Kenji sat at his desk, turning on his computer. His hands rested stiffly on the keyboard, but his eyes refused to meet Emi's. She was just a few desks away reviewing someone's file, yet it felt like a wall separated them. He was too shy,awkward and too restless.
To distract himself, he pulled out his phone. Opening the notes app, he expected to see the usual scribbles or maybe some cryptic words left behind by his other self. Instead, he saw three attachments under a message that read:
"Thanks for the fun, loser."
Kenji froze. A sharp pulse of fear ran down his spine. His thumb trembled as he tapped the first photo.
What appeared on the screen made his stomach twist. It was him. Him and Emi. Not just sitting or sleeping — but together. Naked. Entangled. His eyes widened, and sweat broke across his forehead.
"What the hell…" he muttered. His mind reeled back to last night. He remembered it ending at just a single act just a blowjob. Nothing more. But the photos told a different story.
He scrolled through them one by one, each more damning than the last. Passion. Skin. Movements he didn't remember. A whole night laid bare in digital proof.
His chest tightened. So that's why Emi was so awkward this morning.
"Shit… shit! I'm the dumbest," he cursed under his breath. His fist tightened around the phone. Rage burned inside him, but it wasn't directed at Emi. It was at himself — no, at the other him.
"You pervert," he whispered, eyes trembling. "I'll kill you. I swear, I'll kill you…"
By the time Kenji finally finished half his workload, it was already 1:30 p.m. Break time. He leaned back in his chair, sighing. The entire morning had been torture — he had buried himself in spreadsheets and reports just to keep his mind from circling back to the photos, to Emi, to the suffocating embarrassment clinging to him.
As he stretched and prepared to stand, movement caught his eye. A figure walked into the logistics department.
Haruto Yamamoto.
Even Kenji, who usually kept his head low, knew that name. Haruto was the company's golden boy — successful, sharp, and dangerously good-looking. More than that, he was the son of Masahiro Yamamoto, one of the company's major shareholders. Finance department's pride. What was he doing here?
Kenji frowned. Finance and logistics didn't usually mix. Before he could think more, Emi stepped out of her office. Her voice cut through the room with calm authority:
"Attention, please."
Every desk chair squeaked as people stood and shuffled toward her. Kenji drifted to the back of the group, trying not to draw attention.
"With us here today," Emi began, "is Haruto Yamamoto. As you all know, he's a very talented employee and the son of one of our major stakeholders, Masahiro Yamamoto. From now on, he'll be working in the logistics department."
The room stirred. Whispers of disbelief rippled through the crowd. In the middle of the year? Why here? Some clapped politely, others exchanged glances, and a few simply stared at Haruto.
Haruto stepped forward, his smile calm and confident. "Hello, everyone. I'm Haruto Yamamoto. From today, I'll be working here. Please don't mind my background — I'd rather be treated as a normal employee. I know you might have questions, so don't hesitate to ask."
His voice was smooth, practiced. For a moment, silence blanketed the room. No one spoke up.
Emi, sensing the hesitation, quickly stepped in. "Alright, thank you. Please continue your work now."
The crowd broke apart, people scattering back to their desks or heading out for lunch.
I stood up and made my way to the cafeteria. My stomach grumbled faintly — I hadn't eaten properly all morning. At the counter, I bought a sandwich and a black coffee. My usual.
Tray in hand, I scanned the crowded room, searching for a place to sit. There were too many voices, too many people packed close together. No one ever really spoke to me anyway. I thought about heading outside instead.
That's when I saw them.
Emi and Haruto, sitting together. They looked comfortable, as though it was natural for the two of them to share a table. Something stirred inside me — a sharp, unfamiliar pinch in my chest. I quickly turned my gaze away and walked straight past, pretending not to notice.
Outside, the air was cooler. A bench near the small garden caught my eye, facing a still pond with faint ripples dancing across its surface. I sat down, unwrapped my sandwich, and took a bite.
The bread was soft, slightly warm. The crisp lettuce gave a fresh crunch, mixing with the smoothness of cheese and the faint tang of mustard. Each bite carried a kind of quiet comfort — the kind of taste that reminded me food could be simple yet grounding. I chewed slowly, trying to savor the mix of textures as the flavors lingered on my tongue. By the time I finished, my chest felt a little lighter.
I sat back, staring into the pond, letting the quiet swallow me. Then I reached for the black coffee.
The first sip was bitter, almost harsh, the taste clawing across my tongue. I grimaced. Why was I even drinking this? Maybe I thought it made me look more mature, more serious. But in truth, it was disgusting.
Just as I was about to force another sip, a voice cut through my thoughts.
"Kenji, why are you eating here alone?"
I looked up. Emi. She was standing there, no one else in sight. Without waiting for permission, she sat down beside me.
I didn't answer. Instead, I raised the cup and took another bitter sip, more out of stubbornness than anything.
"Can I have some?" she asked casually.
I turned to her in surprise. "You… want this?"
"Mm." She nodded, not hesitating in the slightest.
"…Okay," I said, handing her the cup. She took it and sipped without flinching, as if the bitterness didn't bother her at all.
I watched her, unable to stop myself from asking, "Weren't you sitting inside with Haruto just now?"
Her lips curved into a small smile. "Oh? So you saw me, and still came out here alone. Were you… jealous?"
"I was not jealous," I said, irritation pricking my tone. "I was just wondering why you're out here when Haruto's inside."
She chuckled softly, covering her mouth. "Mhm. That sounds a little jealous to me."
I looked away, heat crawling up my neck. Before I could say more, she leaned a little closer, lowering her voice.
"You know, Kenji… you're acting very differently compared to last night."
Her words struck deep, and my face flushed red instantly. The memory of my other self — bold, reckless, unrestrained — surged into my mind. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to keep it together.
But Emi only tilted her head, her eyes glimmering with amusement. "Still… you're cute like this too. Why is your face red, Kenji?"
"It's not," I muttered quickly.
"It is," she teased.
"It's not."
"It is," she insisted, laughter bubbling out of her.