saw that and quietly closed the page.”

“It’s not like those are expensive, but… dry yeast is a bit much.”

“Buying that would defeat the purpose.”

Rena gave a troubled, wry smile.

The goal wasn’t to challenge myself to make bread but to use up the bread flour. Buying something I’d never used before would, as Rena said, defeat the purpose. Using only what was already at home was the essence of avoiding waste.

“But with pasta, all the ingredients were already at home.”

“Even so, it’s impressive you decided to try it. I’d think the hurdle was too high and wouldn’t even attempt it.”

“At first, I thought it was too high for me too.”

“You thought so?”

“But when I tried it, it turned out to be surprisingly easy.”

Rena said it as if stating the obvious, without the usual pride of a self-proclaimed genius.

“Of course, it wasn’t easy easy. Kneading and stretching the dough was tough.”

“But it wasn’t as hard as you thought, huh?”

“It wasn’t as daunting as I’d imagined. I was almost disappointed.”

It was the satisfaction of clearing a hurdle I thought was high with ease.

When facing a challenge, whether you can overcome it depends on the ruler of subjectivity in your mind.

Even if you have the ability to clear the hurdle, hesitation and giving up come from that ruler being off. And the biggest factor distorting that ruler is confidence.

Lack of confidence makes the hurdle seem higher than it is, convincing you that you can’t clear it. It steals the courage to try.

Rena had enough confidence to attempt making pasta. Even if she didn’t think she could clear the hurdle easily, she had enough belief in herself to try.

As a result, she cleared the hurdle effortlessly. That must’ve given her even more confidence, which would lead to her next challenge.

Overcoming tough challenges and turning difficult tasks into past experiences—that’s what people call growth.

Rena’s joy comes from feeling that growth.

I feel Rena’s growth more than she does herself.

When Rena first ran away from home, she had no skills useful in society and couldn’t even express her own thoughts. She was just a kid who was good at studying. Throwing a stone into a crowd would’ve been more socially useful.

Now, I can’t imagine life without her. She’s become an irreplaceable asset, working hard day and night.

Does Rena realize this? Maybe because this is the first time we’ve eaten face-to-face, her words flow naturally without relying on her hands.

The social anxiety and stuttering that once defined her are nowhere to be seen.

The child who called herself a genius but lacked confidence has grown this much.

Rena, who dropped out on the first day of high school because her heart broke in seconds. But her environment wasn’t bad. She didn’t face malicious classmates—she just ran away from the difficulty of interacting with others.

Society calls that being spoiled.

Just one more day, try a little harder.

If someone had been there to give Rena the confidence she lacked… our lives might’ve never crossed, and things could’ve been very different.

“What’s wrong?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing…”

Rena was hesitantly watching my expression. Maybe she was worried the food didn’t suit my taste since my fork had stopped moving.

“I’m just really tired today. Zoned out for a bit.”

“Hehe, you’ve worked hard.”

Realizing her worry was unfounded, Rena smiled and praised me. It was a spur-of-the-moment excuse, but it wasn’t a lie that I was exhausted.

I stuffed my mouth with a twirl of pasta, trying to replenish the calories I’d burned.

“But who’d have thought we’d have handmade noodles on the table one day?”

“Not too long ago, I hadn’t even touched a knife.”

“Thinking about it, our head chef’s progress is astonishing. Soon, you’ll be asking for pasta-specific flour.”

“You mean semolina flour?”

“See? You’re already using fancy foreign words.”

I made an exaggerated bitter face, and Rena covered her mouth, amused.

“I bet you’ve been scouring online stores for pasta machines, huh?”

“Senpai, are you psychic?”

“It’s human nature to want specialized tools when starting something new. So, are they expensive?”

“It varies. I’ve never seen one in person, so I have no idea which is good.”

“The cheap ones probably break easily, and the expensive ones are out of the question, right?”

“Exactly.”

“How much is the one you’re eyeing?”

“Hmm… a little over 10,000 yen.”

Rena tilted her head, looking at the ceiling as she spoke.

A little over 10,000 yen… Well, that’s not too bad.

