Work went by in a flash—by flash, I mean an endless cycle of yelling and cursing from the old man.

It’s been a month since I started working at the old man bar’s kitchen, but damn, I still haven’t gotten into the rhythm of this hellhole.

“Hey! That cut’s too thick! Are you feeding pigs?!”

There he goes again.

“Sorry!” I shouted back as I stared down at the pork braise I just ruined. For the fifth time today.

This old man was peak perfectionist—like if Gordon Ramsay was Japanese and somehow even scarier.

I swear one day, I’ll make him eat my cooking and say “not bad.” And when that day comes, I’ll cry right there in the middle of the kitchen like I just won a Michelin star.

Finally, after surviving another shift without burning the kitchen or crying in the walk-in fridge, I stepped out into the cool night air. My body was sore, my fingers smelled like garlic and meat juice, and my apron had oil stains that looked like modern art. But hey—freedom.

On my way home, I finally got the chance to check my phone.

99 messages.

I almost choked on air.

I squinted. “Don’t tell me Junpei’s sending his ‘my wife and I just brushed our teeth together’ updates again…”

But then I saw it—Rin. All 99 messages were from Rin.

Oh boy. I grinned. I already knew what it was about before I even opened them.

I tapped the first one.

DAD!

WHAT THE HELL?!!!

@÷^$&$*!?

YOU DIDN’T TELL ME!

THE CAKE!!!

HAD THAT MESSAGE

CHIYORI ALMOST SPAT OUT THE CANDLE

SHE’S NEVER GOING TO LET ME LIVE THIS DOWN

I HATE YOU

ARGHH!!!

Also… thanks. I guess. It was cute. But I still hate you.

I couldn’t help but chuckle while scrolling. I could practically hear her screeching through the texts.

My little prank worked perfectly—I’d written something super cringe and romantic from Rin to Chiyori, like “I’ll chase you in every life until you catch me in this one” or some cheesy anime nonsense message, and sealed it inside the box so Rin wouldn’t see it until it was too late.

Got you, kid.

I shoved my phone into my pocket with a satisfied grin, my steps a little lighter as I walked home.

---

“I’m home…” I called out.

No answer. Of course not. It was already 11:30 PM.

I sighed, thinking about tomorrow’s shift at the restaurant, and quietly walked to my room—only to nearly die of a heart attack.

“AHHH! Keiko! What the hell?!”

Keiko was sitting calmly on the bed, reading a book like some kind of horror movie spirit that appears in your room at night.

She looked up with a deadpan face. “Why are you screaming?”

“You startled me! Who just... sits there like that?”

“I’m reading,” she said flatly. “What? Am I supposed to sleep at 9 PM like an elementary schooler?”

Okay. She had a point. A very sharp, stab-me-in-the-chest kind of point.

“Well… uh… I just didn’t expect you to still be awake,” I muttered, rubbing my neck like an idiot.

“Clearly,” she replied and turned back to her book.

I changed into my pajamas, still mentally recovering from my near-death experience. As I settled beside her on the bed, I noticed she was still reading that same book.

“What are you reading anyway?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything.

“Horses,” she said, eyes still glued to the page.

“Horses?” I repeated, raising a brow.

I glanced at the cover. “The Living Encyclopedia of Horse.”

“Huh. Very… specific.”

“Mmm.”

I couldn’t help but smile. “So, what’s the most interesting thing you’ve read so far about horses?”

Keiko paused, gently closed the book, and turned to me.

That’s when it happened.

Her eyes lit up like stars in a countryside night sky. That quiet, serious Keiko turned into a passionate nerd in .2 seconds.

I loved it.

Her voice got a little faster as she explained, “Did you know horses can’t vomit? Their digestive system is a one-way street. Once it goes in, it has to go all the way out.”

I blinked. “Wait, what? That sounds… incredibly inconvenient.”

“It is. That’s why colic is super dangerous for them.”

I stared at her, then burst out laughing. “So, horses are basically brave little warriors fighting food battles with no retreat.”

She gave me a weird look. “That’s… not how biology works, Ryusei.”

“I’m just saying, if I were a horse, I’d be dead in two days. My stomach would lose the will to live after one bad ramen.”

She chuckled—chuckled! Keiko! The one who usually gives me a look when I joke too much.

We kept talking. Well, mostly she talked. About horses’ sleeping habits, their insane memory, how they form deep bonds with humans, and something about hoof care that sounded like horse pedicure appointments.

I didn’t realize how into it I was until I noticed how relaxed I felt listening to her voice.

We laughed, joked, and teased—somehow the room felt warmer even though the AC was on full blast. The kind of warmth that doesn’t come from temperature, y’know?

At some point, my eyes started getting heavy.

I don’t even remember when we both dozed off. One moment we were talking about horses’ field vision, the next, I was drifting into dreams with her voice still echoing in my ears.

I didn’t care if I didn’t get much sleep before tomorrow’s shift.

Because honestly, I could listen to her talk about horses forever.