Checking Out at 5:15 PM Chapter 12: The Slump’s End, an Unexpected Promise, and Le Labo (Patreon)

“That was a nice lunch.”

I let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back on the wooden bench and stretching my arms high above my head. The cool shade and the quiet atmosphere of the courtyard had completely refreshed me, leaving me perfectly ready to tackle the rest of my shift.

“Hmm~!”

Beside me, Yui subconsciously mirrored my actions. She closed her eyes and stretched her arms high into the air.

However, unlike me, Yui was currently housing two incredibly dangerous, gravity-defying weapons under her oversized cardigan. As she stretched, arching her back slightly, the heavy fabric pulled taut. The sheer volume of her chest was suddenly hoisted upward, pressing aggressively against the thin material of her shirt.

Damn it.

I immediately snapped my head forward, focusing all of my sheer willpower on a completely uninteresting crack in the concrete courtyard wall. If I looked for even a second longer, my gaze would be undeniably inappropriate.

“Thank you for showing me this place, Motoi-san,” Yui said softly, lowering her arms. “And... for everything else.”

She wasn’t entirely sure how to describe the feeling swelling in her chest. For the first time since she had hit her devastating slump, she actually felt like she could breathe. The heavy, suffocating tension that usually knotted her shoulders was gone. Something warm and entirely new was stirring in her heart. She wasn't sure what it was yet, but she had a distinct feeling she could find the answer—as long as she could stay by Motoi’s side.

But... can I really? she wondered silently.

“No problem at all, Amami-san,” I smiled, glancing down at my wristwatch. “It’s almost time for my break to end. I need to head back inside before Kacho hunts me down. See you later.”

“Ah... yes. See you later.”

With a polite nod, I stood up and walked away. I couldn’t afford to be late clocking back in.

Yui didn’t try to stop me. She simply sat on the bench, staring at my retreating back in complete silence. A heavy sense of loss washed over her.

She assumed this was it. They had just parted ways, and the chances of a famous author and a local civil servant magically going out to lunch together again were basically zero. Even if they had started calling each other by their real names, she knew the reality of the situation: she was just a patron, and he was a librarian.

Was his kindness just the standard, mandatory hospitality of a government worker? Because she paid exorbitant taxes on her book royalties, was he just giving her slightly better customer service?

Was that really all it was?

Even if it was, she couldn't deny how glad she was that she had followed him. If she hadn't, her day would have been nothing but the same gray, bleak routine—slouching in an ergonomic chair, staring blankly at a screen, and hating herself.

She didn't want to cause him any more trouble. She knew exactly why he chose this job. He had told Misaki, and she had heard him.

To go home at 5:15 PM. Sharp. No drama.

That peaceful daily routine was something he desperately wanted to protect. She could only stare at him in a daze, feeling a deep, aching jealousy. He had stability; she had utter instability. Being a writer was sometimes so painful that it made her want to quit, pouring her soul onto a page only for the words to refuse to come.

But a small, selfish part of her didn't want to stop. Just like she wanted a little more time with him. It didn't have to be every day, but... maybe... from time to time...

Before her brain could talk her out of it, Yui shot up from the bench. It was completely out of character, but she called out to him.

“Um... M-Motoi-san! P-Please w-wait a moment!”

“Yes?” I stopped and turned around, looking at her in genuine surprise.

“If... if it isn’t a bother...” Yui clutched the fabric of her cardigan over her chest, her voice trembling nervously. “C-Could we... could we... have lunch together again sometime?”

“..................”

I stood there, completely stunned for a moment. My eyes were entirely focused on her shy, trembling figure standing in the shade. I had genuinely been worried that inviting her to lunch today might have been an unwanted, overstepping kindness.

But hearing those words from her, knowing I had actually managed to brighten her day, made a warm feeling spread through my chest.

I smiled softly. “Of course. Let’s eat together again. Next time, I’ll show you some even more interesting spots around town.”

Yui’s eyes widened, her entire face lighting up.

“...Just please be a little on me on the place where you want to bring me, okay?”

Yui felt that a normal place might be good.

“It won’t be fun, then.”

“...................” Yui.

I teased with a laugh, waving my hand as I turned back toward the library doors. “See you later, Amami-san.”

“Yeah...”

Yui waved back. A soft, radiant smile—one she hadn't worn in years—finally graced her face. The gloomy, oppressive clouds that had been suffocating her creativity slowly dissipated, replaced by the bright, clear Kamakura sun. She finally had something to look forward to.

Meanwhile, the moment I stepped back into the air-conditioned staff room, my boss immediately ambushed me.

“Did you actually go out to eat lunch today?” Misaki asked, her sharp eyes scanning me.

“Yes, Kacho,” I nodded calmly, clocking back in.

“Well, don’t forget about our appointment later,” she warned, crossing her arms.

Misaki didn’t actually care what I did on my lunch break, but she needed to ensure I hadn't forgotten the crucial meeting with the PR representative from the Tokyo publisher.

“Don’t worry, Kacho. I remember perfectly.”

Of course, I remembered. How could I forget? Last night’s "prep work" for this meeting involved sitting in a cramped office where her thighs pressed tightly against mine, and the intoxicating scent of her citrus-floral perfume had practically short-circuited my brain.

Just the memory of it seemed to make the air between us suddenly awkward. I noticed a faint, pink flush creeping up Misaki's neck. But this was a professional workplace; neither of us could afford to acknowledge the inappropriate tension.

“Have you eaten yet, Kacho?” I asked, swiftly changing the subject.

“I have,” Misaki nodded defensively. “Eating is important. I can’t focus on municipal reports if my blood sugar crashes.”