“Should we get it, then?”

“Huh…”

“You want it, don’t you? The pasta machine.”

Rena’s eyes widened, and her mouth hung open. The unexpected proposal left her speechless.

“…Is that okay?”

“You’re not the type to give up after three days.”

“Of course not.”

“You’ve done well so far, and you’re motivated. If you want to take it seriously, go for it.”

Rena’s mouth stayed open as she fell silent. After a moment, her emotions caught up, and her face lit up brightly.

But that brightness faded quickly.

“Meow…”

A carefree, short meow drew our attention in unison.

It came from the three-tiered altar I’d bought online. Whiskey bottles and offerings from the landlady were placed on it, with eroge character figurines sitting proudly at the top. It was like flipping off religious figures.

As of today, that blasphemous display had completely changed.

The blasphemous items were all removed, and only a dome-shaped pet bed sat majestically on the top tier, like a throne.

The ruler of this black throne was yawning widely.

On his first day, Kurosuke had already established himself as the embodiment of the haunted house.

“You’re so carefree. Meanwhile, my body’s falling apart because of you.”

“Meow.”

Kurosuke, still curled up, gave me a sidelong glance. It didn’t feel like he was saying, Good job, but more like, How pitiful. They say cat owners are servants to their cats, and Kurosuke’s attitude was exactly that.

“…Tch.”

Getting angry at a cat for being rude would just show how petty I was. I muttered one complaint about Kurosuke’s attitude and turned my attention back to Rena.

Rena, who usually sided with Kurosuke, would probably tease me with a smirk. But instead—

“…Huh?”

She was staring intently at Kurosuke, her mind seemingly elsewhere.

The joy that had bloomed on her face was now mixed with another emotion. It wasn’t that the petals had closed—they’d fallen. It was as if, right after being given a dream, she’d remembered she had to face reality.

“What’s wrong, Rena?”

“Ah, um…”

Rena turned to me, flustered, but her gaze was scattered. She wasn’t looking for an excuse—she was searching for the right words to consider my feelings.

She gently placed her hands on her chest.

“Um… actually, it’s fine.”

“What is?”

“The pasta machine. I don’t need it after all.”

She’d been so happy about it earlier. Why the sudden change?

“Why not?”

“I’ve only made pasta once. Buying tools right away feels… off.”

“But having the right tools would boost your motivation, right?”

“It would, but… then I’d start wanting things like aluminum pans.”

“I’ll buy those too. If it means delicious pasta, it’s worth it.”

“…Actually, I’m also interested in making bread.”

“That’s great. Homemade bread in the morning would definitely be delicious.”

“But with our current microwave oven, it’s too small. I’d outgrow it quickly.”

Our microwave oven is a small, single-person size. It’s barely enough for a convenience store bento.

“Then we’ll replace it when the time comes.”

“Oh, and we’re almost out of curry powder… I’d like to try experimenting with spices too.”

“Even I know that’s a rabbit hole.”

“Yes, it’s a rabbit hole. There’s no end to it.”

Rena furrowed her brows, looking troubled.

“If I keep wanting this and that, it’ll never end. So I’ll stop here.”

Rena said it so casually.

We’ve been living under the same roof for seven months now. I could tell this was her true feelings, but she was hiding her real thoughts behind them.

This was the smile of a child who’s good at giving up, convincing herself she doesn’t need something to reassure others.

Rena quietly turned her gaze to Kurosuke.

“Having Kurosuke here is enough for me.”

She spoke with genuine joy, as if cherishing something precious.

Ah… I see.

I realized what Rena was hiding, and my stomach sank.

When we decided to take in Kurosuke, I looked up the costs of owning a cat.

It’s about 133,000 yen a year. That’s the bare minimum. We haven’t felt it yet because there haven’t been any initial expenses, but it’s clear the costs will add up.

As a low-level office worker, I’ve never struggled with money. Sure, I’ve come home late every day, groaning in exhaustion, but I’ve never gone hungry.

After all, I know my limits.

I don’t flaunt brand-name items to show off.

