Chapter 24: Flirting (Part 1).

Kawasaki Rika leaned lazily against the bar edge, a subtle oppressive aura in her stance. Her gray-black eyes narrowed, scanning the woman clinging to Hoshiya Kaoru with appraising scrutiny—quickly concluding: just an ordinary wage slave.

Interest evaporated; childish staring contest lost appeal.

She tugged her lips in a near-silent scoff, grabbed the towel draped around her neck, roughly wiped forehead sweat, then spun decisively—“swish”—parting the deep-blue curtain to the kitchen without a backward glance.

“Loosen up… Aina! You’re hurting me!”

Aina, fixated on glaring down the blonde, missed Kaoru’s delicate face buried deep in her chest—flushed from stifled breath, body squirming in her vise-grip, near suffocation.

His pained, muffled cry from her bosom snapped her awake. Arms slackened instantly.

Kaoru gasped free, shoving her lingering hold, stumbling half-step back—gulping air.

Coughing lightly, brows knit, he crossed arms rubbing sore muscles, face full of discomfort and grievance.

Meeting his watery, resentful pretty eyes, Aina realized her force—panic and embarrassment flashed.

Finger knuckle scratched nose awkwardly, eyes dodging, voice coaxing yet guilty:

“Sorry, Kaoru… I missed you so much, lost control…”

Ten years together—he read her every twitch. Knew the lie instantly.

Face pressed in her softness, vision blocked, but he felt her staring at Miss Kawasaki.

“Aina, that was… really rude…”

Sigh laced with disapproval, helplessness.

These pickup nights: her blatant, awful attitude toward Miss Kawasaki—crystal clear to attentive Kaoru.

He knew why: jealousy, fear of closeness to another woman. But limits!

Miss Kawasaki did nothing—barely beyond work handoffs. Such rudeness? Childish, inconsiderate in his eyes.

Plus: daily colleagues, work synergy needed.

Her baseless hostility breeding misunderstanding? Future awkwardness, needless friction?

“I…”

Aina saw his genuine upset—lips parted, faltered. Wanted to explain unspeakable fears, but words choked.

Can’t say: undeletable ghost-app showed you tangled with blonde, hotel-bound—so I bristled like scared hedgehog?

Kaoru, seeing no remorse, petty temper flared from mistrust.

Lips tight, turned away—back to her, heavy steps to bar, packing belongings sulkily.

Old clock hit 11:00 PM—shift end.

Forced smile, polite farewell to kind Mister Kawasaki. Side-glance at sheepish Aina—cool, then soft “hmph,” head high, out the door—deliberately not checking if she followed.

Guilty Aina hurried after.

Sparse night streets, yellow lamp pools.

She jogged up, tentative hand taking his soft left—fingertips gentle on cool skin, softest voice:

“Sorry, Kaoru… I know I was wrong. Won’t happen again—don’t be mad, okay?”

He turned, bright night eyes rolling—clear “don’t believe” and “still mad.”

Wrist flick—petty shake-off, stubborn faster strides.

Aina, unfazed by cute sulk—decades knowing him: just tantrum.

Eyes schemed, slowed deliberately.

Sure enough: his rush eased imperceptibly—waiting.

Grin victorious.

Timing perfect—surged forward, strong arms snaking his slim waist from behind.

Momentum: hoisted yelping Kaoru over one shoulder.

“Idiot! Put me down!”