Left with no choice, Akira clenched the high-heeled shoes between his teeth and scooped up Tashiro-san into his arms.
"Uwah…"
Feeling the large hand suddenly pressing against her backside, the semi-conscious Tashiro-san let out a sultry sigh.
But right now, Akira wasn't in any state of mind to enjoy it. Awkwardly pressed chest-to-chest with her, he crab-walked stiffly toward the house, like a laborer lugging a sack of cement.
Despite the short distance home, Akira struggled with every step.
By the time he finally carried Tashiro-san through the entranceway, placing her down gently, he felt his back was about to snap and his jaw muscles throbbed from gripping the shoes.
Dropping the heels onto the floor, Akira wiped away the saliva that had leaked from his strained mouth.
Looking back down at Tashiro-san, he saw she was now sprawled across the floor in an extremely unladylike manner.
She wore a classic black OL-style suit paired with nude stockings and those burgundy high heels—a textbook image of a stylish working woman.
Her full name was Tashiro Benika. At twenty-four, she was at the prime age to be considered a mature onee-san, yet "mature" was the last word anyone would use to describe her. Shy, introverted, perpetually exhausted—she was an adult overflowing with "dame" vibes.
Still, Akira was certain Tashiro-san wasn't a hostess from a nightclub, nor was her outfit provocative enough for escort work. Why, then, had she gotten herself this drunk?
After catching his breath, Akira sighed and gently tried waking her.
"Tashiro-san? Tashiro-san! You can't sleep here. Let's get you back to your room."
"Mmm..."
As he lifted her again, Tashiro-san promptly wrapped her arms around him once more. This time, she even curled her legs around his waist, clinging tightly like a koala.
"Uh..."
Well, she was certainly cooperating—perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.
If previously the socially anxious Tashiro Benika kept a cautious +10 distance from Akira, right now their proximity was definitely a solid -1.
In his previous life, Akira hadn't been a drinker, nor was he able to handle alcohol. But he knew enough to understand that drunken people behaved differently—some became loud, others passed out immediately, and some took their clothes off. Indeed, alcohol could really ruin one's judgment.
Apparently, Tashiro-san was the clingy type of drunk.
Resigned, Akira carried her upstairs to her own room.
Inside was nothing short of a disaster. Underwear lay scattered everywhere, makeup boxes littered every surface—Hijikata-san's room was pristine in comparison.
At first, Akira could barely find footing. Eventually, after navigating the mess and groping blindly in the dark, he located her futon and gently placed her down.
But his troubles weren't over yet. She showed no signs of letting go.
Exasperated, Akira tried waking her again.
"Tashiro-san, wake up! Can you let go now? You should rest properly—I also need to sleep."
"Mmm..."
Benika slowly opened her eyes, releasing her arms from around his neck. However, her legs remained firmly wrapped around his waist.
Now that their upper bodies were separated, both took a deep breath, relieved at the slight reprieve. Benika felt the breeze cool her flushed face; Akira, unfortunately, got another whiff of alcohol.
"Ah..."
Benika squinted, staring dreamily into Akira's face. Unable to resist, she reached out and caressed his cheeks.
Akira instinctively tried pulling back, but there was nowhere left to retreat, as Benika remained firmly seated atop him. Ultimately, he couldn't escape her gentle grasp.
"You're so warm..."
No, you're the one burning up!
Just how much had she drunk? Her whole body was radiating heat. Clearly, she wasn't someone who could handle alcohol. Why torment herself like this?
Internally, Akira complained endlessly. He really couldn't handle drunken people, beautiful or not.
Benika continued exploring his face with her hands, tracing every feature until finally settling on the scar near his eye.
"Oh…you're hurt here…poor thing… Let me heal it for you…"
Gently, she rubbed the scar at the corner of his eye with her thumb. Her touch was so soft, filled with the tenderness of an older sister.
Perhaps feeling it wasn't enough, she leaned in, pressing her warm lips softly to the scar. Her tongue brushed gently across it, murmuring comforting words.
"There, there… It doesn't hurt anymore… It's okay now…"
"…"
Akira was speechless. He had no idea how this version of himself had gotten the scar, but judging by its appearance, it had probably been there for at least a decade. Clearly, it wasn't still hurting.
Still, being comforted by an affectionate older woman… well, it would've felt great if she wasn't wasted.
Tomorrow, once she remembered what she'd done, she'd probably die of embarrassment. His only hope was she'd completely black out, waking up with no memories of tonight's events.
"That place stopped hurting long ago, Tashiro-san. So please, let go now."
"Mm…"
Benika nodded, pulling back slightly, only to suddenly frown deeply.
"Ngh…too hot…!"
Without warning, she started stripping.
In one swift move, she peeled off her jacket and began unbuttoning her blouse. Two sizable white rabbits bounced free, unrestrained.
Wait, wait—don't strip!
Akira panicked immediately. This wasn't going to escalate into drunken sex, was it?!
No! Absolutely impossible! As long as I keep my pants on, nothing bad will happen!
Akira firmly decided he would never take advantage of someone so vulnerable.
But after removing her top, Benika once again embraced him, pressing his head firmly into her chest as she lay down on her side, dragging him with her.
Akira relaxed slightly. At least she hadn't taken off everything…
The softness against his face was pleasant enough, but sadly, instead of a sweet fragrance, all he could smell was alcohol.
"Hold me…"
"Uhh…"
Benika tightened her embrace, leaving Akira no room for escape.
He despaired internally, realizing he wouldn't be leaving tonight.
Would he have to sleep like this?
Tomorrow morning… things would certainly get interesting.
Whatever. He was exhausted.
Might as well sleep and worry about tomorrow when it comes.
Letting go of his anxieties, Akira accepted his fate.
Then he heard Tashiro-san softly murmuring above him, words drifting between drunkenness and dreams.
"So warm… Human warmth…feels wonderful…I love it…"
"I don't want to do that cold, miserable job anymore…"
"I don't want to go to work…"
"I don't want to leave home at night…"
"Sob…it's scary…"
"If only someone would take care of me…"
"Please…let someone nice hire me…"
"Even being a maid would be fine…as long as I could have two days off a week…"
"No…even one day is enough…a salary of 200,000 yen would be enough…"
"I just want to live…an easier life…"
Listening to her words, Akira felt a sudden ache in his heart.
It was all too relatable.
Clearly, Tashiro-san also worked at a toxic company. Her binge drinking was probably just her way of venting.
Both of them were pitiable souls…so why not comfort each other tonight?
Thinking this, Akira gently wrapped his arms around her waist, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift into sleep.
Two corporate slaves, sharing their warmth to comfort one another.
---
...
Umu! I am Nero Claudius—the brilliant Emperor of Rome, the dazzling Saber, the one and only performer who can steal a stage with a single smile!
Merry (slightly late) Christmas, my beloved subjects! I hope you ate something warm, took a proper break, and didn't spend the whole day doom-scrolling like a tragic commoner. Now then—if you'd like to support Translator (totally optional, only if you want), there's a bonus: early access / reading ahead.
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