I don’t get involved with women at bars.

The last time I went on a trip was during a school excursion. Since I started hanging out at Gami’s place, even cracking open a can of beer at home feels like a luxury.

My life isn’t exactly ascetic, but it’s far from lavish.

I entertain myself with cheap hobbies while saving a bit each month. Living alone, I could manage a comfortable life.

Then Rena came along, and my monthly savings decreased. Now, with Kurosuke added, I wonder how much more they’ll shrink next month.

I’ve told Rena how much I earn. She knows our monthly expenses for food, utilities, and other fixed costs.

The money I gave Rena hasn’t been touched yet. I told her I’d only consider using it if our monthly balance went into the red.

That’s why Rena held back.

It’s just a little over 10,000 yen—not a big deal.

Yet, I made a child hesitate over something so trivial.

“I see…”

For the first time in my life, I felt pathetic.

◆

The default ambient noise at work is the sound of typing, sighs, and clicks of the tongue. Having experienced offices that felt like slums, with slamming desks and shouting, this place is like a field of butterflies. Though, to someone without tolerance, it might look more like a rough neighborhood.

“Um, excuse me…”

The voice was hesitant, as if afraid of touching a burn scar.

The stone he’d mustered the courage to throw was quickly swallowed by the default office noise. Typing sounds were one thing, but unrelated clicks of the tongue also rang out.

I didn’t need to turn my head to know who’d been struck by this misfortune. It was the replacement for the runaway slave. A promising new hire chosen to fill a position that had been vacant for years.

At 21 years old, his work performance was the absolute worst among the replacements I’d seen over the years. He was utterly useless. Yet, he wasn’t a replacement from a slave ship—he was hired directly by the company despite having no work experience. Everyone in this office understood what that meant.

“Um… excuse me…”

But no one responded. It was probably work-related, but I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him.

“Tamachi-san, do you have a moment?”

“Huh, me?”

I turned around in surprise to see the new hire standing there. Perhaps thinking he’d been ignored, his eyes behind his clunky black-framed glasses looked uneasy.

I was caught off guard because I’d been treating this as someone else’s problem.

“Uh, what’s up… Tokuda?”

I hesitated because, as a working adult, getting someone’s name wrong is regrettable. I’d never called him by his name before, so I wondered, Wait, is it Tokuda?

“I need you to check something.”

“Check?”

“Yes, I’ve reached a stopping point. Could you take a look?”

Tokuda spoke nervously but clearly, without averting his eyes.

Even though we didn’t treat him as a full-fledged team member, Tokuda was given proper work.

Though “work” was more like helping with dinner prep. It was like letting a child who’d just learned to use a knife chop onions, checking their progress after each one.

Honestly, it’d be easier if he weren’t here. Without having to guide him, I could finish the work much faster on my own.

But raising a newbie is like that. In the long run, it’s not a waste, and I went through the same phase.

Given how Tokuda was being treated, I couldn’t brush him off like the previous slaves. Honestly, I had some expectations for him.

“What about Katagiri-san?”

But I couldn’t help wondering why he’d approached me.

Tokuda’s training had been entrusted to Katagiri-san. It wasn’t just because she was the team leader. It was her nature—she couldn’t outright refuse tasks pushed onto her. That’s how our leader, Katagiri, came to be.

“Dentist.”

The colleague next to me, armed with headphones, muttered.

“Oh, right. She said she’d leave around 3:30.”

I remembered her saying during the morning meeting that she’d leave around 3:30.

Glancing at the bottom right of my monitor, I saw it was already 4:30. Just thirty minutes until the end of the workday.

I glanced at my colleague with hope.

“Katagiri-san should be back soon, right?”

“Last time, she made me wait 45 minutes.”

“Huh? She had an appointment, right?”

“Tamachi, have you ever been to the dentist?”

“I’ve never had a single cavity in my life.”

“Dentist appointments are always 30 minutes late. Always.”

“Ugh… seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Without taking his eyes off the screen, my colleague calmly explained the dark side of dentist appointments.

While Katagiri-san was suffering from a toothache, I was getting a headache.

