Checking Out at 5:15 PM Chapter 36: Saizeriya Sunsets (Patreon)

“Are you absolutely sure this place is okay?” Aoi asked, looking around the brightly lit dining room with a highly skeptical expression. “We can go to a much better place, you know. I told you I’m treating.”

Her voice took on a slightly haughty, aristocratic tone, sounding exactly like a wealthy conglomerate heiress from a shoujo romance manga.

“Do you actually have enough disposable income to buy me an A5 wagyu steak right now?” I asked flatly, looking up from the digital menu on my smartphone with a deadpan stare.

“...Okay, fine. Just order whatever you want here! It’s my treat~!”

Aoi instantly dropped the haughty act. She switched gears effortlessly, flashing me a brilliant, puppy-like smile and giving me an energetic thumbs-up.

She was so incredibly cute, yet undeniably sly. I just rolled my eyes and looked back down at the menu. Honestly, I didn't mind being here at all. There were a lot of interesting, comforting dishes, and best of all, they were cheap.

I knew she genuinely wanted to take me to a high-end, expensive restaurant to show off her corporate success. And while I didn't mind letting her pay—my starting salary as a civil servant was nothing to brag about—I didn't actually lack money. I had zero rent or mortgage to pay.

Instead, I was quietly worried about her wallet.

Some people might look at Aoi and assume she was wildly wealthy. She was currently wearing a tailored silk blouse, a pristine designer trench coat, and carrying a leather handbag that easily cost hundreds of thousands of yen. But I knew the reality. She was just a rookie, same as me.

Yes, working in PR for a massive publishing house came with serious perks. As long as she hit her sales quotas, her earning potential was practically unlimited. PR reps often played fast and loose with corporate reimbursement accounts, expensing lavish dinners to "entertain clients." But the PR team was the absolute backbone of the company. They were the frontline spears bleeding money out of clients to pay the salaries of everyone else in the building. Because of that, management usually looked the other way.

But while her income was decent, her expenses were terrifying.

Why were they so high? Simply to look capable.

Some people might call it a tragic waste to blow an entire paycheck on designer fashion. But in a cutthroat industry like Tokyo PR, appearances were literally everything. If two reps pitched the exact same product, the client would subconsciously trust the one who looked wealthy, polished, and successful over the one wearing a cheap, wrinkled suit. People entrust their money to people who already look like they know how to handle money.

But keeping up that expensive illusion was a dangerous trap. If you kept buying luxury goods to project success, completely ignoring your actual base salary, you could easily fall into predatory credit card debt. It was an inescapable quicksand that had drowned plenty of ambitious young professionals in Tokyo.

I knew Aoi was too smart to fall into that specific trap. But Tokyo was incredibly expensive, and unlike me—who had inherited a massive, paid-off Kamakura estate from my parents—she had to pay exorbitant city rent.

“Still, this place isn’t bad at all,” Aoi murmured softly, leaning her chin on her hand as she looked out the large glass window.

The sun was just finishing its descent. The sky above Yuigahama Beach was burning in deep, vivid strokes of orange and violent purple. In the far distance, the massive, dark silhouette of Mount Fuji stood starkly over the ocean, slowly fading as total darkness began to claim the sky.

Even though we were just sitting inside a Saizeriya—a notoriously cheap, casual Italian family restaurant chain—Aoi had to admit the coastal view was absolutely outrageous.

“I thought you wanted to eat at a better place?” I teased, resting my chin on my hand to mirror her posture.

“I never once said I would refuse to eat at a place with a great view and cheap food,” Aoi huffed, violently rolling her eyes. She knew exactly what I was doing. Out of everyone in the world, I knew her true, frugal nature the best, yet I still actively chose to tease her. She puffed her cheeks out into a gorgeous, frustrated pout.

Looking at her perfectly trimmed bob, her delicate jawline, and that adorable, frustrated expression, a heavy, helpless feeling settled in my chest. I couldn't help but stare at her in a daze. My resistance around her was pitifully weak.

“What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

Aoi tried to sound tough and defensive, but the faint, rapid flush spreading across her cheeks completely betrayed her. She could feel the sudden heat in my gaze.

“I’m not. I’m just looking at the menu,” I lied smoothly, tapping my phone screen.

“Liar!”

“Have you decided what you want to order?”

Aoi rolled her eyes again. Instead of staying seated across the table, she suddenly stood up, smoothed her tailored skirt, and slid into the booth right next to me. The sudden, intimate proximity and the immediate wave of her Le Labo perfume made my breath hitch.

“Let me in. I want to see the menu on your screen,” she demanded, pressing her shoulder lightly against my arm.

“Why don't you just use your own smartphone?”

“My battery is in the red! What if it completely dies before I catch the train back to Tokyo?”

Her smartphone was her absolute lifeline. If her battery died and she missed a client email during her commute, she would probably have a panic attack.

“..................”

“...Here.”

I let out an internal sigh, shifting slightly to give her more room. I reached into my bag and pulled out a sleek, fully charged power bank, handing it to her along with a cable. “Use this.”

“Thanks~!” Aoi beamed, quickly plugging her phone in.

“Where’s yours? Didn't you have a pink one before?” I asked.

“Gone. Disappeared into the void. I have absolutely no idea where I left it.”

“....................”

I didn't bother pressing the issue. I just turned my attention back to the digital menu. I glanced around the restaurant, silently noting how bizarre it was to see a massive, framed replica of Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus hanging on the wall of a cheap family diner. But that serious, unironic dedication to mixing casual local dining with classical Italian aesthetics was probably exactly why Saizeriya was so insanely popular.

