Checking Out at 5:15 PM Chapter 13: Reconnecting Over Taxpayer Money (Patreon)

“She cut her hair short...”

I couldn’t help but murmur the observation under my breath.

When we were together, Aoi had long, flowing dark hair. I used to love holding it, running my fingers through the soft strands when she fell asleep against my shoulder. But now, she had chopped it into a sharp, incredibly stylish bob that perfectly framed her slender, pale neck. It gave her the undeniable aura of a perfect, elite Tokyo office lady.

If Misaki, my current boss, commanded a room with her mature, imposing presence, Aoi was pure, streamlined corporate efficiency. She possessed a slender, model-like figure, dressed impeccably in fitted ankle-length slacks that accentuated her long legs, a crisp silk blouse, and a chic trench coat draped casually over her shoulders. She looked like she belonged on the glossy cover of a Tokyo business magazine, radiating the kind of fast-paced, metropolitan confidence that made me instinctively want to retreat into the shadows.

She had evolved, leaving the relaxed college days far behind her.

“Ah... um... wait a moment, please.”

The librarian on duty at the front desk was visibly sweating. When Aoi had confidently marched up and announced she had an appointment with Kacho, the entire staff froze. K-Publishing was one of the largest, most aggressive publishing conglomerates in the country, and Aoi looked like a shark swimming into a tank of goldfish.

By nature, most librarians are herbivores. They love books, quiet environments, and peaceful routines. Their daily crises consisted of finding a misplaced novel or calming down a grumpy elderly patron. So, when an extroverted, high-powered Tokyo executive walked in radiating intense corporate energy, it triggered the librarians' "fight or flight" response—like a small antelope suddenly realizing a tiger had wandered into its grazing field.

The staff member currently dealing with Aoi looked desperately around the room, silently begging for backup. But unfortunately, the rest of the staff had miraculously found extremely urgent tasks on the other side of the room, leaving her completely stranded.

I let out a soft sigh and stepped out from behind a cart of returned books.

“Tanaka-san, could you take over shelving this cart for me? I’ll escort our guest back to the Kacho’s office.”

“Ah! Yes! Thank you, Motoi-kun!” Tanaka practically sobbed in relief, immediately grabbing the cart and fleeing down the nearest aisle.

As I approached the front desk, I could clearly see the stunned, wide-eyed expression on Aoi’s face as she recognized me. But I kept my expression perfectly smooth and professional.

“My name is Motoi Shizuki,” I said, bowing politely as if I had never seen her naked in my life. “You must be the PR representative from K-Publishing, correct? I’ve heard about your appointment from Kacho. Please, let me show you to her office.”

“Ah... yes. Thank you, Shi—” Aoi started, almost slipping up and using my first name before quickly correcting herself. Her sharp eyes darted around to ensure no one was listening. “...Thank you, Motoi-san.”

“Right this way, please.”

I gave her a flawless, polite customer-service smile and turned on my heel, leading her past the front desk and toward the restricted administrative area. A collective sigh of relief echoed from the staff as we walked away. None of them wanted to deal with the terrifying Tokyo rep, though I knew they were definitely whispering about why someone from K-Publishing had come all the way down to Kamakura.

As soon as we passed through the heavy wooden doors into the private back hallway where no one was around, Aoi’s professional facade instantly cracked.

“How long were you planning on pretending you didn't know me?” she hissed, matching my pace.

“If I had walked up and said, 'Hey, it’s been a while,' in front of my coworkers, they would have immediately assumed you used a personal connection to secure this pitch,” I replied calmly, not looking back. “You hate people doubting your merit, don’t you?”

“You have always been so good at making excuses, Shizuki.”

Hearing her use my first name sent a strange, nostalgic wave through my chest. It had been a long time since anyone other than my parents had called me that. Even with the sharp new haircut and the intimidating designer clothes, the mischievous, slightly annoyed side-eye she was currently giving me was exactly the same as it had been back in university.

“But... you are right. Thank you for that,” she admitted softly.

When we reached the end of the hallway, I stopped and turned to face her. Our eyes finally met directly.

For a brief second, Aoi looked away, staring down at her expensive leather heels. She had a terrible habit of breaking eye contact when she was feeling shy or vulnerable, and apparently, the high-stress corporate world hadn't cured her of it. But she quickly forced her gaze back up, meeting my eyes with a renewed, fierce determination.

“Still, it’s incredibly convenient that you work here,” she said, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. She took a step closer, breaking my personal space. The scent of her Le Labo perfume mixed with the crisp, clean rustle of her silk blouse. She leaned in slightly, looking up at me through her long eyelashes with an undeniable puppy-dog gaze. “Help me out during the pitch later, okay? Convince your boss to buy as much inventory from my catalog as possible.”

“................”

I was completely speechless. I stared down at her and rolled my eyes.

“Do you honestly think municipal library funding comes out of my personal pockets?” I asked flatly. “It’s taxpayer money, Aoi. How on earth can I just hand it over to my ex-girlfriend?”

If it were my own money, I might have been tempted just to get her to stop looking at me like that, but this was public funding. I had limits.

“Besides, I’m just a rookie here. My opinion doesn't carry much weight.”

