Episode Fifty-Eight: Is It Better If Your Partner Is Rich?
The weekend. With the welcome party for the former Web Production Division being held, I finished up work and headed toward the hotel venue with Mitsuya-san and Seno-san.
Two stops by train from the head office, and not far from the station once we got off, so the three of us walked together.
Manager Yamasato couldn’t make it, having to pick her kid up from daycare, and I couldn’t help feeling a small twinge of anxiety about the buffer between Mitsuya-san and Seno-san being absent.
“Aozawa-san, do you have a boyfriend? You must, you’re cute.”
Seno-san doesn’t get along with Mitsuya-san, but she’s fairly casual and friendly with me, so I don’t particularly mind her.
“No, I don’t.”
“Really? Then let’s go to a mixer together sometime.”
Seno-san’s popular with men, and yet no boyfriend — a little, or actually quite, surprising.
But a mixer, huh — what do I do? Is there a graceful way to turn this down?, I wondered, eyes wandering, when Mitsuya-san suddenly pulled me in close by the shoulder.
“Seno-san, Aozawa-chan’s in the middle of a relationship right now. Don’t drag her into bad habits.”
Grateful as I was that she’d covered for me, Mitsuya-san’s slightly barbed delivery made Seno-san’s eyes narrow, amused.
“Aw, come on, Mitsuya-san. Mad you didn’t get invited? Fine, I’ll invite you too. You don’t have a boyfriend either, right? Too much of a work demon for that.”
Caught between them, I nearly choked on the tension in the air.
Mitsuya-san’s narrow eyes sharpened further, and she forced out a strained smile.
“…You’re the one going to mixers because you don’t have a boyfriend either, aren’t you?”
“I’m not looking for romance. I’m hunting for a future partner. No point dating anyone who isn’t rich.”
Not rich, no point dating them, huh. It’s true, past mid-twenties, women do tend to get more practical about this kind of thing — I’ve picked that up from listening to various older women talk.
Love that could run purely on feelings back in college gets harder and harder to sustain, year by year.
You start choosing partners by profession, by income, by status.
Not just Seno-san, either — probably true for most women, one way or another.
Yui-san had already been rich when I met her, but even if she hadn’t been, I would have—
Just as that thought threatened to unspool further, Mitsuya-san cut it off with a heavy sigh.
“Don’t care what your type is, just don’t drag Aozawa-chan into it.”
Seno-san gave a thin smile and a breezy “okaaay” in response.
Mitsuya-san’s the type who favors independent relationships, so she probably doesn’t care about a partner’s income or status at all. Complete opposite values, I’d guess.
No wonder these two don’t get along.
Caught up in thinking all that, we arrived at the venue before I knew it.
＊＊＊
High-class hotel cuisine really is a different tier. After brief opening remarks and a toast, the spread of dishes laid out immediately caught every eye in the room.
Glad it was buffet-style. Apparently we could eat and drink as much as we wanted today, company’s treat, of course.
I’d half-expected, given it was a “welcome party,” that we’d have to make the rounds table to table, bottled beer in hand, pouring for people — but Seno-san filled me in: “Since the president changed, that whole custom of female employees going around pouring drinks disappeared, so feel free to just move around freely.”
Taking her at her word, I piled my plate generously with food.
“…Hotel food really is delicious.”
Mitsuya-san said it, savoring, mouth full of shrimp with chili sauce. Seno-san, beer in hand, grinned.
“Didn’t they mention it during onboarding? Show your employee badge and restaurant meals get twenty percent off — you should go try it sometime.”
“Eh, twenty percent off? I think I got a benefits booklet, but… Aozawa-chan, did you read it?”
Asked by Mitsuya-san, I shook my head, side to side. I had no idea the benefits were this generous.
“Well, personally, I’d never pull out my own wallet on a dinner date.”
Seno-san said it, sticking her tongue out with a laugh. Ah, I see — this must be what people mean by “little devil” types.
I took a bite of roast beef. Yeah, just as expected — genuinely delicious. Explains why our company’s restaurant business is doing so well.
“…Seno-san, you really do act completely differently around men versus women, huh.”
Mitsuya-san pointed it out, exasperated. Seno-san laughed and shook her head.
“I’m not changing my attitude based on gender. No point handing out smiles to anyone who isn’t rich. Aozawa-san, wouldn’t you rather date someone rich too?”
Suddenly put on the spot, I scrambled to pull my attention back from my food to the conversation.
“Um… I guess so?”
It’s true, I think having money is better than not having it. But if asked whether it’s absolutely necessary, I don’t think that either.
Because I can say, with full confidence, that even if Yui-san lost every last yen she had, this feeling of mine wouldn’t waver, not even slightly.
“What do you think, Mitsuya-san? Is it better if your partner’s rich?”
Struggling for an answer myself, I redirected to Mitsuya-san. She put a hand to her chin, thought it over for a moment, then spoke.
“Hmm, if it’s someone I actually love, I don’t mind if their income’s lower than mine. I work too, after all.”
At that, Seno-san burst out laughing.
“Really? Mitsuya-san, you’re surprisingly the romantic type.”
“…You’re definitely making fun of me right now.”
Sworn enemies — is this what people mean by that phrase? I gave a wry smile and took a sip of my lemon sour.
Having eaten my way through my plate completely, I figured I’d leave the two of them to their bickering and head to the Chinese food corner next — but just as I stood, I caught sight of Yui-san past Seno-san’s shoulder, and my heart lurched.
She’d apparently been making the rounds table to table, greeting employees, for a while now, so I’d figured she’d make it to ours eventually too.
I set my lemon sour glass down on the table. Guess I’ll go get more food after all. Just as I thought that, Seno-san seemed to notice Yui-san too.
