Checking Out at 5:15 PM Chapter 38: Dangerous Proximity (Patreon)

“You’re an absolute devil!”

Aoi stared at me across the cheap plastic table, her eyes wide with a mix of horror and deep, undeniable admiration.

“Don’t blame me,” I shrugged lightly, taking another sip of my Calpis soda. “Look at the environment I grew up in. When you spend your entire life surrounded by lawyers and scriveners, you quickly learn that people are incredibly desperate for money. What they usually lack is just a little creativity.”

As long as the creativity was there, and the will to search for an easy path existed, there was no way to stop people from making money—even if the method wasn't strictly, traditionally legal.

Wait, that’s not the right phrasing.

As long as everything was technically legal on paper, it was fine.

The truth was, many laws were incredibly ambiguous. Elite professionals made their entire living interpreting those vague loopholes to benefit their clients. And regarding the Hometown Tax loophole I had just explained, as long as the books Aoi provided were decent, she had a massive opportunity. If she could lock down local politicians as her dedicated patrons, funneling their "donations" through premium book bundles... the absolute glory of high-society Tokyo life was basically resting in the palm of her hand.

“But,” I added, my tone turning serious, “if you can easily hit your quotas using the normal, boring methods, you should just stick to that. If you actually walk down the gray path I just described, you will make a terrifying amount of money. But whether you want to or not, you will instantly become a massive target.”

Whether it was the National Tax Agency, the Special Investigation Department of the Public Prosecutor's Office, or rival corporate factions, none of them could be taken lightly. One single, microscopic slip-up with the paperwork, and her entire life would be completely destroyed.

“Who the hell wants to deal with that?!”

Aoi immediately puffed out her cheeks, vehemently shaking her head. She absolutely refused to enter that terrifying gray area. She was smart enough to know that once you stepped into the shadows of political favors, there was zero turning back. To survive in that world, everyone had to hold each other’s darkest secrets hostage just to establish trust.

She might desperately love money, high-fashion glamour, and Tokyo vanity, but she still had her limits!

“But...” she leaned forward, her elbows on the table, “tell me more about the normal Furusato Nozei strategy. The Hometown Tax Gifts.”

Without a doubt, the idea of legally draining municipal budgets was exactly the kind of corporate strategy she loved.

“It isn’t overly complicated,” I explained, sliding my glass aside. “But since you are actively trying to do business directly with a government institution, you have to master three critical concepts.”

“Three?”

“Authority, Procedure, and Substance.”

I raised three fingers. “Authority refers to whether a specific government agency or municipal office actually has the legal power to make a purchasing decision. If you aggressively pitch to the wrong department, you’re just wasting your time. And even if you somehow convince an official to sign a massive book order, if they acted beyond their legal jurisdiction, the contract is completely void. It’s considered ultra vires, or kengen henko.”

Aoi nodded slowly, furiously taking mental notes.

“Procedure dictates the strict, unbending standard operating protocols for the government. Violating even a single step results in a tetsuzuki no kabi—a procedural defect.” I pointed at her notepad. “Even when you handed me those invoices yesterday, they had to be reformatted to match Kamakura City Hall’s exact layout. If you want to pitch your products for the tax program, you have to follow their procurement steps perfectly.”

I paused to take a sip of my drink before continuing. “The last is Substance.”

“Substance?”

“This focuses on the factual basis and material legality of the decision itself. For the government to approve a massive purchase, it has to be objectively justifiable. If they buy millions of yen in books that the town clearly doesn't need, it's considered an abuse of discretionary power—sairyōken no ranyō. And that leads directly to a messy court battle.”

“....................”

Aoi just stared at me, completely overwhelmed by the sheer volume of bureaucratic red tape.

“To be completely honest, doing business directly with the government is an absolute nightmare,” I didn’t sugarcoat it. “Because the government is forced to follow these strict procedures, the business process is agonizingly slow. And unfortunately, there are always unsavory politicians trying to take advantage of the system to line their own pockets.”

If Aoi was running her own independent startup, I would have explicitly told her to run away. But since she had the massive legal team of K-Publishing backing her, it was perfectly safe.

“If you can master those three troublesome concepts, the rest is just relying on your natural talent for sales pitching. It’ll be incredibly difficult at first, but I know you can do it.”

If she could successfully navigate the bureaucracy, she would be set for life. As long as the Japanese government didn't collapse, the money would never stop flowing.

As Aoi sat there, listening to her ex-boyfriend casually break down complex administrative law and municipal tax codes in a cheap family diner, a heavy, frustrating ache settled in her chest.

He is completely wasting his life here.

Even with his Tier-1 qualifications, he could go literally anywhere in Tokyo. He could be a high-powered consultant or a rising star in a major ministry. Yet, he actively chose to rot in a sleepy library. But she also knew perfectly well that if she brought it up again, they would just end up in another screaming match.

She let out a soft, internal sigh and looked down at the food the waitress had just delivered.

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“No, it’s just... this pollock roe spaghetti looks incredibly interesting.”

The dish completely ignored traditional Italian conventions. It was a massive plate of spaghetti tossed in a bright, neon-pink sauce made from salted, creamy cod roe. It looked incredibly strange to anyone unfamiliar with it, but the smell was amazing.

“Let me try it.” Without any hesitation or shyness, Aoi reached across the table, twirled a massive forkful of my pasta, and took a bite. Her eyes instantly widened. “Delicious~!”

The distinct, salty, ocean-forward umami flavor of the roe mixed perfectly with the rich cream. She eagerly took another bite.

