Chapter 5: Screwdriver and Bourbon

Screwdriver and Bourbon

As always, I head to the office and go about my work like any other day.

The only difference is that Manager Machida went out of his way to approach me and, for some reason, muttered something incomprehensible like, “Hihii, that’s just fine.”

That alone was enough to make my coworkers and even my superiors look at me differently, shocked that I apparently had some kind of connection with Manager Machida.

Since then, they’ve been talking to me more often than before.

I never realized just how much influence Manager Machida holds within the company.

For our next date, I played it safe and suggested a movie.

She said she wanted to watch a romance film, so here we are. But to be honest, I don’t find it remotely entertaining.

If I had a choice, I’d be watching an action movie.

As I sit there stifling a yawn, I suddenly feel Miyuki-san’s hesitant hand reaching for mine from the side.

Even though I know I’m being deceived, the warmth of a girl’s soft hand makes it hard to resist.

I gently take her hand in mine, but since we’re already doing this, I take it a step further and lace our fingers together in a proper lovers’ hold.

As expected, her hand is small and delicate—and today, it isn’t damp with nervous sweat.

And then, unbelievably, Miyuki-san guides our intertwined hands onto her thigh.

The warmth and supple softness of it sink into my palm.

“Huh?” I let out a quiet sound of surprise, instinctively turning to look at her. I mean, come on—anyone would.

But Miyuki-san has her face turned downward, so I can’t see her expression.

She was the one who insisted on a romance movie, yet she hasn’t been paying attention to it at all.

By the time we step out of the theater, the sun has already dipped low in the sky.

Since Miyuki-san had something going on in the morning, today’s date started in the afternoon.

Our faces are probably as red as the sunset—not because of the film, but because we still haven’t let go of each other’s hands.

I suppose I could let go, but Miyuki-san isn’t making any move to pull away, so out of sheer stubbornness, neither will I.

Somehow, it feels like I’d be admitting defeat if I were the one to break the hold.

As we walk hand in hand, I ask, “What do you want to do next?”

“Hehe, I think I’d like a drink.”

She answers in a tone far too cutesy for her usual self.

With our fingers still entwined and that kind of voice, it really does feel like we’re a real couple.

This is dangerous.

We find a quiet izakaya with private booths and toast with a round of beer, drinking to a good evening.

“Miyuki-san, what would you like to order?”

“Hmm… anything is fine.”

“Alright then, I’ll go with the chef’s recommendation.”

“And after beer, what’s your next drink?”

“I’m not a strong drinker… but since we’re here, I’ll have an Italian Screwdriver.”

Oh? She’s ordering a Screwdriver?

That cocktail has a high a🬀cohol content and is infamous as a lady-killer. A drink meant for that kind of situation.

So, she’s planning to pretend to be drunk and seduce me, huh?

“I’ll go with a double bourbon,” I say.

“Oh? So you like bourbon?”

Don’t say it like that—it makes me sound cooler than I actually am. I just wanted to act tough.

We chat about work, discuss the food as it arrives, and overall, it turns out to be a decent evening.

And then, I decide to bring up something that’s been on my mind.

“I saw something in the paper about embezzlement. Makes me wonder if our company is safe. Since you’re in accounting, Miyuki-san, do you hear anything about that kind of stuff?”

“Huh? Embezzlement? As far as I know, nothing like that is happening. You sure have some strange worries.”

Hmm. Her tone and expression don’t show a hint of guilt. If she were skimming money off the company, she’s either an expert at hiding it or completely innocent.

My ability to read lies isn’t exactly foolproof, but I don’t think she’s being blackmailed over some hidden fraud.

“You still call me Miyuki-san no matter how much time passes. It’s a little lonely, you know.”

What does she mean, no matter how much time passes? This is only our second date.

For someone who claimed she wasn’t a strong drinker, she’s already downed five Italian Screwdrivers.

I had noticed she kept ordering them, but judging by her flushed face, she’s completely wasted.

Her eyes are hazy, unfocused.

“Come on… call me by my name without the honorific.”

That’s the loudest she’s spoken all night.

So, she’s the type to get loud when drunk.

“Haa… do I have to?”