If I could’ve just focused on my own work, I could’ve finished at a good stopping point and left without overtime…

Why had Tokuda chosen me, someone he’d never spoken to before? My desk was at the far end of the office, far from Tokuda’s.

I quickly figured out the reason after scanning the office.

Everyone was wearing headphones or earbuds, loudly declaring, Don’t talk to me. Even the colleague next to me was the same. It was obvious he wasn’t listening to music since we were having a conversation.

The new hire had spotted the fool who’d neglected to arm himself with headphones.

I almost sighed but held it in.

Looking at Tokuda, I saw he was desperately trying to maintain a serious expression.

From my exchange with my colleague, it was clear I found this bothersome. He was trying to keep it together, but beneath that, he must’ve been plagued by anxiety, impatience, and fear. I’d been there before.

Tokuda must’ve expected this outcome.

He could’ve just pretended to work until Katagiri-san returned. Instead, he chose to take his work seriously and make progress—a commendable trait for a working adult.

After all, he was the promising new hire Sasaki-san had brought in.

“Well, if Katagiri-san isn’t here, I guess I have no choice. I’ll take a look.”

What comes from above must be passed down.

I figured I’d better help him out with a smile, or I’d be cursed otherwise.

◆

In the end, I ended up working an hour of overtime.

I’d planned to just check his work, but perhaps because I treated him kindly instead of being curt, he quickly opened up to me. I was bombarded with questions.

It’s great that he’s eager to become a full-fledged team member, but because of that, I was stuck with him until Katagiri-san returned. By the time I finished my own work, it was this late.

It was winter, December.

Even though it was just past 6 PM, the sun had already set.

The pedestrian deck connected to the station was adorned with Christmas illuminations. Most of the people bathed in that dazzling light weren’t couples but salarymen heading home.

I, too, was one of them.

“Oh, isn’t that Tamachi?”

As I walked the sorrowful Christmas road, a familiar voice called out to me.

Before I could even process whose voice it was, I reflexively turned around.

“Ah…”

Seeing an unexpected face, I let out a dumbfounded sound.

A stylish two-block haircut with volume, paired with a tasteful camel coat. His neat appearance alone made him look youthful, a stark contrast to my fellow coworkers in their late twenties. …No, perhaps this was what the average working adult looked like. It wasn’t that he looked young—it was that my coworkers looked old.

The mustache and beard he hadn’t grown before now made him look appropriately mature for his age.

“Long time no see, Tamachi.”

With a friendly attitude, he approached and gave my shoulder a light tap.

“It’s been a while, Mukai-san.”

My first words were awkward and uninspired.

There’s one other person, besides Sasaki-san, whom I owe a debt of gratitude to. My benefactor, who looked out for me when I was on the slave ship. That person is Mukai-san.

Since Mukai-san left the company after changing jobs, I hadn’t seen him once. We often went out for drinks after work, but we never interacted privately.

Running into him like this after work…

“Want to grab a drink?”

There was no way I could refuse.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t resist—I was genuinely happy about this unexpected reunion.

My feet, which were supposed to head toward the ticket gate, immediately turned around. We talked about trivial things like how cold it was, the flu outbreak, or a train accident involving a person, but the topic of Where should we go? never came up.

Yet, our feet didn’t stop. Without even discussing it, our destination was already decided.

The place had “yakitori” in its name, but it wasn’t a specialty shop. It was a wholesome izakaya run by young staff with dyed hair and piercings, devoid of any sleaziness. It wasn’t that they were particularly stylish—they just had to be to attract customers.

“Cheers!”

“Cheers!”

Seated at the counter, we toasted with draft beer.

“Man, it’s been a while. When was the last time we saw each other?”

“Since you left the company, Mukai-san.”

“Ah… how many years has it been?”

“You left the year I turned 22, so…”

“How old are you now?”

“I turned 26 this year.”

“Four years, huh… Time flies.”

Mukai-san muttered nostalgically as he reached for his smartphone on the table.

It wasn’t a notification—there was nothing he wanted to show me either.

