Chapter 55: I Miss You So Much

The afternoon sunlight was gentle, as if it wrapped an extra layer of warmth around anyone it touched.

The neon-lit streets appeared desolate; the LED lights on the billboards were already aglow, yet dusk had not yet arrived. The sunlight lingered, and the faint lights from the signs flickered, barely visible in the daylight.

Haruhito Nohara glanced around. This street had never been crowded—a quiet, empty expanse with few passersby. Relieved, he walked over and, without hesitation, wrapped his arm around the slender waist of Yoshimi Uehara. His hand met a soft, yielding warmth that fit perfectly in his grasp.

Startled by the sudden gesture, Yoshimi turned her head quickly. Recognizing Haruhito, she let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"Haruhito, let me go—someone might see us," she whispered, lowering her head, her cheeks flushed. She dared not meet his gaze, squirming in his embrace, trying to break free.

"It’s fine. I just checked—no one’s around," he reassured her.

Mrs. Uehara always seemed to carry a burning warmth, as if she were a small furnace. Beads of sweat slid slowly down her neck, and a subtle fragrance lingered in the air. Haruhito’s large hand, almost involuntarily, caressed the gentle curve of her waist through the fabric of her dress.

Her face, glistening with a sheen of sweat, took on a rosy hue. Hearing Haruhito’s words, Yoshimi ceased her struggle, though her eyes still darted away, unable to meet his.

Suddenly, Haruhito reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brushed her earlobe, leaving a trail of heat, turning the skin wherever he touched a delicate red.

Yoshimi bowed her head, shrinking into herself, her shapely legs crossed, shifting shyly. The October air was inexplicably warm, and Haruhito’s hand, emboldened by the moment, began to explore. His touch sent a shiver through her, and Yoshimi gasped in embarrassment.

Her breath trembled, scented and warm.

"Haruhito, not here," she pleaded softly, her lips barely parting.

Even now, Mrs. Uehara remained gentle.

Haruhito nodded. As thrilling as it was outside, the risk was real—if anyone were to see them, their game would end abruptly, or worse, end in tragedy. Better to be cautious.

After a firm squeeze or two, Haruhito’s mischievous hand withdrew, leaving Yoshimi with a faint sense of disappointment as she sighed with relief.

After helping Yoshimi move all the boxes into the storeroom, Haruhito went to the staff room to change into his work uniform.

The moment he stepped out, he saw Yoshimi arranging goods on the shelves.

By now, Mrs. Uehara had regained her composure. She stood on tiptoe, leaning forward, and her dress stretched along her body, accentuating her flawless figure.

Inside the convenience store, Haruhito set aside his concerns. He stepped up behind Yoshimi, pressing close and letting his hand slide over her flat stomach.

"Haruhito..." Yoshimi didn’t need to turn to know who it was. She bit her lip, her face flushing once more.

Haruhito said nothing, merely buried his face in her long brown hair, breathing in her faint fragrance. The warmth between them hadn’t faded; if anything, it had grown more humid, reminiscent of a tropical rainforest—hot and damp.

Feeling his hands move, Yoshimi wanted to resist, but her body felt limp, powerless. All she could do was protest in a trembling voice, "Haruhito, we can’t—this is wrong… We can’t keep making the same mistake..."

Her soft voice in his ear only made Haruhito want to savor her beauty all the more—slowly, bit by bit, or swiftly and fiercely, as only a man can.

No one but the two of them in the storeroom would ever know just how Haruhito appreciated her today. All that was certain was that the Power Pill was now minus one.

[Item Consumed: Power Pill.]

An hour later, Haruhito emerged from the storeroom, stretching his body and feeling his muscles loosen. As the pill’s effects faded, so did his unnatural strength and lightness—his body returning to its familiar, weighty state.

What an intoxicating power, he mused with a hint of adolescent bravado, then returned to his post at the register. He tidied the shelves and prepared the oden with practiced efficiency, embarking on another shift at his part-time job.

As for Mrs. Uehara? She deserved a break. How could the boss be expected to work all the time? She’d worked hard enough for the past hour—now it was his turn, as her subordinate, to take over.

During that past hour, two or three waves of customers had come and gone from the convenience store, but with no one to assist them, they had left on their own.

Next time, Haruhito thought, he’d have to make sure the Uehara Convenience Store closed for a while before any “games” began.

He yawned, pulled out his phone, and started to idle away the time.

He wondered what that scatterbrained Miron Kiyosuzu was doing at home alone.

...

"Ouch!"

A girlish exclamation rang through the room, accompanied by the crackling splatter of oil in a frying pan.

A small fish was tossed into the pan, wriggled twice, and went still as the hot oil sprayed. Miron Kiyosuzu stood well back from the stove, holding a lid as a shield and wielding a spatula with great caution.

The aluminum lid protected her face, but her hands—clutching the spatula—were dotted with red marks from the burning oil.

It didn’t last long before the sharp scent of burning filled the air.

She quickly turned off the stove. The oil bubbled a couple more times before settling down, leaving behind a blackened, unrecognizable lump of fish.

Well… it should still be edible, right?

Miron touched her nose uncertainly, mumbling to herself. The video had said to do it this way, step by step, so how did it end up like this?

She checked her phone again. The screen showed a cooking tutorial with over twenty thousand likes and a stream of glowing comments.

Where had she gone wrong?

Miron fished the blackened fish from the pan, drained the oil as best she could, and placed it on a plate.

Turning away, she consulted her phone again, determined to study the steps more closely.

Hmm…