“Mmm… you have to.”

Was that a weird little noise just now?

“Alright, alright. Miyuki, you’re cute. Happy now?”

I must be drunk too—those words just slipped right out.

This was supposed to be a fake date, yet I’ve also been downing bourbon after bourbon, trying to keep up with her.

“Fwah… that made my heart skip a beat. That was unfair, saying something like that out of nowhere.”

We’re both well past tipsy by now, so we decide to call it a night.

When I go to pay, Miyuki insists on splitting the bill, pulling out a ten-thousand-yen note.

Even when I offer to cover it, she’s too drunk and stubborn to back down.

To avoid making a scene and annoying the staff, I finally give in and settle it by letting her treat me next time.

Haa… dealing with a drunk woman is exhausting.

This is exactly why I always leave company drinking parties after the first round and never accept invitations from bosses or coworkers.

As we step onto the street, Miyuki naturally loops her arm around mine.

Whoa, her chest is pressing right up against me.

Just as I’m wondering what she’s up to, I realize—she’s leading us toward the hotel district.

It’s only our second date, yet she’s already trying to make this real.

Even if this matchmaking is just a sham, I know there are certain… expectations. But on a second date? That’s way too soon.

My heart just isn’t ready for this.

“Miyuki, you’re completely wasted. I’ll take you home.”

“Hehe, you called me Miyuki. Just like a real couple.”

At this point, she isn’t just linking arms with me—she’s clinging to me just to stay on her feet.

“Where do you live, Miyuki?”

“Fwaa… My secret is about to be exposed… You really wanna know?”

“Come on, quit messing around and just tell me already.”

She leans in close, whispering her address directly into my ear.

Ugh, what a pain. This is exactly why I can’t stand dealing with drunk people.

We take the train, then grab a taxi from the station to her place.

The ride isn’t long, so the fare isn’t too bad.

Miyuki’s house is in an old part of town, a worn-down building that’s clearly seen better days.

It’s tiny, and the only way in is through a narrow alley—there’s no way a car could fit through.

She’s still clinging to me as we walk, and if I weren’t holding her up, she’d probably collapse right here in the street.

Her waist is so slender, it feels like she might break if I’m not careful.

When we finally reach her home, she fumbles with her keys, too drunk to unlock the door properly.

“Miyuki, let me try.”

The moment I speak, the front door swings open from the inside.

Standing there is an elderly woman—clearly, Miyuki’s grandmother.

Shit.

I should’ve just left before the door opened. Meeting family members in a situation like this is not ideal.

But it’s too late now.

With no other choice, I greet the old woman and apologize, “I’m sorry for letting Miyuki drink so much.”

“Ah, there it is again—Miyuki-san. Just call me Miyuki.”

“Oh my, thank you for escorting my drunken granddaughter home. It’s not much, but please, come inside.”

“It’s a dump, but come on in. You’re the first man I’ve ever brought home, you know.”

I don’t really care what drunk Miyuki has to say, but I do care about the grandmother. When an elderly woman smiles at you and invites you in, you can’t exactly refuse.

My own grandmother is gone now, and there’s a debt of gratitude I never got to repay.

So, when it comes to grandmothers—even if they’re strangers—I just can’t bring myself to be cold.

“Sorry for the intrusion.”

“Such a polite young man. That’s good.”

Miyuki, please shut up already.

“Hehe, Miyuki-chan is in quite the good mood tonight.”

“Haha, you can tell?”

We sit in a small, cozy living room, and the grandmother kindly makes me some hot tea. Meanwhile, Miyuki has already passed out, mumbling to herself, “I’m glad he’s a good person…”

“Lately, she’s been looking so down. But tonight, she seemed truly happy. It’s such a relief. I’m sure her parents, wherever they are, must be at ease knowing she’s found someone kind.”

Damn. She’s smiling, but her words feel like a trap.

She has no idea her granddaughter is planning to have an affair, then squeeze me for every last yen in divorce compensation.

If Miyuki has a grandmother like this… I can’t go through with my plan.

There’s no way I could ever make this old woman cry.

Since it’s already late, I decide to leave before I get any more involved. I politely refuse the grandmother’s offer to stay longer and head home.