“No wonder everything’s gone digital.”

He was using his phone to order another beer.

Scanning a QR code brought up a digital menu on his phone. The ordering system allowed you to place orders without calling a server.

I never thought I’d feel the passage of four years in this way.

“But doesn’t it feel a bit… soulless?”

Suddenly, Mukai-san let out a sigh tinged with melancholy.

“Soulless?”

“Since it was a place we frequented, we remembered the staff’s faces, right? It wasn’t just because we went there often—it was because we interacted with them.”

“Interaction, huh?”

“Remember Captain?”

“Oh, that’s nostalgic. Yeah, she was there.”

“Captain” wasn’t a role but the nickname of a part-timer. It came from Pirates of the Caribbean’s Jack Sparrow. It wasn’t that she looked like the actor—her messy hair sticking out from a bandana earned her the nickname.

“Captain’s first shift and first customer service experience was with us. She was so stiff and awkward, I wondered if she’d be okay.”

“But within a year, the other part-timers were relying on her, calling her Captain-san, Captain-san. I was impressed by how much she’d grown.”

“I think that’s why it feels so nostalgic—because we interacted with her every time we ordered. But now, it’s all done through a smartphone. It just feels… soulless.”

Mukai-san tapped his smartphone on the table.

It was like seeing a candy store we used to frequent replaced by a mixed-use building. He was probably feeling sentimental about the past.

Seeing my benefactor’s profile for the first time in four years, only one thought came to mind.

“Mukai-san. That line of thinking is dangerous.”

“What’s dangerous about it?”

“Because that’s the kind of thinking old people have when self-checkout is introduced.”

“Ah…”

His sentimentality vanished in an instant, and Mukai-san furrowed his brows sharply.

“It’s fine if you just think it feels soulless, but if you take that thought too far, it’s trouble. You start saying things like There’s no human warmth, I don’t feel like I’m being served, or I can’t feel the store’s sincerity or gratitude. It’s the birth of the customer is king mentality.”

“The spread of technology is wonderful. Long live the smart society!”

Mukai-san downed his beer mug and raised it high with exaggerated enthusiasm. His over-the-top attitude was amusing.

Rejecting something that’s become convenient and saying things were better when they were inconvenient is the height of foolishness. It’s just selfishness without considering others.

Soon, expecting human warmth in customer service might become a luxury beyond the reach of ordinary people.

“Excuse me! Two drafts, here you go!”

The refills Mukai-san had ordered arrived quickly. It seemed he’d ordered one for me too. I finished what was left in my mug and swapped it for the new one.

The server didn’t leave immediately but placed a small bowl on the table. It was the restaurant’s signature dish—a stew made with a whole chicken thigh.

We hadn’t ordered any appetizers yet, though.

“This is from the manager.”

“The manager?”

Mukai-san looked puzzled as he turned his gaze toward the counter.

The counter and kitchen were open, allowing us to watch the yakitori being grilled as we drank.

I made eye contact with a staff member wearing a bandana, skillfully flipping skewers. He nodded silently.

Seeing this, Mukai-san and I exchanged wide-eyed glances for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“She’s come this far, huh?”

“Who’d have thought she’d rise to become the captain of the store?”

Four years had passed since then—four years.

The once awkward and stiff part-timer had grown into someone trusted to run the store. Thanks to her, human warmth was still free.

“So, how’s it going on your end? Anything changed since I left?”

“Well, the hole you left was huge. A lot’s changed.”

“How so?”

“Katagiri-san’s overtime doubled.”

“Haha! Oh yeah, she took over after me. How’s she holding up?”

“Since she took your spot, she’s been working hard—though her catchphrase is I wish Mukai-san would come back…”

“Well, she’s not the type who likes overtime.”

“None of us grunts like overtime.”

“What about you?”

“It’s tough. Today, I ended up working an hour of overtime.”

“An hour of overtime, huh? You’ve grown up, Tamachi.”

“Thanks to you, I’ve been allowed to act all high and mighty.”

I responded to his sarcastic jab with an even cheekier remark.

“By the way, you’ve got that Tokuda guy now, right?”

