La Vie En Rose: Chapter 1 - Part 6

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At his sister-in-law's urging, Momota stepped into a one-room apartment. It was only slightly larger than the room he lived in, yet it was cramped for a family of three.

His brother had died suddenly at the age of thirty-eight. While standing by the small Buddhist altar near the window, with his hands clasped in front of his brother’s smiling portrait, Momota remembered the time three years ago when he had tried to gulp down drugs in one go or jump into a river.

"If lives could be divided, I would have given you the rest of mine..." he thought. His brother had kids and would have wanted to see them grow up. His brother's life had been many times more valuable than his own, and it probably always would have been.

As these thoughts filled his mind, tears began to flow. His sister-in-law gently offered him a tissue. 

"You live in a really small place," he commented.

For someone like his brother, who had worked at a prestigious company, it was a modest home. The sounds of footsteps from the floor above echoed loudly, and the noise from the neighbors' TV could be heard through the thin walls and floors.

His sister-in-law smiled faintly, eyes downcast. 

"Things have been tough..."

"Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It's just that my brother had a pretty good job, so I thought..."

“It’s fine,” she said, shaking her head. 

"Two years ago, Shigeru quit his job and started his own business. He used his severance pay and savings to set it up, but then he got sick right after... With just me and the other employees, we couldn’t manage, and within six months, the business went bankrupt."

She put her hand to her cheek. 

“I think he must have been unwell for a while before that. But when starting the business, he got so busy… Being the kind of person he was, he always put himself last… By the time he realized it, it was too late.”

Momota glanced at his brother’s portrait again. Thinking of what must have been in his brother’s heart, tears welled up in his eyes once more.

"There were debts too, but we managed to bring them down to about three million yen by using the life insurance and selling the house. It'll probably be like this for another four or five years, but it'll be okay. I have these kids," she said.

Even with the children providing her some emotional support, they were expensive. While they were still in elementary school, it was manageable, but once they moved up to middle school, there would be more expenses—school fees, tutoring, and all that. Momota wanted to help, but his bank balance was less than two hundred thousand yen, and even that was only because he had managed to save ten thousand yen a month.

"Debt just keeps growing because of interest, right? What about asking your family for money?" 

His sister-in-law shook her head.

"My parents were against him starting a business. They said there was no need to quit a stable job. He went ahead with it anyway, so now I can’t exactly go back and ask them for money after it all failed and put us in debt..."

That night, Momota had dinner at his sister-in-law's place. "Sorry it isn’t much," she said, serving some simmered vegetables. They tasted just like his mother's cooking. The younger child clung to him the whole time, while the older one watched them both intently.

On his way back from his sister-in-law's place, Momota got off the train at Ikebukuro and went to "Joker," a bar he hadn’t visited in years. A bartender he knew was still working there, and Momota vented endlessly to him about wanting money.

"Look, I make a hundred thousand yen a month. Forty thousand goes to rent, and over twenty thousand for electricity, water, and my phone. Then there's food, so I don’t have anything left. Still, I try to save ten thousand yen a month, and even then, I've only managed to save up to two hundred thousand."

Maybe it was the alcohol, but he felt himself becoming unusually talkative. The bartender, looking a bit fed up, nodded in agreement, saying, "Two hundred thousand is a lot of money, you know."

"I want three million," Momota said.

"You buying a car or something?" the bartender asked.

"No, you idiot!" Momota shouted, slamming his fist on the counter. "If it’s something I want, I can live without it if I don’t have the money. But what I want is..."

"What do you want?" 

The man sitting next to him prompted. He wore a light green shirt, a pale yellow tie, and a beige suit. He looked a bit older than Momota.

Although he spoke to him like an old friend, Momota had never met this man before.

"What I want... Ah, I don't even know anymore. All I know is I need three million yen. I want to pay off the debt my dead brother left behind."

The man gave him a sympathetic look. 

“Were you a co-signer or something?”

“It’s not like that...” 

"Then there's no reason for you to pay it off, is there?" 

It was a reasonable point.

"My brother was a bastard who cut ties with me, but seeing his wife, I felt sorry for her. And the kids are so small…" 

The man next to him chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Momota glared.

“Sorry,” the man apologized. 

“You’re a good person, wanting to help even after being disowned. But you don't have to. Your brother made that debt in his own life; it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Momota shook his head. 

