Checking Out at 5:15 PM Chapter 34: A Vow at Thirty-Five (Patreon)

What exactly am I thinking?

I let out a heavy, internal sigh, feeling completely helpless at how easily swayed I was. No matter how smart or pragmatic I tried to be, the moment I faced a beautiful, charming woman, I instantly turned into a fish out of water—completely pathetic, my body reacting in ways my rational mind desperately wanted to suppress.

It wasn't just me, though. I was certain the vast majority of men on earth felt exactly the same way. When an attractive woman leaned in close, it felt like being put under a magic spell, completely at her mercy.

If even the first human, Adam, couldn't fight against the whims of a woman—willingly falling from Eden just to stay by her side—how was I, an ordinary Kamakura librarian, supposed to fight against the primal desire that flared up when gorgeous women were constantly pressing against me?

Unless I swung the other way—which, while I had absolutely no prejudice toward, simply wasn't the case—I was doomed. I loved women.

Then again...

While my physical reactions were undeniably clear, my heart was still terrified. I was afraid of committing to Aoi because I knew I couldn't give her the life she desperately wanted. My ideal life definitely lacked the high-society Tokyo glamour she craved.

My life was going to be spent right here, rotting peacefully in this sleepy, coastal city.

The lingering feelings I had for her were undeniable, but I knew perfectly well that love alone wasn't enough to feed her ambition. Because of that, I shouldn’t give her any false hope. Tonight, when she took me out to dinner, I needed to make a clean, final break. I had actively chosen my peace over my longing, and I had to stand by that selfish decision.

But to survive that dinner, I needed to recharge my social battery. I decided to slip out of the library for lunch alone, terrified that if I stayed in the staff room, Reiko might try to seduce me again. And honestly, if that 39-year-old housewife pressed her massive chest against my face one more time, my strained self-control might completely snap.

It was a terrible habit of mine. When I was deeply exhausted, the thick, polite walls I built around myself started to crumble. If I let my bottled-up emotions leak out, I could easily do something highly irrational and hurt the people around me. Despite my calm, gentle image, I knew deep down that I wasn't actually a perfectly good person, after all, because I could ignore others' feelings to prioritize my own.

I checked to make sure the coast was clear, then quietly slipped out the back exit toward the alleyway.

“Motoi?”

“..................”

I froze instantly. I had been discovered.

But when I turned around, I was completely confused. “Kacho?”

I was shocked because Misaki was also sneaking out the back exit. It was incredibly rare to see her leave the building during her shift. She usually stayed glued to her desk, working through her breaks and carelessly eating whatever sad convenience store sandwich she had bought that morning.

“What are you doing sneaking out here?” Misaki asked, her sharp eyes scanning me. “Aren’t you going to buy your usual lunch set from that crazy Pegasus guy?”

“...Do you honestly think I visit that shop every single day, Kacho?”

“Do you not?”

If there was one reason Misaki believed I had sponsored the Pegasus Bento Shop as the library's official caterer, it was because I must be obsessed with the food. She had to admit, the Greek-inspired bento boxes were refreshing, bright, and surprisingly great at boosting the staff's morale.

“Well, I like to eat it from time to time, but I need variety,” I reasoned smoothly.

I couldn't exactly tell her the truth. The food was great, but facing the aggressively loud, mythological-obsessed shop owner every day was exhausting. If it wasn't for Kana-nee—his gorgeous, mature wife who occasionally leaned a little too far over the counter—I probably would have stopped going entirely.

Am I seriously sexually frustrated? I sighed inwardly, rubbing my temples.

“What about you, Kacho?” I asked, changing the subject. “Are you heading to the convenience store as usual?”

“No, well...” Misaki hesitated. She rubbed the back of her neck, a rare, shy flush creeping up her cheeks before she finally asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

“Hmm?”

I wasn't entirely sure where she was inviting me, but I immediately nodded. Honestly, while I wanted to be alone, I was curious about where she wanted to bring me.

“Welcome in!”

As we stepped through the traditional noren curtains of the ramen shop, a loud, energetic greeting from the staff washed over us. It was my first time visiting this specific shop. I looked around curiously. Unlike the typical, cramped Tokyo ramen stands where you practically rubbed shoulders with the person next to you while standing at a greasy counter, this place was surprisingly spacious. It even had several private wooden booths tucked into the corners.

“Let’s sit over there.”

Misaki expertly guided me to a quiet table in the far corner, completely isolated from the other patrons.

“What do you want to order?” she asked, pulling out the menu. “It’s my treat.”

“No, it’s completely fine, Kacho. I can pay for myself.”

It felt incredibly awkward to constantly have my boss pay for my meals. I felt like a stray cat she had taken in to feed.

“Just accept it,” she insisted, waving her hand dismissively. “What are you so worried about? You bought me expensive wine and premium fruit on your day off. It’s my turn to return the favor. Besides, ramen isn't exactly going to bankrupt me.”

She was right. The price of a premium bowl of ramen was incredibly reasonable, which was exactly why it remained the ultimate comfort food for the working class in this country.

“What are you thinking about so intensely?” Misaki narrowed her eyes, noticing my silence.