“He’s the reason I ended up working overtime… Wait, you know about him?”

“I’m the one who introduced him to Sasaki-san. So, you’re the one looking after him, huh?”

Mukai-san smiled happily and tilted his beer mug. Meanwhile, my hand froze mid-air as I tried to take a sip, my eyes wide.

“Well… Katagiri-san’s handling his training.”

“Oh, really? Either way, I’m relieved.”

“Wait, what do you mean you introduced Tokuda?”

“He’s my wife’s cousin.”

“Wha— Wife!?”

I spat the beer I’d just sipped back into the mug, trying to regain my composure.

Staring intently at Mukai-san, I noticed he deliberately raised his mug with his left hand. The ring finger glinted silver under the restaurant’s lights.

I never paid much attention to people’s hands, so I hadn’t noticed.

“You… got married?”

“Two years ago. We had a kid six months ago.”

“A kid too…”

The changes over the past four years hit me like a tidal wave, leaving me utterly stunned.

“Well… congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

My surprise outweighed my joy, but Mukai-san seemed satisfied with my reaction.

“So, Tokuda’s your relative, huh…”

I wanted to pat myself on the back for helping him out earlier without treating him like a nuisance.

“He’s in a similar situation to what you were in, Tamachi.”

“Similar situation?”

“He was on the same kind of ship you used to be on.”

“…You mean a slave ship?”

“Right after high school. He had the drive but no luck. He was stuck doing tedious chores that didn’t help him grow.”

Gain experience at a major company.

Become an IT engineer from scratch.

We’ll teach you everything, so you can work with confidence.

It’s a common story for those lured by sweet promises onto slave ships.

The reality is endless menial tasks and bug checks. No matter how much experience you gain, your pay barely increases, and your skills don’t improve. It’s the dark side of multi-layered subcontracting.

While looking after him, I also chatted with Tokuda. He turned 21 this year. It’s sad to think he wasted his precious teenage years in such a place.

I was lucky to at least get to write code. Even among slaves, there’s always someone worse off.

“Saying hard work always pays off is irresponsible.”

“Yeah. Working hard in a place that treats you like a slave only raises your status as a slave. Calling that paying off is seriously irresponsible.”

“It’s not fun watching someone you’ve connected with get treated like disposable labor.”

“So, you asked Sasaki-san for help?”

“Our company only hires fresh graduates for training roles. I reached out as a last resort, and she agreed to meet him right away.”

“No offense, but I’m surprised Sasaki-san took him in. He doesn’t have much to show for his time there.”

“He’s been working in a terrible environment. He’s picked up some things.”

“Like what?”

“A slave mentality.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though I felt bad for Tokuda.

“Well, with that mentality and your recommendation, I guess Sasaki-san thought it was worth a shot.”

Our company is far from a top-tier hotel, but it functions well enough as a training ground. Compared to the slums, it’s easy mode.

“So, take good care of him. He might be a hassle for a while, but he’ll make things easier soon enough.”

“If you say so, I’ll do my best to help him—within my overtime limits.”

“He’s my beloved wife’s cousin. I’m counting on you.”

Mukai-san gave me a hearty pat on the back with exaggerated gestures.

Whether he realized it or not, this married man was casually showing off.

“Beloved wife, huh? Sounds like married life is going well.”

“Tamachi.”

“Yeah?”

“Marriage is great.”

“Huh… I can’t believe Mukai-san has turned into a marriage is great guy.”

“At least I’m not telling you to hurry up and get married.”

Instead of brushing it off, Mukai-san spoke with pride.

Nodding in agreement, I split the stewed chicken thigh in half. I placed one half on a small plate and handed the bowl back to Mukai-san.

“What’s so great about marriage?”

“Hmm…”

He seemed to be pondering, not because he couldn’t think of anything, but because he couldn’t decide on the best answer.

“I guess it’s my wife’s smile when she says welcome back. That alone makes all the work fatigue disappear.”

“Ah, that’s so sweet it’s burning me up.”

I stuffed a piece of chicken into my mouth and fanned my face dramatically.