“…Still, he’s my brother. I can't just leave it alone.”

The man said, "For someone who's talking about money and debt, you seem to be enjoying yourself."

Momota laughed.  "Yeah, even trash has its uses, you know."

"Trash?" the man asked.

"…Nothing. Anyway, I guess a guy with no education, no looks, and no strength has to work in the adult industry. But are there any decent places left in that line of work?"

“You’re funny,” the man said. “So, even in the adult industry, you want somewhere decent?”

“Look, I’ve done time, you know? And I promised my current partner I wouldn't do anything bad again. If I mess up, I’d have to break up with them. If they dumped me, I’d seriously have no reason to live.”

“Wow, you’re quite something,” the man laughed, shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s no joke. I’ve decided that if I ever die, it’ll be because Ron-chan dumped me.”

“Ron-chan?” 

Momota grinned. 

"My partner. Good-looking, smart, kind... It took me two years to win him over."

"That’s impressive," the man muttered, looking a bit impressed.

"When you know there's no one else for you, anyone can try their best, right?"

The man fell silent, and Momota ordered another glass of shochu. 

"I really need some money... Maybe I’ll win the lottery or something."

With his face pressed against the counter, Momota heard the man's voice.

"If you want money, why don’t you come work for me? I'll pay you three hundred thousand a month."

Momota looked up at the man, his brow furrowing at what seemed like a shady offer.

“What kind of work do you do?” he asked.

The man smiled. 

"I run a delivery-based adult entertainment business. I’m the boss, but I’m in need of a manager."

"Delivery? So, like a call girl service?" 

“Something like that. We don’t do full service, though, so managing the girls is a bit of a hassle."

They talked about various things, but maybe because he was drunk, Momota couldn't remember much of it. The next morning, he woke up and found the man's business card in his wallet, which reminded him of their conversation.

A good deal always has a catch. Doubting it inside but unable to resist the allure of 300,000 yen a month, Momota called Yuji Suzuhara, the man from the business card, at 11 p.m. after finishing his shift at the Chinese restaurant. They agreed to meet at a 24-hour fast-food restaurant in Ikebukuro.

Suzuhara wanted to run his business conservatively, without expanding too much—his approach seemed pragmatic for someone in this line of work. He even showed Momota the office in Ikebukuro, and his first impression was that it was "dirty." The same went for the girls' waiting room. In Momota's experience, a dirty shop often meant trouble, a sign that management wasn’t doing their job well.

“The previous manager was skimming money with one of the girls. I fired them both, but since I don't handle the day-to-day myself, I’m not familiar with the ins and outs of this business,” Suzuhara explained.

Momota thought it was a waste given the good location of the shop. Plus, Suzuhara didn't seem as shady as he had initially suspected; the fact that their second conversation wasn’t over drinks and wasn’t vague also made a good impression.

But if he became a manager, he wouldn't be able to keep his job at the Chinese restaurant, which was his lifeline. Even though he only made 100,000 yen a month there, losing that income would immediately put him in a tough spot.

"Honestly, do you think this place is profitable?" Momota asked bluntly.

"Without full service, it’s just dragging along. Clients are fickle by nature, so if you want to go with a slow and steady approach, why not focus on niche clientele, like scatology or S&M?"

"There’s certainly a sense that things are declining. Maybe a name change would help too. Anyway, how about you try managing the place for a month? I’ll even pay you in advance," Suzuhara offered.

Momota couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Advance payment? What if I just took the money and ran? You’d be screwed."

Suzuhara’s eyes widened in surprise. 

"You seem like the kind of guy who could do a good job. Besides, someone planning to run off wouldn’t bring it up in the first place."

Momota was only speaking from experience, but being trusted so unexpectedly made him feel uncomfortable. Still, he thought, this place could really turn around if managed well. Convinced, he agreed to the manager's position on the spot, and the next day, he quit the Chinese restaurant where he had worked for over two years.

He had no doubts about changing jobs. He had already received a month's salary in advance, and if things didn’t work out, he could always find another job.

Momota ran the shop faithfully according to Suzuhara's words. They even changed the shop’s name to "Punish Me♪ Emanuel Club." This wasn’t a completely unfamiliar world to him, so he could understand the quirks and types of the girls to some extent. Still, it was tough to straighten out the once-accepted practice of "extra charges for full service."