I was actually just staring at her. I had to admit, Misaki was an incredibly beautiful woman. Even with her raven hair tied up in her severe, perfect bun, and her body hidden beneath her sharp, dark suit, her current expression was devastatingly cute. Her lips were currently pushed into a slight, impatient pout as she waited for my answer.

I let out a soft sigh. If I just married Misaki, I’d probably have a really peaceful, happy life, I thought casually to myself.

“I’m just wondering what’s good here,” I said aloud, picking up my menu.

“I recommend their signature chicken broth ramen! The soup is incredibly rich and creamy!”

As she spoke, her usual "Iron Maiden" persona completely vanished. She eagerly pointed out her favorite items on the menu, her eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm. Because of her strict position at the library, she didn't have many people she could talk to casually. Most of her friends from her younger days had married, had children, or been swallowed by corporate responsibilities. Finding time to just sit and excitedly talk about good food with someone was a rare luxury for her.

Seeing her smile so brightly, I couldn't help but be completely drawn in.

We sat face to face in the booth. If the other library staff had seen her right now—smiling openly, her cold authority entirely gone—they would have been completely dumbfounded. They would probably have immediately assumed the man sitting across from her was a miracle worker, given the immense age difference between them.

Though some might think that we’re lovers, as despite being much older, Misaki was just that beautiful.

“Alright, I’ll order the orthodox chicken broth then,” I decided.

“Good choice. I’ll get the spicy version.”

As Misaki flagged down the waiter to place our order, I took a sip of my cold barley tea. “Do you actually like spicy food, Kacho?”

“What? Do you honestly think I can’t handle a little spice?” Misaki narrowed her eyes, instantly defensive. “Do you think I have the weak palate of a child?”

“No, no! I’ve never thought that,” I quickly backpedaled. “But you’re wearing a pristine, dry-clean-only suit. Are you sure it's a good idea?”

Eating ramen was notoriously messy. The broth easily splashed, and the spicy version was an aggressive, bright red oil. One drop would completely ruin her white blouse.

“Don’t worry about it,” Misaki puffed her chest out proudly. “I am an absolute expert at eating ramen cleanly.”

“Oh really?”

“You don’t believe me? Fine. Just watch and learn, rookie.”

“...................”

I had no idea how this had suddenly turned into a competitive display of eating skills, but I wasn't going to argue. When the steaming bowls arrived, I casually rolled up the sleeves of my cardigan. The intense heat of the broth instantly fogged up my glasses, so I took them off, folding them neatly on the table.

I grabbed my chopsticks, but when I looked up, Misaki hadn't moved.

“What’s wrong, Kacho? Aren't you eating?”

Without my glasses, my peripheral vision was slightly blurry, but Misaki was sitting close enough that I could see her perfectly. She was frozen, her chopsticks hovering in the air, staring blankly at my bare face.

“N-Nothing!” Misaki practically shouted, violently looking away. She let out a helpless, frustrated sigh. She had absolutely no idea why seeing her subordinate casually take his glasses off suddenly made her heart skip a beat. He looks too handsome, she cursed internally.

“Anyway, just eat!” she ordered, her cheeks flushing pink. “This place is amazing!”

“Yeah.”

It wasn't just the ramen that was amazing; it was the entire atmosphere. From our corner booth, I could look out the large window and see the Kamakura sea in the distance. The faint, rhythmic sound of the crashing waves filtered in through the glass as I quietly slurped my noodles.

At the same time, I was completely mesmerized by how incredibly demure Misaki was when she ate. She hadn't been bragging—she was an expert. She guided the red, spicy noodles to her mouth with elegant, precise movements, ensuring not a single drop splashed onto her suit.

But watching the way her soft lips parted to blow on the hot noodles, and the delicate movement of her tongue as she tasted the spicy broth, sent a sudden, heavy throb straight down to my lower stomach.

I violently tore my eyes away, staring aggressively at the ocean. I silently cursed my young, overly healthy body for constantly generating wildly inappropriate thoughts about my boss.

But the ramen is delicious, I reasoned, trying to calm down.

I finished my bowl, wiping my mouth with a napkin before taking a long drink of my cold tea. I looked back out at the ocean. The sea was exactly the same as it was yesterday, yet completely different. The waves were never the same twice.

This was my everyday scenery now. This calm, beautiful coastal view was something I would have completely lost if I had moved to the concrete jungle of Tokyo.

This is my life now.

I didn't regret my decision to move to Kamakura for a single second. Despite all the chaotic, funky situations I found myself in, my life in this city was undeniably wonderful.

“Is your mood a little better now?”

Misaki’s soft voice broke the silence. I turned back to look at her in confusion.

“It’s perfectly normal to feel exhausted and overwhelmed at work,” Misaki said, her eyes incredibly gentle as she rested her chin in her hands. “When you feel like that, just step away, take a deep breath, and rest. Because... I’m genuinely glad to have you here in this library, Motoi.”

She offered me a warm, breathtakingly beautiful smile.

I couldn't say a single word. I just sat there in the quiet ramen shop, staring at her, completely captivated by how truly stunning she was.

Yeah, I thought to myself, an absolute sense of certainty washing over me.

If she's somehow still single when she turns thirty-five... I’m going to marry her.