“Also, no matter how late I come home, she always has a warm meal ready for me. Just for that, I can’t help but admire her.”

“Ah, I get that. Having a warm meal waiting for you without a word is something to be grateful for.”

“Right? Back in the day, I’d just microwave a convenience store bento and wash it down with beer. I used to live that pitiful life without a second thought.”

“I haven’t touched a sponge in so long, my hands are practically pristine.”

I waved one hand around while taking a sip of beer.

Mukai-san stared intently at my face.

“Tamachi.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve got a girl, don’t you?”

“…Huh?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mukai-san smirking.

…I messed up.

I’d let my guard down, empathizing with Mukai-san’s married life, and slipped up.

It was only my second drink. I wasn’t drunk, but I was definitely feeling loose. It was just so fun drinking with him after so long.

“I had a feeling from the start, but I guess I was right.”

“What do you mean, from the start?”

“When we decided to go drinking, you must’ve contacted someone, right? That awkward look on your face was because someone was waiting at home with dinner ready.”

“Ugh…”

I groaned at his sharp observation.

He was right. Rena was at home, preparing dinner and waiting for me. I felt guilty because I’d told her earlier that I wouldn’t need dinner tonight.

“So, Tamachi’s got a girl waiting at home with dinner ready, huh?”

“N-no, it’s not like that… I don’t have a girlfriend or anything.”

My voice was flat and awkward. Even in this pathetic state, I still wanted to keep Rena a secret.

I knew how painful it was to have no one waiting at home. So, I had to play the only card I had.

“It’s a rental girlfriend.”

“A rental girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I had to cancel my favorite girl.”

“Haha! Sure, let’s go with that.”

My desperate, pitiful excuse seemed to make his drink taste even better.

I covered my face in embarrassment. It would’ve been cooler to just laugh it off and invoke my right to remain silent.

“I get how you feel. I used to hide my wife too.”

“You were hiding her? Were you two together before you left the company?”

“I guess I was just too embarrassed to talk about it.”

Despite his words, Mukai-san looked relieved.

“After all, she was my first girlfriend. Who’d want to talk about that with coworkers?”

“Ah, yeah… I get it.”

“If you get it, that means you’ve been there too, huh?”

“Let’s not talk about me.”

I made a bitter face, and Mukai-san chuckled.

Suddenly, something occurred to me.

“Mukai-san, did you leave the company because of your wife?”

When Mukai-san told me he was quitting, it was like a bolt from the blue.

People who quit their jobs usually show signs or hints, but Mukai-san didn’t. He just suddenly announced two months before leaving that he was changing jobs.

He wasn’t dissatisfied with the company or his treatment. He casually told me over drinks that it was a career move.

That always puzzled me. Mukai-san, like the rest of us, wasn’t the type to want overtime. But aiming for career growth in a new place inevitably means more overtime. It’s not just work—your personal life takes a hit too.

“I realized my salary was too low.”

“Too low?”

“If I were to get married, my salary wouldn’t be enough to support a family for life.”

Mukai-san lowered his gaze.

“Before, I’d go drinking before days off, never cooked at home, and ate out all the time. I didn’t think I was living a life of deprivation, but I managed to save a decent amount. I had no trouble living alone and no worries about the future.”

“But then you met your wife… your girlfriend, and that changed?”

“I started going to places I’d never been before. I tried things I’d never had a chance to. What used to be enough for one person now had to cover two. That’s when I started paying attention to my wallet.”

“Did you insist on paying for everything, like the man should handle this?”

“She was a new graduate, so I wanted to show off a bit.”

I did the math in my head. When Mukai-san was 20, she would’ve been in middle school.

I swallowed the comment that almost slipped out. It felt like a boomerang waiting to come back at me.

It was better to just nod solemnly and stay quiet.

“Once I started thinking about marriage, I realized my wallet wasn’t enough to support a family. Living with just two adults might’ve been fine, but having a kid changes everything.”

“Doesn’t it cost over 20 million yen to raise one kid?”

