The Moon’s Ship That Crosses The Night: Chapter 5

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October 20th. 

The day was chilly enough that Kawase slipped his arms into his cotton coat. He had left home ten minutes earlier than usual and headed straight for the company’s general bulletin board by the entrance.

On the 20th of every month, personnel changes effective from the first of the following month were posted there. The announcements were also sent via company email, but the bulletin board was the fastest way to check.

If there were no personnel changes, there would be no notice—but today, there was.

For a brief moment, his heart leapt at the sight of the words “Product Planning Department” at the top of the paper.

But then—

"No way..."

He stared at the notice. The name listed under the new assignments for the Product Planning Department wasn't his.

And that wasn’t all. There was more.

"Sales Department – Shioka Yasuhiro: Effective November 1st, reassigned to the Hokkaido branch."

Other employees glanced at the board as they passed by, pausing for only a few seconds before heading off toward the elevators.

Kawase, on the other hand, stood frozen in place.

Finally, he made his way to the sales department, booted up his computer, and checked his email.

The personnel announcement was exactly the same as the bulletin board.

Just over two weeks since that miserable night.

Since then, Kawase hadn’t exchanged a single word with him beyond work-related conversations. Just being in the same room made his stomach churn. Hearing his laughter filled him with such rage he wanted to punch something.

But he had endured it, telling himself that it would all be over soon.

And yet, the man had broken his promise. He was leaving the sales department—just disappearing.

Like he was running away.

A terrible suspicion gripped him.

Had he been deceived?

Maybe that whole “I have influence over HR” thing was a lie.

Maybe he’d just been toying with him.

"Hey, did you see the bulletin board?"

Fukunomiya, from the desk next to his, leaned over.

"Ah... yeah."

"Man, Shioka’s reassignment is a shocker, huh? And not just a transfer—he’s becoming president of the Hokkaido branch. Crazy."

"Yeah... it is."

Fukunomiya leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh.

"Shioka’s got a real talent for leadership. No matter who takes over, people are bound to complain. Man... looks like my chances of getting into Product Planning just got even slimmer."

Kawase turned sharply.

"Wait… what do you mean?"

Fukunomiya glanced around before lowering his voice.

"I'll tell you, but keep it between us, alright? So, I actually asked Shioka if he could get me transferred to Product Planning. He seemed like the kind of guy who had pull in personnel, you know?"

He had thought the same thing. His throat went dry.

"I’ve been in sales for six years now, and I really want to move into planning. Been studying for it, too. Shioka told me, ‘It won’t happen right away, but I’ll talk to HR.’ But, well..."

"And then?!"

Kawase pressed him urgently, but Fukunomiya just looked puzzled.

"And then... what?"

"Did he... do anything for you?"

"Do anything? No, I just asked him. It’s not like he was making shady backroom deals or anything."

Inside his chest, the black butterflies stirred.

A restless, buzzing unease filled his head.

Fukunomiya kept talking, but Kawase only managed a vague “Yeah, I guess so,” not really processing the words.

The man who was always the first to arrive at the office still hadn’t shown up—not even after the morning meeting ended.

He was supposed to be out on visits, returning around six in the evening. But when Kawase glanced at his desk, there was no sign of him.

Not even his work bag.

When he asked Fukunomiya, the reply came easily.

"He came in once before noon, but then he left again right away."

"He looked insanely busy. I wanted to ask him something too, but I couldn’t even get a word in."

There was nothing more he could do, so he went home.

Even after getting back, his mind wouldn’t settle. The buzzing unease in his head wouldn’t fade.

He’d been deceived. That man had tricked him.

After everything, after all the humiliation—he wasn’t getting his transfer.

He was just going to be left with nothing.

That was the reality.

His stomach was empty, but he had no appetite. Even he could tell something was wrong with him. He forced himself to open a pack of cream bread he had stocked up on.

He had intended to eat it, but by the time he noticed, the bread was crushed to a pulp in his hands.

I can’t take this anymore.

Without thinking, he dialed the man’s number.

…No answer.

It felt deliberate, like he was being ignored on purpose.

That thought fueled his anger even more. His stubbornness took over, and he kept calling, over and over again.

After nearly thirty minutes, the call finally connected with a faint click.

"Hello, Shioka speaking."

There were a million things he wanted to say—so many that he couldn’t get a single word out.

From the other end, he could hear the noisy chatter of what sounded like a bar.

"…Kawase-kun?"

"Explain yourself."

His voice trembled.

"You promised. You said if I slept with you, you’d transfer me to Product Planning. So what the hell happened? Explain it to me!"

"Can you wait a moment?"

The background noise gradually faded, as if he was moving to a quieter location.

"I’m out drinking with my colleagues. I’m the guest of honor, so I can’t step away for long. About the transfer—I'm sorry."

"Don’t just ‘sorry’ me!"

His grip on his phone tightened.

"You—after everything you did to me…!"

His hands were shaking.

"You never intended to transfer me, did you? You dangled Product Planning in front of me just so you could use me. You probably thought I was just another young guy you could fuck and toss aside! Don’t fuck with me!"

Silence.

A long, suffocating silence.

Then—

"I did talk to the HR director. But they told me there was someone else they needed to transfer first."

From the background, a raspy voice called out, "Shioka! There you are."

"You can’t just disappear on us, man!"

"Ah, sorry."

"You left so suddenly, everyone’s been looking for you. Huh? You on the phone?"

"Yeah… a subordinate from work."

Kawase hung up.

There was no point in listening anymore. The truth was clear—he had been deceived. He had been used.

His mind boiled over. Heat surged through his entire body. He wanted to go find that man right now and beat him to the ground. Even though he had no idea where he was, he wanted to.

Right now, in this moment, he could kill him. Without hesitation.

He pulled a beer from the fridge. His uncle had warned him that drinking too much would only make his sleep worse. But he didn’t care anymore.

Like a man dying of thirst in the desert, he drank one after another.

When he ran out of cold ones, he grabbed the warm cans sitting outside the fridge, popping them open without a second thought.

At some point, his grip faltered, and the can slipped from his fingers.

Foamy beer spilled over his lap, bubbling up like a mockery.

And in that instant—

The dam broke.

Tears streamed down his face.

Sobbing, gasping for air, he drank.

And cried.

There was no one he could tell.

He couldn’t tell a soul that he had slept with his male superior in exchange for a transfer.

No one would console him.

They’d just laugh at him, say he deserved it. Sneer at him in disgust.

But back then, he had no choice.

No—if he really wanted to, he could have refused.

But he hadn’t.

Because he wanted Product Planning.

He didn’t want to wait years—maybe even a decade—for another chance.

And now, that man was leaving.Leaving after getting exactly what he wanted.

Thinking back on it, maybe it had all been calculated from the start.

A man in a position of power, casually sampling a subordinate he found attractive.

And since he was transferring, there would be no consequences.

If that was the case—He was the worst kind of man.

The lowest of the low.

A thought slipped into his mind.

I want to die.

I don’t want to be here anymore.

It’s humiliating. Disgusting.

Infuriating.

Infuriating.

Infuriating.

I’ll just die.

He tried to stand—

But his knees gave out beneath him, and he collapsed.

His face was wet. The spilled beer had seeped into the carpet, and its dampness felt cold against his cheek.

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