“Ah… it’s the Beauty Waiter…”
Yamada struggled to squint open her eyes, which had been so dulled by alcohol that she could barely keep them open.
Her clouded gaze finally managed to focus after great effort, just enough to recognize that the one supporting her was the very waiter who had stunned her earlier.
At such a close distance, she could almost feel the other’s warm breath.
That flawless, dreamlike beautiful face under the dim amber light carried a fragile purity that powerfully assaulted her alcohol-numbed senses.
And at this moment, her hand—which had instinctively grabbed for support due to her unsteady body—gripped tightly around the portion of arm exposed from beneath the wide kimono sleeve.
The arm’s lines were slender and graceful, the skin so fair and delicate it resembled the finest porcelain, cool and silky to the touch, like a freshly peeled egg, making her want to squeeze it even tighter.
A faint, almost imperceptible clean fragrance lingered obstinately in her nostrils amid the pungent smell of alcohol, seducing her senses like an irresistible spell.
Her mind, ravaged by an excess of alcohol and long since stripped of reason, left only primal instincts and swelling desire, was now sluggish and uncontrollable, issuing an absurd and daring command—
Her coarse fingers, sticky with sweat and traces of wine, began to move with ambiguous intent along that smooth, delicate lotus-white arm, rubbing back and forth…
“Ah!… Guest! Please… please don’t do this!”
Kaoru Hoshitani felt a strange, extremely uncomfortable, almost sticky touch sliding over his arm. His skin erupted in a wave of tiny shudders, a sickening sense of being violated shooting up his spine.
This was the first time he had ever experienced such outright harassment at work.
He was so shocked and caught off guard that his mind went blank for a moment, unable to respond immediately.
But he quickly snapped out of his daze, realizing the seriousness of the situation. A rush of emotions—anger, shame, panic—flooded his heart.
He frantically tried to shake off the woman’s death-grip—the “salty pig hand” clinging to his arm—while his face tightened, his voice trembling with accusation and warning as he sternly called out for her to stop.
Yet, bizarrely, this woman, who moments before had looked like she couldn’t even stand on her own and was as limp as mud, now clung to his slender arm with iron strength.
Her five fingers dug into his flesh like steel claws. No matter how he struggled or thrashed, he couldn’t break free in the slightest.
The physical gap between men and women became painfully obvious, filling him with helpless dread.
Kaoru Hoshitani instinctively wanted to call out loudly, hoping to attract the attention of others and force this drunken woman to give up her disgraceful act.
But as he parted his lips to shout, he suddenly remembered something crucial—this woman was his girlfriend Aina’s coworker.
If he made a scene and others rushed over, or even if the Police were alerted, she might be taken away for harassment.
Wouldn’t that affect Aina’s standing at the Company?
And, if a conflict like this broke out during business hours inside the Kawasaki Family Izakaya, wouldn’t it harm the establishment’s long-standing reputation and business?
Wouldn’t it trouble the Kawasaki Couple who had always cared for him?
So, Kaoru Hoshitani bit his lip, struggling violently inside, and decided to endure for now.
He tried to break free by his own strength and shot warning looks at his assailant.
He resolved that if this woman went even further, he would shout for help no matter the consequences.
“Beauty Waiter… don’t… don’t be scared… it’s not… not what you think… I just… I just want to…”
Yamada’s alcohol-befuddled brain couldn’t even form a complete or coherent sentence. Her words were jumbled, slurred, and indistinct.
But while her mouth fumbled for excuses, her hands, as if possessed, had no intention of letting go.
Instead, relying on her weight, she tried to drag this struggling, enticing beauty deeper into the corridor, toward a dimmer, shadier corner.
“I don’t care what you want! Just let me go! Now!”
Kaoru Hoshitani glared furiously at the increasingly out-of-line woman before him, his clear eyes brimming with rage and warning.
He also became keenly aware that he was being forcibly dragged toward a more dangerous, poorly monitored corner, and the alarm in his mind blared ever louder.
At this point, he finally made up his mind. He couldn’t hold back any longer; he had to call out for help and draw others’ attention to escape this perilous situation!
But just as he drew a deep breath, ready to shout as loudly as he could, the drunken Yamada seemed to sense something from the sudden determination in his eyes and the rise and fall of his chest.
A flash of panic flickered in her eyes, quickly replaced by a stronger desire.
She suddenly freed her other hand, which had been hanging at her side, and with a speed that belied her drunken state, clamped it tightly over Kaoru Hoshitani’s half-open mouth—foul with alcohol—her palm covering most of his face.
“Mm!… Mmmph… Let… go…”
Kaoru Hoshitani’s eyes widened in terror. He had never expected this woman, even drunk, to be so bold as to assault him outright, cutting off any chance of calling for help!
He twisted his head desperately, trying to escape that disgusting hand, but his mouth was now firmly smothered by her sweat-damp, clammy palm reeking of liquor and smoke.
The cries for help on his lips became muffled whimpers, choked deep in his throat, utterly unable to break free.
Suffocation and despair flooded over him like a wave of icy water.
Driven by strong liquor, Yamada, emboldened by the thrill of struggle and danger, felt her adrenaline spike.
Paradoxically, she regained a twisted clarity and strength.
A twisted, triumphant smile appeared on her face as she pressed that filthy hand harder over the struggling beauty’s mouth, squeezing so tightly her knuckles whitened, nearly cutting off his breath.
At the same time, she mustered all her strength to half-drag, half-carry him, moving deliberately toward the deeper, typically deserted employee restroom.
In the shop, the few remaining Guests were lost in their own world of booze and boisterous conversation.
The clinking of cups and plates, laughter, and television chatter mingled together to form a barrier of sound.
No one, without exception, noticed the appalling scene unfolding at the end of the dimly lit corridor…