When I Picked Up A Stunningly Gorgeous Downer-Type Beauty In Front Of The Entrance. - Chapter 20: It's awkward to talk to a friend's mother in a cafe.

It’s awkward to talk to a friend’s mother in a cafe.

My treasure… it’s hard to resist calling it that, but the moment it was broken and the feeling pierced into my heart was one of emptiness, causing me to collapse to my knees and shed tears on that day, both near and far.

As I despaired over what I should live on from now on, I also felt relieved that the account couldn’t be found.

Indeed, the era is digital. Material things cannot withstand destruction or decay.

I won’t say what it was.

Several days passed since I keenly felt the fragility and transience of things.

“ “Ah…” “

Voices overlapped. It felt oddly familiar.

I was on my way to buy a coffee from the convenience store’s espresso machine when passing by my neighbor’s doorstep, I heard it.

The sky visible from the common hallway of the apartment building was dotted with fluffy cumulus clouds, indicating a summery day.

The surroundings were filled with the chirping of cicadas.

In the drainage ditch running along the edge of the hallway, cicadas were silently flipped over, adding to the summery atmosphere… Please don’t fly?

Despite such a bright summer day, there was a figure squatting in front of the neighboring apartment’s door like an abandoned cat, smudged and hugging her knees.

It was her, the mother.

Unlike before, she wasn’t wearing any makeup today.

Her attire wasn’t the skimpy erotic negligee from a few days ago either.

She wore a casual set of sweats, probably from an affordable clothing store.

Not that I’m disappointed. Seriously. I’m not.

Maybe it’s because of the reduced sexiness in her outfit, or perhaps because she wasn’t wearing makeup.

Her naturally resembling appearance, coupled with the overflowing atmosphere, made her look like a twin sister rather than a mother-daughter duo. They were more than alike; they were identical.

To think that the mother of Sajou-san seemed too young… but then again, it wasn’t even confirmed if she was the mother.

She definitely seemed to be over thirty, given that she bore Sajou-san, but there were no wrinkles, and her pores were not visible to the naked eye. “Beauty witch” would be an understatement; she was truly a modern-day witch.

But then again, it wasn’t even certain if she was a mother.

It might be an extremely rude misunderstanding on my part to think we looked alike when we passed each other.

Maybe she’s actually her sister or something.

I’ve never asked Sajou-san about her family structure.

In that case, it would be quite embarrassing if I was making such a rude mistake, but I’ll just stay silent with the spirit of not feeling embarrassed if I don’t say it.

I still don’t have the strong mental resilience of a comedian who exposes their shame and turns it into laughter.

After all, my mental state is still fragile from being broken just the other day.

Before my inner thoughts are exposed, I plan to pass by quietly.

Above all, it’s awkward considering the incident with that man I saw recently and all the nasty and erotic stuff.

“Hello.”

And, as I lightly nodded and tried to pass by with an innocent expression, I was unexpectedly called out with a thin, somewhat hesitant voice, “Um, excuse me…”

Could it be that she’s realized I’ve been treating her as a mother!?

I can’t read minds… but she’s a witch, so maybe… inwardly flustered but outwardly smiling, I turned back to see Sajou-san’s mother (pushing through), who looked troubled with her eyebrows forming a figure-eight, timidly asking,

“Um… Could we… have a little chat?”

“…Huh?”

I replied half-heartedly to her sweet voice that aroused my protective instincts.

Once again, I found another difference between her and Sajou-san.

Though their voices are similar in tone, the impression I got from her was completely opposite to Sajou-san’s cold and quiet voice. If I were to simplify it, she was cute and cool.

The appearance of Sajou-san from the Yellow team, the representative of the third aspect of passion, may be imminent.

But still, a chat?

Talking with a friend’s mother. It’s a downright awkward situation, leaving me with mixed feelings.

While I inwardly groaned at the thought of being asked about the nature of my relationship with her daughter, I nodded in agreement.

***

As if I were being led by the nose, I followed along.

We arrived at a café not far from the apartment building.