Momota dealt with the girls sincerely. Even those working in the adult entertainment industry weren't stupid. They could tell the difference between genuine talk and empty words. Those who still wanted to make money even if it meant doing full service left the shop, and only those willing to follow the rules remained.

A month into his job as a manager at the adult entertainment shop, Momota still hadn’t told his partner that he had changed jobs. Even though it was legal, it was still the sex industry. He didn’t think he would approve.

Then one day, Ron-chan, who had come over to stay, said, “I have something important to talk about today.” Finally… the breakup talk had come, Momota thought in despair, sitting across from his partner, nervously on his knees.

Compared to how he had half-forced himself on Ron-chan at the start, the past year they had been a couple had felt like heaven. His body was satisfied, but more than that, his heart felt completely fulfilled.

He had been in relationships before, but they were always half-hearted affairs that ended just as easily, like the end of a drug trip.

One person was enough… He hadn’t known that being cared for, feeling loved by someone, could make him this happy. Just being near them calmed him, and their touch reassured him. When Ron-chan laughed at his silly jokes, he was happy until the moment he closed his eyes at night.

But even amidst all this happiness, he felt anxious. He feared that one day he would be abandoned. He had a sense that his smart and handsome partner would eventually get tired of someone as average-looking and unintelligent as him, who wasn’t even good enough to trade in. He had always known deep down that this day would come. After all, someone like him could never be a good match. Just having them by his side for a year was more than he deserved.

Before his partner could even open his mouth, tears were already streaming down Momota's face, dripping onto his clenched hands.

“Momota, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.”

“How can I not worry? Why are you crying?”

Ron-chan came closer and looked into Momota's face.

"I thought… the time had finally come, haha…”

Ron-chan's expression changed. 

“What do you mean, ‘the time had come’?”

“You want to break up with me, don’t you?”

"Did you think I was going to say that?"

“Isn’t that it?”

Ron-chan, who rarely got angry, had a stern, frowning face.

“Did I ever say something cruel to you or anything that would hurt your feelings?”

“No, it’s not like that…”

Momota's voice grew smaller.

“Then why do you think I’m here to talk about breaking up?”

“Well, because…”

“Is it because you think you can’t trust me since I’m younger than you?”

“You’re way more mature than me, Ron-chan.”

Ron-chan exhaled sharply and pressed his right hand to his forehead. In the silence, Momota nervously asked, 

“A-are you mad?”

“…A little.”

Momota was too scared to say anything to his angry boyfriend. After a long silence, Ron-chan finally spoke.

“When did you quit the Chinese restaurant?”

“Huh?”

Ron-chan looked directly at Momota. 

“I went to the restaurant yesterday, and they said, ‘Momota quit about a month ago.’ Why did you leave?”

Momota looked down. 

“Because I found a new job.”

“What kind of job?”

He didn’t want to say... He clenched his teeth.

“What does it matter what I do for work?”

“I want to know.”

Ron-chan persisted. 

“Is it a job you can’t tell your partner about?”

The word “partner” struck him in the chest.

“It’s not like that, but…”

“Then tell me.”

Cornered and unable to back down, Momota muttered quietly, "Manager of a call girl shop." Ron-chan's eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth tightened in a frown.

“It’s... it’s an adult shop, but it’s legit. No full service, just oral or handjobs. The owner is a decent guy…”

“Why an adult shop?” Ron-chan’s voice was firm.

"Why? Because the pay is good… About three times more than my last job. A guy like me, with no skills and a criminal record, doesn’t have many options. And I’ve done jobs like working at the front of a sex shop, calling in customers, or staffing a pin-up bar before, so I’m used to it."

“Do you want money?” 

Ron-chan’s tone was quiet.

“Well, yeah. Honestly, right now, I’m just scraping by…”

“Is there something specific you want to buy?” 

“Not really, I just want to save up a bit more.”

Ron-chan fell silent. After a long, long pause, he muttered, “I understand.”

“You understand?”

“You quit the Chinese restaurant and became a manager at a legal call girl shop because you want money, right?”

“Yeah, but… is that okay?”

Momota glanced up nervously. 

“It’s not about being okay or not. I have no right to oppose what you’ve decided. I’m just worried because such a job might involve a lot of temptation.”

“I promise, I won’t touch drugs. And if the shop ever does anything shady, I’ll quit immediately. If I get thrown back in prison, I wouldn’t see you for years, and I don’t want that.”

