That Half-Finished Drink Was Lethal— What Happened When I Left My Bottle Behind in a 1:4 Male-to-Female World - 29

Chapter 29: This Hold Was Unexpected — Until the Wings Take Flight Again

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“Maybe I should look for a job…”

I lay sprawled on my futon, scrolling through a job-hunting site on my smartphone.

Since the Ootori Group had withdrawn from the cafe business and the shop had been closed, I had successfully become a total NEET. It was then that a single notification tone echoed through the room.

The smartphone’s vibration shook the thin air of my cheap apartment. I lifted my face from where it had been slumped against the desk and peered at the screen, rubbing my heavy eyelids. It was a message on RINE. In the sender field was a name that felt like it was gripping my heart directly.

『【Important】 Notice Regarding Staff Re-employment for the Relaunch of Cafe ‘Les Ailes’』

“…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Just whispering that name caused my brain to freeze. The Ootori Group. Reika Ootori. That contract that bound me with a debt I couldn’t repay even if I spent my entire life trying. And the sight of her reaching her hand out toward me while she shed tears. Recovering from my paralysis, I used my finger to read through the body of the RINE message.

『At this time, Cafe ‘Les Ailes’ has completely separated from the Ootori Group and will make a fresh start under a new management structure. Accordingly, we would very much like to ask for the assistance of Yuuki-sama, who previously worked with us…』

Separated from the Ootori Group. That single sentence shook my thoughts. That shop actually was fun. I even had some regulars. 

(Oh, I wonder if Mr. Sato, the guy who ate three parfaits every single time, is doing okay.)

What flashed through my mind was the sense of fulfillment from my past days working in the dining hall and the kitchen. If the rumors that the owner had changed were true, maybe I didn’t need to be particularly afraid. With trembling fingertips, I tapped the reply button to request an interview.

“Boop… and there we go,” I muttered to myself.

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A few days later. I was walking down a path I had once been quite familiar with. What came into view was a cafe with impressive, sophisticated white walls. Previously, a massive Ootori emblem had been displayed at the entrance, intimidating the surroundings with its power. However, that crest had been neatly scraped off the current sign, leaving only the bare letters “Les Ailes” engraved there.

(…It really isn’t an Ootori shop anymore.)

I took one deep breath. Wiping away some cold sweat, I pushed open the heavy door. The nostalgic sound of a bell rang out—clink-clank. The moment I stepped inside, the familiar aroma of coffee tickled my nose.

“…Excuse me. I’m Yuuki, I have an appointment for an interview today.”

“We have been expecting you, Yuuki-sama.”

My heart leaped at the voice echoing from behind the counter.

From her secretary suit, which emphasized the lines of her body, rose a noble, aroma-like fragrance that swept away the cheap, burnt smells of the surroundings. Seeing her appear, clad in a beauty like a cold machine, I felt a pressure so heavy I forgot to breathe. I saw indigo eyes that harbored no emotion reflected in silver-rimmed glasses. The owner of the perfectly styled bob cut, Chihiro Kujo, was standing there.

“…Kujo-san…!?”

The moment I heard her voice, ice water seemed to run down my spine.

“It has been a long time, Yuuki-kun. …There is no need to be so frightened. I am no longer a member of the Ootori household.”

“…!!”

“Yes, the owner has changed. The Ootori family has relinquished everything. The rights to this shop, the land, all of it.”

Kujo looked at me not with the cold mask of a stoic butler like before, but with a gaze that was somehow gentle.

“The current owner is me. This was not funded by the Ootori family. I purchased this place with the personal secret money I had saved up over my many years as a secretary. To put it simply, it is my nest egg.”

“Kujo-san is… the owner?”

Confused, I shook my head violently. It didn’t matter if Kujo was the owner. If this person was here, it meant she was here too.

“…I’m sorry, I’d like to withdraw after all!”

I turned on my heel and put my hand on the doorknob. Behind me, Kujo’s voice flew out—sharp, yet pregnant with earnestness.