“If that’s the case, the life I used to live wouldn’t cut it. It’s all about saving and restraint. Sacrifice, sacrifice, and more sacrifice. If the whole family can endure it, maybe we can let our kid choose the college they want.”

Mukai-san let out a sigh.

“I can’t just casually buy my kid a game console. Imagining that kind of life made me feel pathetic. That’s when I realized my salary was too low.”

He smiled wryly at his past self.

A dull ache hit my chest, and I swallowed the sound that almost escaped my lips.

What Mukai-san had realized was exactly what I’d thought a few days ago.

I’d made a child hesitate over something so trivial. I felt nothing but pathetic.

Mukai-san had imagined that future before it happened. To avoid such a pitiful future,

“So, that’s why you decided to change jobs?”

“Yeah. That place was a comfortable warm bath, but it wasn’t enough if I wanted to aim higher. I wasn’t wrong. The harder I worked at my new company, the bigger the rewards.”

He was rewarded for his efforts. To celebrate that joy, Mukai-san took a sip of beer and reached for his phone. Remembering we hadn’t ordered any snacks yet, he said, “Order whatever you want,” and I responded with a vague sound that was neither yes nor okay.

I didn’t want to feel pathetic about my child.

I never imagined Mukai-san had such thoughts when he left.

I’d even believed Mukai-san was someone who lived for himself. Yet, for the sake of someone who wasn’t even family yet—for the family that would come—he chose to leave his comfortable life and work hard in a new place.

I thought I’d gotten a little closer to him compared to my slave days, but now I felt even further away.

“But… wasn’t it hard?”

“What do you mean?”

“Not just the increased overtime, but having to study during your time off too, right?”

“I’ve earned quite a few certifications over these four years.”

“And you’ve got more time with your family too, right? Don’t you feel like you have no time for yourself anymore?”

“Yeah. Most of my time is spent on family and work. It’s been a while since I’ve had time for myself like this.”

Mukai-san flashed a bright smile.

The fact that his rare free time was spent drinking with me made me feel both guilty and embarrassed.

“Isn’t it hard, having all your time taken up by family and work?”

That’s why I was worried if he was really okay.

He’d lived freely on his own for so long. Now that he had a family, all that freedom was gone. Wasn’t it suffocating? He looked the same, but beneath the surface, was he struggling like a swan?

“Actually, it’s not hard at all.”

My worries were unfounded, as Mukai-san nodded confidently.

“I never had any real hobbies to begin with. Back when I was single, I just killed time with easy distractions. I realized I was just wasting my life.”

He had no regrets about his past life. In fact, he was self-deprecating about how boring it had been.

He treasured his time with his family like precious gems.

“Having a child changed everything. Kids grow up so fast. I want to be by their side as much as possible, to watch them grow. On the other hand, working an extra hour means I can buy milk. Two more hours, and I can get them clothes. Working until the last train means I can buy them toys.”

And his attitude toward work changed.

“Everything I’ve worked so hard for connects to protecting my wife and child. Thinking like that, overtime doesn’t feel like a burden at all.”

His radiant smile was almost blinding to me.

He had something to protect. For that, he wouldn’t hesitate to endure any hardship or push through any difficulty.

If it’s for the sake of protecting something, not for yourself, you can do anything. And in the end, that becomes the best thing for yourself.

Ah, this man has truly become an adult.

I’m just treated as an adult because I’ve aged. I could never call myself the same kind of adult as Mukai-san.

It was presumptuous of me to worry about Mukai-san. I should’ve just quietly sought his wisdom as an adult.

“By the way, can I ask something unpleasant?”

“Go ahead.”

“Aren’t you… scared?”

“Scared? Of what?”

“What if something unfortunate happens, and you lose your family just like that? Wouldn’t you feel like, What was all that hard work for? Doesn’t that scare you?”

“Of course it’s scary, but if you worry about that, you’ll never get anything done. What matters is the present.”

He dismissed my worries with a carefree expression.

“To avoid feeling pathetic in the future, I want to build up as much as I can. That’s how I want to cherish my family. If a meteor hits, we’ll deal with it then.”