Ron-chan smiled slightly. Momota scooted closer and squeezed his partner’s hands tightly. 

“I really love you, Ron-chan.”

“I love you too, Momota-san,” Ron-chan replied earnestly.

“But I think the way you love me, you could still change your mind,” Momota said.

Ron-chan tilted his head in confusion.

“But my love for you is the first and last one I'll ever have.”

Momota gently kissed his partner’s hand, pouring his feelings into it.

“Do you trust me so little?” Ron-chan asked.

Momota looked up. 

“Why do you think I’ll change my mind someday?”

“There are plenty of better people in the world than me. In fact, almost everyone is better. It’s not your fault, Ron-chan. I’m just a mess…”

As he spoke, he wondered when he would ever be able to stand proudly in front of Ron-chan. It felt like that day would never come, no matter how hard he worked from now on.

Maybe he should have just been honest, saying he wanted to earn money to pay off his brother’s debt and help his sister-in-law and nephews a bit. Maybe Ron-chan would have praised him, saying, “That’s admirable.” But he didn’t want to say that.

He wasn’t the kind of person who would help others; claiming he was earning money for the sake of someone else felt like a lie, and he had no idea how long he could keep it up. Leaving things half-finished would be the most pathetic of all.

With Ron-chan's approval, Momota dedicated himself to his role as manager of the call girl shop. Troubles with clients were an everyday occurrence, and he had to be vigilant to make sure no girls were breaking the rules, sneaking in full-service acts. In this industry, one report from a client saying, “They do full service there,” could shut down the shop. His own neck was on the line too.

There were many hassles, but he enjoyed the job. The owner was straightforward, and he had put his full trust in Momota, a former convict he had scouted from a bar. Until now, all he had done were low-level jobs just to earn money, never being entrusted with any real responsibility, so he was even happier.

About a year after Momota started as a manager, his sister-in-law asked to meet him. At a coffee shop near the station, in a seat by the sunny window, his brother's wife, looking a bit thinner, bowed her head slowly toward Momota.

“We finished paying off the debt this month. So, you don’t need to send us any more money,” she said.

Caught off guard, Momota could only respond clumsily, “Oh, really?”

“Sending 200,000 yen every month must have been a lot,” she continued.

“Well, not really…”

His sister-in-law took out a handkerchief and gently dabbed at her eyes.

“I kept thinking I shouldn’t rely on you just because you’re Shigeru’s brother, that I shouldn’t take advantage of your kindness, but I couldn’t refuse because I was so deeply grateful. The money was a big help, but more than that, it was comforting to know there was someone who would help me without expecting anything in return.”

A familiar feeling pricked at his chest.

“Thank you so much for everything. I’ve thought a lot about it, but I’m going to try living without pushing myself too hard anymore. Next month, I’m taking the kids and moving back to my parents’ place in the countryside. When I consulted them, they encouraged me to do so. I’ll repay the money you sent, even if it takes years.”

“There’s no need to repay it. I didn’t have any plans for that money anyway. Besides, there was my parents' debt that my brother had to cover, so…”

His sister-in-law looked at him steadily.

“I’m so glad someone as kind as you was Shigeru’s brother. Really, thank you so much.”

She left the shop first, saying she had to go to work. As she left, she said she would contact him once things settled down and invited him to visit the countryside.

Even after his sister-in-law left, Momota stayed at the shop for a while. It felt strange. She had thanked him countless times, someone like him, a three-time felon. He had only sent money, really just money...

In his mind, he spat out, "Serves you right," to his damn brother in heaven. "See? Even I can do something if I try." As he laughed softly, tears began to well up and drip down from his eyes. He rested both elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands.

His chest felt warm, happy. He was happy, yet tears fell. He wasn’t sad, yet he cried.

He wanted to shout out loud that even he could do something worthy of gratitude. He wanted to ask if this redeemed at least one piece of his garbage self.

…He wanted to see Ron-chan, right now. That’s what Momota thought.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

If I didn't have to make monthly payments, I wouldn't need to keep working as a manager at the escort service. It doesn't take that much money to get by day to day. 

Ron accepted my work in the sex industry, but deep down, I'm sure he doesn't think well of it. Even though I know I should probably quit, I found it hard to let go of the "place" I'd built over the past year. 