“Have you figured out your order?” I asked, my stomach rumbling.

“I want the prosciutto salad, the seasonal fruit, and wine!”

“Go ahead and put it in.”

“What about you?” Aoi asked, leaning closer to look at my screen.

“Hmm...”

“Oh! Those spicy grilled chicken wings look amazing! Why don’t you order a plate of those?”

“...Are you just going to eat exactly one wing to taste it, and then force me to finish the rest of the plate so you don't break your diet?”

“Te-he~!”

“....................”

I stared at her in complete, deadpan silence. Aoi just laughed—a cute, adorable, yet completely sly sound that made my fingers genuinely itch with the urge to reach over and spank her.

Yeah. Her chest might have been on the modest, flat side, but the shape of her waist, her hips, and her firm, round buttocks straining beautifully against her tight pencil skirt were absolutely devastating. They reminded me of the smooth, flawless legs depicted in John Collier’s painting of Lady Godiva.

I probably should have used a classic Italian painting as a reference considering where we were eating, but the way Lady Godiva’s bare legs were portrayed dangling elegantly over the side of the horse perfectly captured the smooth, agonizingly beautiful curve of Aoi’s thighs.

“...Are you thinking about something weird right now?” Aoi suddenly asked, her voice dropping lower.

“I’m just hungry.”

“Hungry for what, exactly?”

Aoi narrowed her eyes, an incredibly sultry, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She knew exactly what her ex-boyfriend was thinking. We had dated for years during the absolute, hormone-fueled peak of our youth. We had been deeply, physically obsessed with each other.

Just as I knew the exact, soft curve of her hips, she intimately knew every single secret, sensitive part of me.

“Food,” I said flatly, keeping my face perfectly neutral. “What else?”

“Hmm....”

“What’s with that look?”

“Nothing~!”

“.............................”

“Tsundere,” Aoi whispered softly under her breath, lightly twirling the tip of her bobbed hair around her finger.

“............................”

I heard her perfectly clearly, but I couldn't say a single word in defense. I just sighed in absolute, crushing defeat. I was completely at her mercy.

“So, what are you actually ordering? Another plate of weird, sour tomatoes? But seriously, don’t forget to add the chicken wings,” Aoi demanded, pointing at the screen.

“...Fine.”

I had a major complaint about being treated like her personal garbage disposal, but I swallowed my pride. She was the one paying the bill, after all.

“Oh! And pull up the Spot-The-Difference puzzle on the app!”

“Yes, yes.”

I rolled my eyes at how demanding and spoiled she was acting. But I also felt a surge of competitive doubt.

Saizeriya’s Spot-The-Difference puzzle was legendary. It was a notoriously difficult, in-house cartoon designed specifically to stall impatient customers while they waited for their cheap Italian food. The final few differences were always sadistically hidden.

“Can you actually solve it this time?” I challenged.

“Who exactly do you think I am?” Aoi puffed her chest out haughtily, placing a hand over her heart.

“...Just don’t start crying when you can’t find the tenth difference.”

“I will finish it!”

My stomach gave another loud, embarrassing rumble. I quickly tapped the screen to finalize our order.

No waiter approached our table to confirm it. The entire system was completely automated via smartphone. Some older patrons hated it, arguing that it lacked human warmth. But from a cold, corporate perspective, it was brilliant. It drastically cut labor costs, maximized profit margins, and completely eliminated human error when taking complex orders.

But sitting here, I had to admit that humanity possessed its own chaotic, irreplaceable beauty. Machines didn't smile. They didn't tease you. They didn't make your heart beat faster.

I knew how incredibly lucky I was in this exact moment. I was sitting in a warm restaurant, watching the ocean turn dark, spending the evening right beside the woman I had once loved with everything I had.

But how does she actually feel? I wondered, stealing a glance at her profile as she aggressively tapped the puzzle on my phone.

Did she feel exactly like I did? Was she desperately trying to forget our history because she knew we could never walk the same path? Or was she...?

No. Stop it.

If I continued down that line of thought, I would just expose how deeply selfish I still was. I always put my own need for peace over her ambitions. Letting those dark, melancholic thoughts surface would completely ruin the food and dampen the mood. Especially since this was likely the absolute last time we would see each other like this. Her life was in Tokyo; she had no reason to visit Kamakura frequently.

“By the way, do not forget to add the alcohol! I want a glass of the Dolce!” Aoi commanded, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“Red or white?”

“White!”

“Got it.”

“You’re ordering a drink too, right?”

“..................” I shot her a skeptical side-eye, but I tapped the screen to add a drink for myself anyway.

“Hmm... Limoncello?” Aoi peeked over my shoulder. “Let me take a sip of that when it comes.”

“..................”

I finalized the order and set the phone down. I turned my body slightly, resting my arm on the back of the booth to face her fully.

“...So. What exactly did you want to talk about?”

I knew the only reason we were sitting in a cheap family restaurant tonight was because she had specifically requested this meeting. She had something important to say.

A dangerous, hopeful thought flickered in the back of my mind. But I immediately crushed it. I wouldn't let her say it. If anyone was going to bring up our unresolved feelings, it should be the man. Or rather, it had to be me, because I was the coward who broke us up in the first place.

I looked at her, my heart pounding slightly, waiting for the heavy, emotional conversation to begin.

Aoi met my gaze. She kept her beautiful, radiant smile perfectly intact as she leaned closer.

“I need you to help me brainstorm a strategic plan to lock down more corporate clients in Kamakura, okay?”

“..........................”