Checking Out at 5:15 PM Chapter 35: The Coward's Romance (Patreon)

Was I joking before?

I certainly hoped so. Having romantic fantasies about my strict, gorgeous boss was a dangerously slippery slope. Yet, I would be lying if my pulse didn't quicken at the prospect of marrying Misaki. It would be an absolute tragedy to let a woman with such sharp, breathtaking beauty and elegant curves exile herself to the freezing mountains of Hokkaido just to breed raccoons. If she possessed a genuine entrepreneurial spirit, I would support her completely. But if she was just running away from the exhausting, messy reality of adult relationships, maybe I really should just marry her to save her the trip.

“Though, without a doubt, she is wonderful.”

I had been thinking of many silly things, yet at the same time, the previous outing with my boss also lightened my mood, thinking that my problem wasn’t as huge as I thought it was, since even if my previous love might have been broken, it didn’t mean that it was over. Instead, I lived well before, and the thought of Aoi probably never crossed my mind when I didn’t see her, as I had determined to live my entire life in Kamakura.

If I moved, I would probably just move to Yokohama, given the need to relocate, as the nature of my job is as a civil servant.

Or, probably in the bigger and more prominent area of the section within Kamakura instead of the library?  

Anyway, it was impossible for me to return to Tokyo. While it wasn’t impossible, I didn’t really want to, as I was comfortable enough to be in this place, and while Tokyo might be a great place, too, the price that I had to pay to live in such a town was definitely huge, and I didn’t really want it, since as of now, I didn’t lack anything.

Still, enough of the talk of feelings and life, since after my lunch, I hurriedly returned with Misaki to continue our work on the library, and frankly, while I might want to explain about my jobs, there wasn’t much of anything interesting, as every day was nothing but just a monotone routine.

I was either at my desk or just helping arrange the books.

As for the book reading event, it was just a one-time event; unless I was asked to, I wouldn’t return to that area, as it would be a waste of time. I knew that my words might seem like too much, since every work was important, yet others, especially Misaki and also her higher-up, thought that I should be on the management, as it was rare to have someone who understood the administration and laws.

The library was, in the end, an institution, and its budget came from taxes, so without a doubt, due to that, everything that existed in this place, every act, especially those that needed budgets, and many others, needed to be recorded and wait for the procedure to be finished before one could start any of the acts.

It might be troublesome and also slow, as in many cases one needed speed to handle some things, yet this was a library; what kind of critical thing might happen in this place besides a crying toddler or an old patron crying?

At worst, probably an affair?

Well, even if there was a forbidden relationship between a married woman in the nearby area and the librarian, it had nothing to do with me, as I wasn’t involved, nor did I plan to do one to begin with. 

It wasn't that I was immune to desire—I was a healthy, warm-blooded man. When a woman like Reiko pressed her soft, heavy chest against me, or when Misaki offered me a rare, unguarded smile, my rational mind short-circuited. The stress of modern life drove many men toward the messy comforts of the red-light district—soaplands, fashion health, or delivery services. But taking those risks felt dirty and inherently unsafe.

So, wouldn't an illicit affair with a bored, married housewife theoretically be the ultimate, safe comfort?

A married woman had a family to protect; she would guard the secret with her life. It would be a relationship completely wrapped in thrilling secrecy, driven purely by raw physical pleasure. Just imagining the soft, yielding warmth of an experienced, older woman wrapping around me in the dark sent a heavy, illicit throb straight to my groin.

But I ruthlessly crushed the thought. Why would I play with fire and risk burning my entire career to ashes? Like my career, I wanted a safe, stable romance. Drama was exhausting. Love should be a steady marathon, not a destructive, passionate sprint that leaves both people in ruins.

“Hmm? Amami-san?”

I was walking through the quiet, dust-scented aisles of the classic romance section when a splash of color caught my eye. I was completely surprised to find Yui standing there. She rarely left her gloomy corner.

“Ah, um... M-Motoi-san!”

Yui violently flinched. She spun around, gasping sharply. The sudden movement caused the heavy fabric of her oversized sweater to pull tight against her chest, putting the mesmerizing, heavy bounce of her massive F-cups on full display for a split second.

The heavy hardcover book she was holding slipped from her trembling fingers.

I stepped forward instantly, my hand shooting out to catch the book right before it hit the carpet. As I grabbed it, my knuckles lightly brushed against her warm, incredibly soft fingers.