The boss recognized and trusted me. The girls relied on me too. There were plenty of troublesome customers, but I knew how to handle them. More than anything, I felt like this job suited me, someone who didn't mind being deferential to others. 

So, I didn't quit the job. Just a step behind the scenes, there were drug dealers, and as I walked down the street, familiar yakuza would call out to me. It was a place close to the world where you could easily end up with your hands behind your back. But I was confident that I would never fall into that world again. 

Because I had Ron. I had a kind lover who loved me, even though I was a no-good guy. As long as I had Ron, I was sure I'd be okay.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

Kimura's call came three days after Momota had sold himself with the plea, "Could you let me be a drug dealer?"—driven by the desire to gather any information on the Matsuzaka gang’s meth operations for Ron-chan.

"I don't plan to use you up and throw you away like some foreign dealer. That's why I want to introduce you to my big bro, the underboss," Kimura had said.

Just as Momota was locking up the office and getting ready to head home, his phone rang. In the dimly lit hallway, his heart pounded.

"My bro is a friendly guy," Kimura continued over the phone. "Just think of it as a quick hello. Can you come to the place I’m about to tell you, right now?"

After hanging up, Momota’s body trembled. He was pleased that Kimura had put in a good word for him. But the idea of suddenly meeting the underboss made him nervous. Knowing how strict the yakuza hierarchy was, it made it all the more intimidating.

Kimura had directed him to the fifth floor of a multi-tenant building within the Matsuzaka gang's territory, to a bar called "Paul." Though it was near his office and he had passed by the building several times, this was his first time entering.

The inside of the bar was simple, with black tables and deep green sofas that created a calm atmosphere. The walls were adorned with framed drawings that looked like they had been scribbled by children with pencils.

There were no customers; only two bartenders stood behind the counter. It seemed the place had been cleared out for some reason. Inside the bar, to the right, there was a sturdy-looking wooden door. Kimura lightly knocked on the brown door.

“It’s Kimura.”

“Come in,” came a muffled voice from the other side.

Kimura opened the door and gestured for Momota to enter.

It was a small private room. Deep green sofas formed a U-shape around a large black low table. In the center sat a man in his mid-forties, and to his right were a young man and woman, both appearing to be in their early twenties.

The man seated in the center had to be the underboss Kimura had mentioned. He wore a shiny patterned shirt under a black suit and a gold necklace around his neck. Although his mouth wore a smirk, his eyes were devoid of any mirth. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he exuded a strange aura just by sitting there, leaning back with a commanding presence. Kimura could be intimidating, but this man’s intensity was on a different level altogether.

Afraid to make eye contact with the man, Momota shifted his gaze to the young man and woman sitting on the right. The young man wore a knit cap and oversized clothes that didn’t fit his body. The woman beside him had a short haircut and was dressed in a camisole and a miniskirt. The room was heated to the point of sweating, so their summer-like attire didn’t seem cold.

While the man seemed inconspicuous, the woman, who was giggling for some unknown reason, immediately struck Momota as "trouble." He'd seen eyes like that before. His ex used to have that same look all the time.

"Big bro, this is Yasuo Momota, the guy I’m thinking of bringing on to handle our sales from now on," Kimura introduced.

Momota bowed deeply and said, "Nice to meet you." When he looked up, the underboss narrowed his eyes in a displeased expression, tilting his chin.

“This guy has a record, right?” 

Kimura flinched visibly. 

"Yes, but Momo-san—"

"Don’t screw around!" 

The underboss's loud shout made Momota's back shiver.

"What the hell are you thinking, you idiot?! Do you have any idea what kind of situation the clan is in right now because of you? We’re already under the cops’ watch, and bringing in someone with a drug conviction is like handing them our heads on a silver platter!"

Despite the shouting, Kimura stepped forward without backing down.

“But, underboss, we’re short on salesmen right now. Foreigners are attracting even more attention, and for a while, we can't catch customers in Shinjuku or Ikebukuro. Momo-san also has a record, so he’s planning to avoid street sales and discreetly distribute through his old connections.”

The underboss kicked the table with the heel of his shoe. A glass toppled over, and the spilled liquor dripped onto the floor.

“It was your fault that the foreign sellers got busted too! Your lack of discipline caused them to spill their guts under pressure. You should have been put down for it, but I begged the boss to settle it with just one finger.”

Kimura’s lips tightened as he bit down in frustration.