Misaki had specifically asked me to sit in on this meeting, but my actual role was just to observe and take notes while she ruthlessly shut down Aoi’s sales tactics. Honestly, I felt a little bad for Aoi. Taking the train from Tokyo to Kamakura took over an hour, and she had clearly rushed straight here. The commute must have taken a toll on her.

But then again, we were both adults now. Even if I felt a lingering sense of empathy because of our past, this was the brutal, high-stress career path she had deliberately chosen. Looking at her, I felt incredibly validated in my decision to become a civil servant with a fifteen-minute walking commute.

“Are you actually confident in the books you’re pushing today?” I asked.

“Obviously,” Aoi nodded, her chin tilting up in pride. “If I didn’t believe in my catalog, I wouldn't have bothered taking the train all the way out here.”

“That’s good, then.”

I knew Aoi was brilliant. She wouldn't crumble easily under Misaki’s terrifying interrogations. Though what I didn't know at the time was just how fierce the clash between my strict boss and my ambitious ex-girlfriend was about to be, and how desperately I would have to intervene, so my boss wouldn’t be at the mercy of my ambitious ex-girlfriend and wouldn't become a sucker who would buy all of the inventory from the catalog.

“But seriously... why are you here?” Aoi asked, her expression turning incredibly serious. She looked me up and down, taking in my cheap uniform vest. “With your Tier 1 qualifications, aren't your coworkers extremely hostile toward you?”

Aoi knew exactly how grueling the Tier 1 Civil Servant exams were. She knew I was massively overqualified for a desk job at a municipal library. In the rigid hierarchy of civil service, a Tier 1 passing score meant that after my mandatory two-year rookie period, I would instantly outrank almost everyone in this building. People were inherently jealous. She was worried that my coworkers would resent me, knowing that in a few years, I could be the one sitting in City Hall deciding whether they got transferred to a dead-end branch in Hokkaido.

“My coworkers are all incredibly nice,” I assured her. “We chat, we do our jobs, and we’ve gotten pretty close.”

Of course, I kept a firm boundary. Like I had told Yui earlier, adult friendships in the workplace were dangerous. The moment someone asked me to co-sign a loan or buy into a pyramid scheme, I was cutting ties. But Aoi didn't need to hear my cynical philosophy right now.

“Well, you’ve always been on the quiet side, but you do have a weird talent for making people feel comfortable around you,” Aoi conceded with a nod.

“Just be blunt and call me an introvert.”

“I’m trying to flatter you so you’ll help me with the pitch!” she huffed, pouting her lips.

Watching her seamlessly shift from an intimidating corporate shark into the cute, expressive girl I used to know made me sigh inwardly. I was glad she hadn't completely lost her soul after she became a working adult.

“But... you really did cut your hair short,” I noted again, unable to stop myself.

“Ah, yeah,” Aoi reached up, her manicured fingers brushing the tips of her bob. She looked slightly surprised that I brought it up again. “You know how insane the publishing industry is, right? It was just... way too troublesome to manage long hair with my schedule. So, I chopped it off.”

For a brief second, her confident voice wavered, sounding incredibly vulnerable.

“But... what do you... think?” she asked, looking up at me nervously.

What do I think? Does it even matter? I thought. We were broken up.

“.................”

Aoi narrowed her eyes, instantly reading my silence. Her mood darkened rapidly, clearly anticipating a cold, dismissive answer. I was glad I hadn't said it out loud.

“It’s a big change from how I’m used to seeing you,” I said softly, deciding to be honest. “But it suits you perfectly. You look beautiful, Aoi.”

“...You always say things like that so easily,” she muttered, a deep blush rushing to her cheeks as she quickly looked away.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She cleared her throat, aggressively regaining her professional composure. “Anyway. You’ll only be stuck at this library for your first two years. Where do you plan to transfer after that? Cultural Affairs? City Planning?”

As my ex-girlfriend, she knew exactly what my ambitions were—or rather, what she wanted my ambitions to be.

“Or... do you plan on rotting away in this library forever?”

“That might actually be the plan,” I shrugged easily.

Right now, my only goal in life is to collect a steady, comfortable paycheck and clock out exactly on time. The library gave me that. Why on earth would I willingly transfer to a high-stress department in Tokyo just to appease someone else's idea of success?

I knew my lack of ruthless ambition was the exact reason we broke up. When I passed the elite Tier 1 exams, she had expected me to move to Tokyo, become a high-powered bureaucrat in a Ministry, or become a wealthy corporate lawyer. I had deeply disappointed her when I chose peace over power.

I fully expected her to sneer, look down on me, or try to provoke me into an argument about my wasted potential. But instead—

“Well, I suppose that’s not entirely a bad thing,” Aoi smirked, stepping closer again and lightly tapping my chest with her clipboard. “If you stay here and become the Library Director, I’ll have a permanent connection on the inside. When the new budgets roll out, you’re going to buy all your books strictly from me, right~?”

“...............”

Watching that familiar, terrifyingly mischievous smile spread across her face, my lips twitched.

I let out a heavy sigh. She might have cut her hair and bought an expensive suit, but my ex-girlfriend truly hadn't changed one bit since the day we broke apart.