“Ah, President! We’ve been waiting, come over to our table too~”
Her tone shifting instantly, Seno-san hooked her arm through Yui-san’s and pulled, firm.
Yui-san’s arm sank into the fullness of Seno-san’s chest.
At that moment, Yui-san’s gaze flicked, just for the briefest instant, toward Seno-san’s chest — and I didn’t miss it.
Something unpleasant welled up, boiling, in the pit of my stomach. …Yui-san, you pervert.
“Sorry for the wait, I’ve been going table to table.”
Yui-san said it, expression giving nothing away.
“Mitsuya-san, Aozawa-san, are you two getting used to the job?”
Given a polite, company-face smile, I fought hard to keep myself from puffing my cheeks out in a sulk. Because that arm — still caught in Seno-san’s grip.
While Mitsuya-san and Seno-san exchanged pleasantries with her, smiling, I tipped my lemon sour back and drained it in one go.
Catching a moment while they were absorbed in conversation, I grabbed my empty plate and slipped away from the table.
Normally, leaving your seat while the president’s standing right there talking to you would be enormously rude. I was fully aware of that. I knew how out of line it was.
But I couldn’t stand it. I genuinely couldn’t bear watching Yui-san with her arm linked through some other woman’s.
*
Piling my plate with a heap more shrimp chili, trying to settle my roiling stomach, someone suddenly called out from behind me, and I turned.
“Aozawa-san, good work today.”
Navy suit, hair slicked flat and shiny enough with wax to catch the light, that distinctive half-smirk — this was Niiyama-san.
A male employee from the former Web Production Division’s production team. I’ve never really been comfortable around this person.
“Good work to you too…”
Glancing at the mountain of shrimp chili on my plate, Niiyama-san let out a small laugh.
“Aozawa-san, you eat a lot more than you look like you would.”
Is that supposed to be teasing? Unsure, I just stared back at him, and Niiyama-san held out the lemon sour glass he’d been holding.
“You drained yours a second ago, right? Here.”
“Thank you…”
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you this whole time, but you never left that table.”
My face had already gone warm, probably from downing that drink too fast earlier. Not caring, I took the offered lemon sour and drank it down too.
I glanced sideways at the table. Seno-san still had Yui-san’s arm.
Something in my chest prickled, hot. Why don’t you shake her off — not that I could ever say that out loud.
“Come drink with us over here, if you want.”
Might as well drown my sorrows at this point. At Niiyama-san’s suggestion, I nodded, silent.
Because there was no way, absolutely no way, I could keep a straight face watching them stay pressed together like that right in front of me.
*
I don’t know how much time passed after that. Half-listening to Niiyama-san talk, stuffing myself with food, washing it all down with drink after drink — by the time I noticed, I was swaying too badly to walk straight.
Once the closing remarks wrapped up and everyone started heading home, Mitsuya-san and Seno-san apparently noticed me still propped against the wall.
“Hey, why’d you let Aozawa-chan drink this much?”
“Eh, my fault? Sorry, I didn’t know she was such a lightweight.”
Mitsuya-san, voice sharp with something close to anger, confronted Niiyama-san.
It’s not his fault. It’s my own fault, for drinking that much. My legs gave out and I sank into a crouch, and Seno-san gently rubbed my shoulder.
“Aozawa-san, you okay?”
Seno-san obviously has no idea I love Yui-san. So I know it’s unfair, misplaced, to feel jealous toward her — but after seeing that, some suspicious part of me can’t help wondering, just maybe.
Because she said she likes rich people, and “not changing her attitude based on gender” — does that mean women are fair game too? Or is she just naturally that touchy-feely with people? I don’t know. I don’t know Seno-san well enough yet to say.
“Ah, right. I’ll walk Aozawa-san home.”
Some exchange I couldn’t quite follow happened above my head. Walk home — me?
Ugh, I don’t want Niiyama-san knowing where I live. I’ll say I can get home myself, I thought, lifting my face just as a calm, composed voice cut through.
“I’ll take her home, so the rest of you can head out.”
I recognized that voice as Yui-san’s immediately. Pushing through the small crowd, Yui-san crouched down to meet my eyes.
“You okay? Can you stand?”
At that beloved, gentle voice, I nodded, unable to help myself. Yui-san smiled, soft, took my hand, and pulled me to my feet.
Still unsteady on my feet, she ended up supporting me, practically holding me up.
Whether my heart’s racing from the alcohol or from Yui-san, I honestly can’t tell anymore.
“President, it’s fine, I’ll walk her home.”
Mitsuya-san offered, concerned, but Yui-san smiled brightly and shook her head.
“No, it’s fine. We’ll take a taxi, don’t worry about it. Thank you all for your hard work today.”
Saying that, firm and final, Yui-san took my hand and guided me along, still supporting my weight.
*
In the back seat of the taxi, I leaned against Yui-san’s shoulder and closed my eyes. Felt bad, toward both Mitsuya-san and Seno-san.
But I was happy Yui-san had come for me. Relieved she’d shown up.
“Kanata, you okay? Not feeling sick?”
Those black eyes, watching me with real concern. Happiness welled up despite myself, and a loose, helpless smile spread across my face.
“I’m… fine.”
She’d told me not to drink too much, since tomorrow was our date. And here I’d gone and done exactly that.
But at least, this way, I get to stay with Yui-san until we get home.
Hugging tight to the arm I’d stolen back from Seno-san earlier, I closed my eyes again, relieved.
I’ll save my complaints about her staring at Seno-san’s chest for later. Once we get home, once I’m out of the taxi. That’s when.
Or so I’d intended — but by then, I was genuinely, thoroughly drunk, and had absolutely no idea, none at all, that the taxi wasn’t heading toward my apartment, but toward Yui-san’s condo instead.