“We don’t need some dangerous guy like that, and a drug addict is the worst of all! What if he steals from the shop?”

“Momo-san is fine. And—”

The underboss groaned loudly, “Ahh, ahh, ahh,” shaking his head from side to side.

“Shut up, shut up already! Stop yammering and kick that filthy junkie out right now!”

The woman next to the young man suddenly burst into laughter. Even though the young man tried to stop her, her laughter didn’t cease.

"Throw that bitch out too! Or I'll kill her!"

The young man grabbed the woman by the arm and pushed her out of the room. Sensing the tense atmosphere, Momota followed her out.

There were still no customers in the bar. Momota headed straight for the elevator and pressed the "down" button. He was disappointed to have been rejected from even the lowest level of involvement in the organization’s sales, but he also felt relieved. The underboss's words were reasonable; it was true that having a criminal record would draw more attention.

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, the woman jumped in. She had put on a white down jacket with fur over her camisole. Slightly out of breath, she looked up at Momota and smiled.

“You’re really ugly.”

The elevator began to descend slowly. Momota turned away from her and muttered, “Maybe I am ugly.”

“Oh? You’re not angry?” 

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

The elevator reached the first floor. He checked his watch. There was still time before the last train, so he walked quickly toward the station.

"Hey, wait up!" 

Ignoring her, he suddenly felt a weight on his right arm. The woman had wrapped herself around his arm, clinging tightly.

“Hey, do you see that guy with the dreadlocks over there?”

Momota turned and saw a black man standing there.

“He’s an American spy. He’s got a gun. He’s after me. If I’m alone, he’ll definitely kill me.”

“I don’t think anyone is trying to kill you,” Momota replied.

“I’m sure of it. I just know it.”

Rina's eyes were wild and intense. Momota felt a bit exasperated. It was the typical paranoia of a meth user. He had heard similar things from an ex who had used drugs.

“There’s a murderer over there. The FBI is after me. The police are tailing me.”

It used to take hours to explain that those things weren’t true, to get him to understand—and sometimes, he never did. 

Explaining it to a random junkie was even more of a hassle. Momota kept walking towards the station with Rina still clinging to his arm.

“Hey, hey, isn’t it hard living with that weird face of yours?” 

He ignored her, thinking he might as well be the one to kill her instead of that black guy with dreadlocks. 

“When people call you ugly, doesn’t it make you want to die?”

“Not really,” Momota spat out.

“When people call me ugly, I feel like dying.” 

The light turned red, and they stopped. 

“You’ve got a bad personality, but you’re actually kind of pretty, you know?” he said.

Suddenly, Rina smiled widely. 

“What do you know, you’re actually a nice guy. I thought you'd be more of a mess since they called you a junkie.”

He didn’t expect a full-fledged junkie to call him one. The light turned green. As he stepped forward, her grip tightened on his arm.

“The spy’s gone, so let go,” he said.

“Hey, hey, you got any ‘ice’?”

She was begging for meth. “I don’t have any,” he said, annoyed.

“Liar, you must have a little,” she pressed.

“I told you, I don’t have any.”

“Then introduce me to someone who does. Lately, Mizuki hasn’t been giving me any. If you do, I’ll let you do it with me, just once.”

Momota roughly shook off her arm. 

“I’ve quit that stuff. Maybe you should quit too… You’ll end up dead otherwise.”

Rina giggled.

“I’m not gonna die. I was even willing to let you have a go,” she said.

“I’ve got a real partner, alright? I’m not lacking for anyone,” Momota replied.

The girl pointed at him and laughed.

“With that face? What a joke.”

“It may be a joke, but it’s true. Sorry to disappoint.”

He hurried on, leaving the clingy woman behind. But Rina ran ahead of him, blocking his path. He had no choice but to stop, and she suddenly kicked him hard in the right shin. The pain was so intense that he groaned and crouched down.

“What the hell are you doing, you bitch?!”

He had held back since she was a woman, but now he was furious.

“I hate how cocky you are. Do you really think you’re loved with a face like that?”

“You idiot, looks have nothing to do with it! Why are you coming at me like this? I told you I don’t have anything!”

“It’s all out of pity anyway.”

Her words made his heart jolt.

“They’re only letting you be with them out of mercy.”

A sharp pain stabbed his chest. At first, it was true; it had been out of pity that he had gotten to hold him. He’d used the idea of "his own rehabilitation," which had no real meaning to Ron-chan, as leverage.