I just sighed, watching her happily devour half my meal, before I reached for the plate of spicy chicken wings. I probably should have warned her about the massive amount of calories she was consuming, especially since she was incredibly strict about her diet and maintaining her slim figure. But seeing the pure, unguarded happiness on her face made me smile. I just let her eat.

But even with a mouth full of pasta, Aoi’s sharp, corporate brain hadn't forgotten the business strategy.

“I know what you said about the three concepts, but I’m going to need to do a massive amount of research on those municipal laws and procedures before I pitch to City Hall. It would probably be best if I hired a lawyer who specializes in government contracts, right?”

She was entirely correct. Navigating municipal law without a guide was suicide. If she violated a single obscure article in the regulations, the entire deal would instantly collapse.

“A lawyer, huh...” Aoi murmured, setting her fork down. She slowly looked up, her sharp, beautiful eyes locking directly onto mine.

“...What exactly is with that look?” I asked, leaning back defensively.

“Can you help me?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Please!” Aoi suddenly lunged across the small table. “I will pay you! Seriously, I trust your brain infinitely more than some greedy Tokyo lawyer who just wants to milk me for billable hours! Please, Shizuki! Please!”

She was so desperate that she practically threw herself over me, her hands tightly clinging onto my body. As she leaned forward, the soft, undeniable weight of her chest pressed directly against my chest.

She might not have had the bombastic, gravity-defying curves of Misaki or Yui, but she was still a beautiful, incredibly fit woman. Her body was naturally soft and warm. For a man who had basically been living the celibate, peaceful life of a monk since their breakup, the sudden, intense physical contact was like a shock to the system.

My body stiffened instantly.

“Don’t lean so close,” I warned, gently but firmly pushing her back into her seat. “If my body actually reacts to this in the middle of a family restaurant, it won't be funny.”

“...Pervert.”

Aoi’s face flushed a deep, beautiful red, and she quickly sat back. But even as she chided me, her eyes darted nervously down toward my lap. Since they had dated for years, she knew exactly how... impressive his reactions could be. If he actually got aroused right now, it would be a total disaster for his pristine, professional image.

But the brief, electric exchange had completely shattered the polite, distant walls they had been trying to maintain. The heavy, intimate memories they had both tried to lock away came rushing back. They couldn't help but remember their wild, passionate university days—the careless, intense moments they had spent tangled together in tiny Tokyo apartments.

Despite the intense nostalgia, the memory also served as a harsh bucket of cold water.

I remembered exactly why we had parted ways. To be with her meant sacrificing my ultimate wish: a lazy, peaceful life where I could clock out at exactly 5:15 PM and never think about work again.

I knew perfectly well that being a librarian wasn't entirely stress-free. Every job had its problems. But compared to the brutal, cutthroat corporate world Aoi thrived in, the library was a literal walk in the park. My income was completely guaranteed; I would never be fired, and as I accrued seniority, my salary would steadily rise. Misaki was the perfect example—after a decade of service, she lived incredibly comfortably and basically did whatever she wanted.

Why would I ever sacrifice that guaranteed peace?

I looked at my ex-girlfriend, who was still staring at me with desperate, pleading eyes.

“The National Public Service Act, Article 101, strictly states that civil officials must give their undivided attention to their official duties,” I recited smoothly, tapping the table. “And Article 104 expressly restricts any participation in outside businesses or undertakings without explicit government permission. Do you understand?”

“......................”

Aoi slumped in her seat, completely defeated by the bureaucratic wall.

“But...”

“But...?” Her head snapped up, hope reigniting in her eyes.

“If you are simply asking your old friend for some casual, completely unofficial 'advice' over dinner... and you happen to give that friend a 'gift' instead of a traceable paycheck... well, that’s a completely different story.”

“Corrupt!” Aoi gasped dramatically, pointing an accusing finger at me while a massive, radiant smile broke across her face. “Police! We have a deeply corrupt civil servant right here!”

I just stared at her exaggerated, theatrical reaction, unable to stop my own smile from forming. “Do you want my help or not?”

“Deal!”

Aoi reached across the table, grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly. The pure, unadulterated joy on her face made me feel entirely helpless. Despite all the strict, logical boundaries I had sworn to maintain, I couldn't stop the warm feeling spreading through my chest. Strangely, for the first time in months, I was actually looking forward to whatever our chaotic future held.

The next day, the lingering warmth of that dinner carried me through my shift at the library. I was in an incredibly good mood all day.

When the digital clock hit exactly 5:15 PM, I grabbed my bag, completely ready to head home and relax. But just as I reached the door of the staff office, a voice stopped me.

“Motoi. Can you wait a moment?”

“Hmm?”

I turned around to see Misaki standing up from her desk. For some completely unknown reason, my heart suddenly gave a nervous jolt.

Wait, why am I nervous?

I hadn't done anything wrong. Giving Aoi unofficial tax advice was just a tiny, harmless loophole.

But as Misaki walked toward me, the strict, intimidating "Iron Lady" persona was completely gone. She wouldn't meet my eyes. The pale skin of her elegant nape and the tips of her ears—completely exposed by her tight bun—were flushed a deep, beautiful red.

She stopped in front of me, nervously gripping the strap of her leather handbag.

“Can we... go home together?”

“Hmmmm?”

My brain completely short-circuited. I stared at my gorgeous, blushing boss for three solid seconds, completely at a loss for words, before I finally managed to nod.

“...Okay.”