Unlike other women who constantly starved themselves on trendy diets, Misaki’s job was entirely too mentally demanding to skip meals.

“Where did you buy your bento?”

“Hmm? Well...” She looked away slightly. “I had a protein snack bar, a jelly energy pouch, and a large black coffee.”

“.....................”

I gave her an incredibly flat, judgmental stare.

“What? What’s with that look?!” Misaki narrowed her eyes, her authority returning. “You know exactly how buried in paperwork I am today! Do you honestly think I have the time to go out and wait in line at a restaurant?”

“Have you ever thought about just contacting a local bento shop and having them deliver to the staff room?” I suggested logically.

“If the staff want food, they can just walk there themselves.”

“Sure, but some people are just too busy, right? Tons of corporate offices set up contracts with local shops. We just leave a collection box for the cash, write down our orders, and the shop drops the food off right at the front desk.”

I was actually speaking purely out of self-interest. Sometimes, I was entirely too lazy to leave the building, especially on rainy days.

“Hmm...”

Misaki paused, actually considering it. She had seen other municipal branches do exactly this. And honestly, she was incredibly tired of surviving on artificial jelly pouches. She wanted real, warm food.

“Do you know a reliable bento shop nearby?” she asked.

“There’s one just down the street.” I instantly thought of Pegasus Bento. The owner was unhinged, but the food was flawless. “Do you want me to call the owner and set it up?”

“Is that possible to do today?”

“I can call him right now.”

“Alright, let me speak with the owner after the publisher appointment later. Can I leave the initial setup to you?”

“Of course.”

I nodded, stepping away to make the call. It was an easy task. I dialed the shop, and the owner eagerly agreed to come to the library right after the lunch rush later to pitch his delivery menu.

When I relayed the good news to Misaki, she seemed incredibly pleased. It was a massive win for the staff's morale.

“But... what if not enough staff actually order anything?” Misaki suddenly worried, tapping her pen against her chin. “If the volume is too low, the shop might cancel the arrangement.”

“Don't worry. I know for a fact that at least you will buy them, Kacho.”

“..............”

Misaki stopped tapping her pen. She slowly looked up, glaring daggers at me.

“So, you’re just assuming I can’t cook?” she challenged, her voice dropping dangerously low.

“I never said that,” I raised my hands in surrender. “But cooking for one is exhausting. And do you even have the time to cook with your overtime schedule?”

“I do! Of course I do!” Misaki puffed out her chest, completely abandoning her "Iron Lady" persona as a fierce, stubborn pride took over. “I’ll show you exactly how good my cooking is if you don’t believe me!”

Why are you getting so incredibly competitive about whether you can cook?!

I wanted to point out how childish she was acting, but seeing my gorgeous, usually terrifying boss pouting like a teenager was undeniably cute. I let out a soft sigh, ready to apologize, as I knew that I might have said too much, since even if the world didn’t expect women to cook at the current social standard, she suddenly dropped a bombshell.

“On our next day off, come to my apartment. I’ll personally cook lunch for you and prove it!”

“...Kacho?”

“Don’t forget!” she snapped, her face entirely flushed as she quickly turned back to her paperwork, effectively dismissing me.

“.....................”

There were a million things I wanted to say.

Unlike normal corporate workers who got weekends off, library staff operated on a rotating shift schedule. Our "weekends" often fell randomly in the middle of the week. Coincidentally, both Misaki and I have the exact same day off coming up tomorrow.

And now, I was apparently spending my precious, hard-earned day of rest alone in my boss's apartment.

“Alright, Kacho,” I nodded slowly, hiding a smirk. “I’m looking forward to tasting your cooking.”

Misaki didn't reply, but I could see the tips of her ears burning red.

As I excused myself to head out to the library floor, Misaki was left entirely alone in the office. The sheer panic of what she had just impulsively commanded finally set in.

Motoi is coming to my apartment.

She abruptly stood up from her desk.

I need to clean my room! Oh my god, I left my laundry basket out! I need to hide my underwear!

Ignorant of my boss's internal meltdown, I focused entirely on my afternoon task.

Books didn't magically return themselves to the shelves. I spent the next two hours pushing a heavy, squeaky metal cart through the dim, quiet aisles, meticulously re-shelving mountains of returned novels using the Dewey Decimal System. Honestly, I vastly preferred shelving to working the front desk. Out here, I didn't have to deal with angry patrons, screaming children, or mature housewives trying to seduce me over a barcode scanner.

It was a relaxing job that trained both my muscles and my brain.

Yet, despite the peace, my mind was running wild. How was it possible that within a single week, I was casually having lunch with a millionaire bestselling author and being invited into the private apartment of my incredibly strict, gorgeous boss?

Just as I pushed my cart out of the history section and toward the front reference desk, a scent hit me.

It was completely out of place in a municipal library. A sophisticated, magnetic, and slightly mischievous trail of perfume hung heavily in the air, cutting right through the dusty scent of old paper.

Le Labo Another 13.

I froze, my grip tightening on the metal handle of the book cart. It was incredibly rare to smell a niche, luxury fragrance like that all the way out here in Kamakura. And worse, it was a scent I knew intimately. It belonged to a ghost from my past.

“Excuse me,” a crisp, highly professional woman's voice rang out across the front desk. “My name is Hayami Aoi from K-Publishing in Tokyo. I have an appointment with Katsuragi Misaki, the Section Chief of this library.”

“..................”

I stood frozen in the aisle, staring through the gap in the bookshelves at the woman standing at the desk.

She wore a sharp, impeccably tailored designer suit, her hair styled with ruthless perfection. She looked like a woman who could conquer the world.

Yes. It was exactly who I thought it was.

My former university girlfriend, Hayami Aoi.