“Please, wait! The proprietor is me, Chihiro Kujo. I protected this place through my own will, not with Ootori funds. …And she, too, is trying to break those chains.”

“…Is Reika-sama here?”

An unpleasant sweat broke out all over my body.

“…I’m sorry, I’m leaving.”

Kujo stepped toward me without a sound. Her presence wasn’t that of a former enemy, but carried a desperate weight that felt almost like a prayer. Then, Kujo leaped out from behind the counter and bowed deeply before me, her body at a perfect right angle.

“I beg of you. If you look at her as she is now and still choose to leave… I will not stop you again. …But please, just one look is enough. See how she is now, and then make your decision.”

I stopped in my tracks at Kujo’s desperate plea. To think that she, who used to be filled with such absolute confidence, would bow her head this far.

“…Just a peek, okay? …I’m going home right after that.”

“…You have my gratitude.”

Urged on by Kujo, I circled around to the back entrance of the kitchen, taking care not to make a sound. Then, through a small crack in the door, I peered inside. In that instant, my internal brain-server spat out an error message.

(…Eh? No way. …Is that… Reika-san?)

The person there was not the Reika Ootori I knew. She was wearing a cheap apron—one that was discolored in places from being soaked with water—and was standing before a mountain of dishes. The only things echoing were the harsh sound of water and the dull clatter of ceramics hitting one another.

“…Ugh, ow…!”

Because of the steam and heat, her vertical ringlet curls—which should have been perfect—had collapsed, and large beads of sweat stood out on her forehead. Those hands, which once moved the world with a single flick of a finger and dominated everything with money and power as the daughter of the Ootori Group, were now covered in detergent suds and swollen red. Instead of the custom-made silk blouse of the Ootori Group, she wore a cheap apron, its hem miserably stained with mud and soap foam.

“…Ugh, ow… …It’s not… it’s not over yet…”

The clumsy sounds of clattering continued. Reika-san was struggling just to wash a single plate. I suppose “labor” wasn’t a subject included in the Ootori family education. The amount of detergent, how to use a sponge—everything was a matter of trial and error. Every time a plate almost slipped and fell, she would catch it with her slender body, clinging to it without regard for her appearance. Several bandages were already plastered on her fingers. It was easy to guess that she was also working hard at cooking with a knife.

These were chores she could have had someone else do without moving a finger if she still had the power of the Ootori. Now, she was doing them with “her own hands.”

“…I am… I am going to change…!”

Reika’s monologue echoed hollowly in the kitchen. In her eyes, there was no longer that arrogant light of a former ruler.

“…That’s enough.”

I stepped away from the kitchen door and turned back to Kujo-san, who was waiting behind me. Kujo-san quietly awaited my reaction, her eyes behind her glasses still making it impossible to read her emotions.

“…May I hear your answer?”

I looked around at the atmosphere inside the shop. The marks where the Ootori crest had been scraped off. The clumsily polished floor.

“…Kujo-san. I want to think about it for a bit… so, is it okay if we keep it on hold?”

“…So you will consider it, then.”

I didn’t miss the way the corners of Kujo-san’s mouth lifted by just a few millimeters.

“…I’ll get in touch with you again within a week.”

“…I understand. I look forward to hearing from you.”

Having finished the interview, I didn’t feel like going straight home, so I started walking toward the twilight streets. Reika’s reformation. The relaunch of Les Ailes.

“Sigh… what am I going to do?”

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Yuu closed the door, and the sound of the bell stopped. In the now-silent shop, Chihiro Kujo let out a deep, deep sigh. Resting her back against the wall, she covered her flushed cheeks with trembling fingertips.

“…Hehe… Ah, thank goodness. …Truly, thank goodness…”

Her mask, which had been bound by iron discipline, crumbled away for the first time without a trace. Her indigo eyes moistened, and a smile like a sunflower in full bloom—meant for no one to see—spilled out into the twilight-lit shop.

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