But now, he believed he was truly loved. Otherwise, why would Ron-chan come to his apartment on his precious days off?

“Even if it’s pity, that’s fine! I’m the one in love here!” he shouted.

“If they find a better man, they’ll throw you away in no time.”

The words hit hard, without mercy. He had imagined it before—if Ron-chan found someone else, he’d be discarded quickly. The thought that even a stranger he’d met just minutes ago could see his worthlessness made it feel as though his imagination was turning into reality, sinking his heart with despair.

He stayed crouched, hugging his knees.

“Yeah, maybe I deserve to be dumped,” he muttered.

He was frustrated, almost to the point of tears, at being put in his place by some girl who didn’t know a thing.

“My face is ugly, I’m stupid, I dropped out of high school, I used to be on drugs, I’ve been to jail… People would think I’m just trash…”

Tears welled up in his eyes and dripped onto the street.

“Hey, gross. Why are you crying?” 

He cursed her in his mind, It's your fault!

“Even if you cry, it just makes you look disgusting, so stop,” she said.

Hearing that even his tears were disgusting, that even expressing his feelings was an annoyance, left him speechless.

“Hey, you’re in the way sitting here like this,” she said, her hand touching his shoulder.

“Come on, over here,” she urged.

When he didn’t reply, she grabbed his arm, pulled him up forcefully, and started dragging him along. She took him to the side of a shop, next to a vending machine.

There were two dull clanks, and one of the cans, a warm can of coffee, was pushed into Momota’s hand. Beside him, Rina drank her soda with a loud gulping sound.

“That’s on me,” she said to Momota, who hadn’t touched the can. Despite her offer, he didn’t feel like drinking and left the pull tab unopened.

Rina, still in her miniskirt, slumped down against the wall. She gave a small tug on his jeans, as if to tell him to sit down beside her, but he ignored her. This time, she pulled harder, almost causing him to topple over, so he reluctantly sat down.

“Hey, I can see your panties from here,” Momota muttered. 

“Pervert,” Rina frowned, moving her knees slightly to cover herself.

They sat there in silence, both watching people heading towards the station.

“Your face can’t be helped, but there are night schools, right? Why don’t you try going there?” she asked.

He didn’t understand why she was suddenly suggesting night school, but he answered anyway.

“I hate studying. Besides, I work nights.”

“What do you do?”

“I manage an adult entertainment shop.”

“Ah, I see,” Rina nodded, looking unimpressed.

“I think I’m pretty good at it,” he added.

She laughed in a high-pitched tone.

“‘Pretty good,’ huh? It’s just an adult shop.”

Momota felt annoyed. 

“Even in the adult industry, dealing with the girls and negotiating with clients is tough. Don’t belittle my job.”

Rina pouted and fell silent. Momota lowered his gaze.

“…Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Rina looked up at him.

“Because I yelled.”

“You’re weird.”

Rina finished her soda and tossed the empty can. She didn’t seem to aim at anyone, and the can bounced along the asphalt with a metallic clatter.

Momota shoved the can of coffee into his jacket pocket and slowly stood up. He picked up the empty can that Rina had tossed and threw it into the vending machine’s trash bin.

"...Well, see you. I’m heading home," he said, giving a quick farewell. Rina immediately sprang up.

“Hey, tell me your name, old man.”

Without thinking, he blurted out, “No way.” For a moment, Rina looked like she was about to cry.

"Momota... Yasuo Momota," he quickly added.

Her expression shifted, and she murmured, “Momota, huh?”

“Weird name. Oh well. Hey, Momota, want to hang out sometime when you’re free?” 

“I’m never free…”

“Hmm. Then let me see your phone.”

He ignored her, but she asked again, “Come on, let me see it.” Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone, and she exclaimed, “Wow, this is an old model!” before snatching it from his hand and fiddling with it.

“What are you doing?”

When he tried to take it back, she dodged him with a twist of her body and suddenly tossed the phone back to him.

“I saved my number and email address for you,” she said.

He checked the phone and saw the name “Rina” had indeed been added to his contacts.

“See you, Momota.”

Rina slapped his shoulder hard enough to hurt, then turned around and walked back the way they had come, her arm swinging as she went.

See you? No way. Momota thought he never wanted to see a woman with such a nasty personality ever again.

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