“I-I am so sorry!” she squeaked, her face instantly flushing a deep, ripe pink. A faint, intoxicating scent of sweet vanilla and milk wafted off her heated skin, making my body feel hot and my heart race slightly for some reason.

“No, it’s completely fine. I’m the one who startled you,” I said, pulling my hand back gently. I glanced down at the cover. “Kokoro?”

It wasn't some obscure text; it was Natsume Soseki’s masterpiece. But despite its popularity in schools, it was a heavy, deeply psychological, and distinctly adult story. It revolved around a tragic love triangle between Sensei, his wife Shizu, and his best friend K. Unable to handle the betrayal of his own rigid ideals, K ultimately committed suicide. The entire tragedy hinged on the terrifying consequences of men keeping their intense feelings bottled up until it was entirely too late.

As I held the book, a deeply uncomfortable thought pierced my mind.

Am I acting exactly like Sensei?

I was clinging to my own rigid idealism of a "peaceful life," actively cutting off the woman I loved to avoid the messy conflict of our incompatible futures. Was I going to continue living this lonely, cowardly life, ignoring the beautiful, tempting encounters right in front of me just to protect my comfortable routine?

“Ah, um...” Yui fidgeted nervously, pulling me back to reality.

“Sorry. Here you go, Amami-san,” I smiled smoothly, handing the book back. “Do you want to borrow it? I can process it for you right now.”

“W-Well...” Yui looked incredibly awkward. She hugged the thick book tightly against her chest, the hard spine sinking invitingly into her soft cleavage. She didn't want him to know she was actively researching desperate love stories. “I-Is that really okay?”

“Why wouldn't it be?” I tilted my head. “Are you doing research to write a romance novel, Amami-san?”

“Eh?”

“If you wrote a romance novel, it would be an absolute bestseller,” I noted genuinely.

“Romance...” Yui murmured softly, her eyes dropping to the cover.

“Take your time reading it. Whenever you’re ready, just come to my desk.” While it might be better to talk for a bit with her, I waved goodbye, since I still had a job to do, and I felt that it wasn’t good to hurry her decision either. More importantly,  I still had administrative paperwork to finish, and I absolutely refused to miss my clock-out time.

“Y-Yeah...”

As Motoi disappeared down the aisle, Yui looked down at the book. She slowly flipped to the page depicting K's ultimate despair. In the end, the tragedy was born from unspoken feelings.

Will I end up exactly like them? Yui thought, her chest tightening so painfully she could barely breathe. The memory of Aoi’s sharp, beautiful face and her devastating confession—“I am his former girlfriend”—made Yui feel physically sick with jealousy.

I was completely oblivious to Yui’s internal crisis. I powered through my remaining tasks until the digital clock flipped.

5:15 PM.

Sharp. Not a minute more, not a minute less.

I grabbed my bag, stepped through the library's sliding glass doors, and pulled out my smartphone to text Aoi. The cool, salty Kamakura sea breeze washed over me, rustling the leaves in the courtyard.

“You are late!”

I looked up. Aoi was leaning against the brick wall. The golden-orange glow of the setting sun caught the glossy, inviting shine of her plump lips and highlighted the perfect, hourglass curve of her hips wrapped tightly in her tailored skirt.

“How could you possibly make a beautiful woman like me stand out here waiting for you?” Aoi puffed her cheeks out, crossing her arms to deliberately push her chest up. “Or rather, do you actually get some sick pleasure out of it, hmm?”

I didn’t say a word. I just stood there, taking in her sultry, demanding posture. Her sharp bob wasn't my favorite—I had loved running my hands through her long hair—but she was still undeniably, fiercely gorgeous.

I probably still love her, I realized silently.

Despite all my rigid logic and desperate attempts to suppress my feelings, a genuine, unguarded smile broke across my face.

“...You are such a massive sadist to suddenly smile at me like that,” Aoi murmured, her breathy voice dropping an octave as a faint blush dusted her cheeks. “You really do enjoy torturing me.”

“We’re still going out, right?” I asked, stepping closer. “Your treat?”

“Sadist!” Aoi sighed in exasperation, but a wicked, beautiful smile played on her lips. “I don’t mind treating you. But you have to help me with something first, okay?”

“Hmm?”