It was a prefab structure, standing alone surrounded by fields near the bus stop—a place you’d question why there’s a café there each time you passed by on your way home from school, with a big brown backdrop of fields stretching out endlessly.

There were no windows on the entrance side, so you couldn’t see inside.

All you could discern was the word “Café” swaying in the wind on a flag and the announcement that “We now serve hamburgers.” I wondered if they even had coffee.

Its appearance was far from stylish at first glance—enough to make you doubt if it was really a shop—which dampened any courage to enter.

That’s why it was my first time entering since it opened a year ago, and I trailed behind Sajou-san’s mother like a small child, nervously following along. Mama…

Contrary to its prefab appearance, the interior was surprisingly normal.

It was exactly what I imagined a café to be like.

Furniture made of wood, tables and chairs, and a stylish ceiling fan that slowly spun above like a whirligig. It was undeniably a café.

Guided by a young female waitress who came over, I sat in a chic chair that seemed to be carved directly from a log.

I felt nervous for some reason.

Sajou-san’s mother, sitting across from me, seemed accustomed to the atmosphere, as if she had been here many times before, every movement polished.

The waitress, with a strong sense of familiarity, asked Sajou-san’s mother, “The usual?” While I, feeling nothing but a sense of being a novice, stared at the menu on the table and stammered, “Um… coffee, please,” as if I couldn’t help but exude a sense of inexperience.

“Would you like it hot or cold?” asked the waitress.

“U-um, cold…” I panicked, even though the interior was cooled by air conditioning, feeling like I was about to melt like ice from the heat rising within my body.

What am I doing?

Feeling pathetic, as if a dry laugh might escape, Sajou-san’s mother suddenly spoke in an apologetic tone.

“I’m sorry, really. For calling you out so suddenly. And making you come all the way here.”

“N-No, it’s fine.”

Truly. In many ways.

Actually, it would have been more troublesome at home.

Whether to go up to her place or invite her up to mine.

At first, Sajou-san’s mother invited me up, but I politely declined.

There were two reasons. One was that I felt bad for Sajou-san.

Even though neither of us asked about each other’s circumstances, going up to her place without her knowing felt like violating a sacred, off-limits territory. I didn’t want to intrude, nor did I want to be intruded upon.

Even meeting what seemed to be Sajou-san’s mother was already emotionally grey for me, and I wanted to avoid getting into deeper waters.

And the other reason was that after seeing the neighbor next door in such an erotic outfit the other day, being invited into her home felt like something out of an adult doujin circle. Right?

I mean, just because I go up doesn’t mean some erotic scenario will unfold, right?

Logically, it’s obvious that such a convenient erotic development wouldn’t happen.

However, as they say, there’s a term called “unintentional provocation.” Sometimes, by chance, there’s a possibility. Like the probability of a busty lady coming to take out the trash in just a tank top and shorts at the shared garbage disposal in the apartment complex. Yeah.

To summarize, I may have chickened out, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to acknowledge my naive thinking.

Somehow, I feel tired even though I haven’t said anything. My back is soaked.

And why did she invite me in the first place?

As I pondered this while sipping on the iced coffee that was brought over, Sajou-san’s mother timidly spoke up. It gave the impression of a struggle, whether to ask or not.

“Um, is… Hitori doing okay?”

“Hitori…?”

Who’s that?

Huh? A whirlwind of question marks danced in my mind, but I soon realized that there was no one else but Sajou-san around whom the woman in front of me could be referring to.

Come to think of it, that name… I think… maybe… rings a bell. I’m not entirely sure.

I had only ever called her Sajou-san, so I had completely forgotten her given name.

Maybe it’s one of those cases where you forget someone’s real name because you only use their nickname. Probably.

It’s frustrating that even if you don’t remember their name, you can still hang out together without any issues.

Perhaps due to that realization, the woman in front of me is also just Sajou-san’s mother.

It’s too vague. That’s what I think, but I also think that’s just how it is.

Japanese is troublesome because it’s too reliant on nuances. There are various theories on whether it actually gets across or not.