Chapter 38: 38

It's a little early for dinner. The sun will be setting soon and the sky will be dark. 

 

I was walking through the city crowds to my usual coffee shop. There was only one reason. To talk with Yamamoto. 

 

The moment I entered the store, the smell of cigarettes wafted through my nose. The place seems to be well ventilated and deodorized, but the smell of cigarettes is still persistent. It sticks to the walls and ceiling. I could smell it even though there were no other customers in the restaurant. I can feel the age or history of this restaurant. 

 

When the master saw my face, he grinned at me in an easy-to-understand manner. 

 

"Yo. Your girlfriend's not here yet." 

 

"It's not like that......." 

 

He's making fun of me. I'm having a hard time replying to him. 

 

I make up a grim face and sit down at the counter. "You sure you don't want a table?" Master asked me, but I couldn't say I hadn't thought about it. 

 

It's totally my usual habit. Because I don't think about anything and only think about smoking as soon as I sit down anyway. 

 

However, I felt a little uncomfortable to face her now. The reason is very simple: I can't talk well with her if I meet her face to face. I'm sure. That's why I'm fine at the counter. I light a cigarette, and the fine smoke spreads over my entire body. 

 

"It's still as desolate as ever, isn't it?" 

 

"Shut up. It's more convenient that way, right?" 

 

"......" 

 

That's what I did to get the master to say that. After I got off the phone with  Yamamoto, I called this restaurant. I didn't want to go there in the first place and find that it was closed for an irregular vacation. 

 

But this was the first time I did that. First of all, I had never even thought of calling the landline here. Of course, the master would get suspicious. 

 

As for me, I just let it go and let him think so. The main reason is that she wants to apologize. It would be more relaxed to talk at a restaurant where we both know each other. 

 

I wonder why I called her when I was at...... that's why. I didn't think anything of it, but it's funny when I think about it. I don't mind though. 

 

The bell rings. It rings with a clang, the end of the sunset. Cigarette in hand, I looked at the entrance with a sideways glance. 

 

A long gray skirt danced softly. A white knit sweater under a green outerwear. All of them were plain and simple, but she wore them beautifully. 

 

In this space, steeped in the smell of cigarettes, she brought with her a peachy scent, just like that day. She brought with her a sweet, tantalizing feeling that would rival any other scent. 

 

"Hello. Master." 

 

"Welcome." 

 

What the hell? I was raving about it in my heart. 

 

I can't believe she greeted him first, instead of me. It's so sad. I was so frustrated that I smoked a cigarette as hard as I could and exhaled the smoke as much as I could. I turned my face away from her so that she wouldn't see me. 

 

"Oh, are you sulking?" 

 

And yet you're acting so comfortable. It pisses me off. You came up next to me and tried to look into my face, so I quickly put out my cigarette. 

 

"I was just exhaling smoke. Just looking out for you." 

 

"Heh." 

 

A look that seems to see right into your heart. It's not pointed, but round and gentle. There's enough wavering in his gaze to make me accept it. 

 

She skips one seat and sits down, taking off her outerwear and carefully placing it on the seat next to her because the heat is on. White knit sweater and long gray skirt. 

 

She looks a little plain, but when I look down at her feet, I see that she is wearing peach-colored sneakers. What can I say, she has an amazing way with colors. 

 

"What's wrong?" 

 

"No, I just thought they were fashionable." 

 

I'm such a fashion snob. Far from it. Ideally, I'd like my clothes to be cheap and durable, but unfortunately, I know that's not realistic. So I go for cheap. 

 

Even today, under my coat, I'm wearing a hoodie and jeans in a college student style. I've been wearing this undercoat for a long time, and I can get by with changing only the top. I can get by if I just change the top. 

 

"Oh, thanks,......." 

 

If I told her it wouldn't be so embarrassing, she would surely get angry again. Realizing that I had no delicacy of stone, I swallowed my words and made eye contact with the master. 

 

"What can I get you?" 

 

He asked with a deliberate sigh. He said he was dumbfounded. If that's the case, don't listen to the customer's conversation. 

 

"Well, what do you want......?" 

 

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"Whatever I want?" 

 

"Yeah. Just don't be shy, okay? It's an apology." 

 

From what she said, it sounds like her anger over the phone has subsided. I'm glad for now. They say don't be shy, but it is human to be cautious even at times like this. 

 

However, if I had been in her shoes, I would have said the same thing. I could easily imagine her making all kinds of difficulties, saying that it would not be an apology if she was too modest. 

 

"I guess it's curry and coffee after all......." 

 

It's been quite a while since I opened the menu and looked at it, but those words leaked out naturally. I may eat a sandwich or something, but not with that stomach. The only rice-based thing I can think of is curry. 

 

"That's the usual one, isn't it?" 

 

"Hmm. But this is what I want to eat the most." 

 

"......is it?" 

 

"Besides, it's the most delicious." 

 

Not the most expensive price-wise. Maybe that's what she's worried about. The first thing people do when they are told not to be shy is to choose the "most expensive". It's no wonder she wonders. 

 

"Then I'll have that one, too. Please, Master." 

 

"Yes, sir. Coffee after dinner?" 

 

"Yes." 

 

The master disappears into the kitchen. We are now completely alone, but I did not ask for coffee beforehand. I have a great hand placement problem. Or should I say, a sense of being out of touch? 

 

"......You know what?" 

 

"Yeah." 

 

She said kindly to me as I took a sip of cold water. I almost told her that I had heard her apology over the phone and that she didn't need to apologize anymore. 

 

But Yamamoto looked more blown away than I had expected. 

 

"I've signed a contract. With Kanako's office." 

 

I felt as if the jazz that was playing in the restaurant stopped for that moment. Just for a moment. It was a little too weird to think it was just my imagination. 

 

"That's your first step. Congratulations." 

 

A prickle of pain in my chest. I cough and fool my body before it spreads throughout my body. Why am I so flabbergasted when I'm throwing out words of congratulations? I'm not quite sure. 

 

If I had to use an analogy, yes, it's like I'm screaming at her in the fog, in the darkness with no way to see what's ahead. 

 

"Yeah. Thanks." 

 

Fluffy. I don't feel like my words are reaching her, but her voice is resonating well. I don't know if this is her true feelings or not, but I am sure that Miina Yamamoto's heart is next to mine. 

 

But it is somehow more bitter and lonely than what I had imagined. Why is she crying? I felt like asking her why she was crying. 

 

"Then I guess we won't be seeing each other as often as we used to." 

 

"......" 

 

"I'll miss you, but...... I don't have a choice." 

 

If she returns to show business after her attempted scandal, she will surely be a target. Besides, the voices on the internet may be more edged than we think. 

 

Kanako Miya is right, if I had met her, there's a good chance she'd start some unscrupulous rumors. 

 

Where there is no fire, there is no smoke. That is the current entertainment industry. Once a rumor gets out there, it will burn up and burn up the world. 

 

It could be that today is the last day. Maybe that's why she asked me to come to her, to tell me that she wanted to apologize. 

 

It didn't matter if my chest ached or tightened up in pain. I had to assume that it did not matter. If I didn't, I would hold her hand now and try to stop her. 

 

That's not the way it's supposed to be. It's not like I'm getting in the way of what she wants to do. So--. 

 

"Don't say - don't say - that you won't see me again." 

 

"Oh. Why would you say that?" 

 

I wanted to ask her back, but my throat was too tight to speak. No, I hadn't said anything, but I couldn't believe she was saying that. I knew she was reading my mind. 

 

"I can't tell you. I can't say that."

 

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