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Chapter 6: 5 PM — Aoki Kei’s Desperate Struggle
🕑 Added 2025-07-30 20:06:23 +0000 UTCAfter leaving STARRY, Aoki Kei headed back to his apartment, hastily scarfed down a quick dinner, then jumped on the train and rushed toward the bar where he worked part-time.
Interestingly, while on the train, he noticed that the system in his head had updated again—this time adding another heroine to the list.
The previously lone selectable heroine, Nijika, now had company: Yamada Ryo.
Though Kei couldn’t yet figure out the actual function of the “Heroines” tab, whether it had one heroine or ten didn’t make much of a difference to him—for now.
After a bumpy ride, Kei got off at a station near the Shibuya–Shinjuku border.
The streets were crowded with office workers heading home as he made his way to a bar called “Morke.”
Without hesitation, he pushed the door open.
The place was smaller than STARRY, almost cramped in comparison.
A soft, nameless piano piece played in the background, adding to the quiet and intimate atmosphere.
“Morke” catered more to a lounge crowd than the average bar, favoring low lighting and soft music over noise and flash.
Though it was late spring outside, the air conditioning inside was already set low, making the bar feel even cooler and more subdued.
Since it was still early in the evening, the customer flow was light.
Kei headed straight to the back, changed into his work uniform in the supply room, and made his way behind the counter.
Right on the dot—5:00 PM.
The bar’s owner—a woman lounging with her head on the counter lifted her eyes toward Kei, then glanced at her wristwatch.
She blinked in mild surprise and chuckled.
"How many times is this now? You walking in at exactly five? Kei-kun, your time management is terrifying."
"Just a coincidence.," Kei replied, brushing it off.
The owner rolled her eyes, clearly not buying it, then pushed herself off the counter.
"Alright, I’m leaving it to you. I’ll switch back in around one."
Kei nodded, watching her disappear out the door.
Once she was gone, he turned back toward the near-empty room.
As the bartender-slash-server, his job was easy when business was slow.
Or so he thought—
Just as he sat down behind the counter, hoping for a moment to breathe, the sound of the door opening broke through the stillness.
So much for rest.
Sighing, Kei turned toward the door only to freeze in surprise.
A woman had entered: long, flowing black hair, around 25 years old, clad in a beige trench coat that reached her knees and a pair of light-wash jeans.
Her face was beautiful, her figure stunning, and from this close, Kei could see the smoothness of her skin in detail.
But what shocked him wasn’t her looks.
It was the fact that he recognized her.
Twenty-seven (probably), single—Hiratsuka Shizuka.
Kei drew in a breath, forcing down the jolt of recognition.
He opened his mouth to say something, but Shizuka spoke first, casually looking around the bar without yet noticing him.
"Hey, got any drink recommendations?"
Despite the swirl of questions in his head 'Why is Hiratsuka-sensei here of all places?—Kei kept his professional front intact.
After a beat of thought, he replied, "I’m pretty good at mixing Margaritas. Would you like to try one, miss?"
Shizuka blinked and finally looked directly at him for the first time.
Upon seeing Kei’s face, her brows furrowed slightly.
As a high school teacher, Shizuka prided herself on having sharp instincts.
She wasn’t quite like those shopkeepers who could judge a customer’s income from their shoes, but she could definitely tell if someone was a high schooler just by their appearance.
And this bartender…
Everything about him his voice, his face, his build screamed high school student.
Under Japanese law, minors are strictly prohibited from drinking alcohol, and schools typically don’t allow students to work at bars either.
Shizuka was skeptical, but kept her expression neutral.
After a short pause, she took a seat at the bar and spoke calmly.
"Then I’ll take that Margarita. Thanks."
"Certainly. One moment," Kei replied smoothly.
Margaritas weren’t complicated to make.
Once you had enough practice, it only took a few minutes.
After preparing the drink with practiced hands, Kei gently set the finished cocktail in front of her.
Shizuka accepted it with a polite thanks but didn’t drink it right away.
Instead, she tapped her fingers lightly on the counter, clearly mulling something over.
After a moment, she spoke, voice casual as if making small talk.
"You seem pretty young—still in high school, right?"
Kei’s hand, still holding a glass he was cleaning, froze for a split second.
Most high schools allowed students to work part-time, especially on weekends or after school.
But even so, there were strict limitations:
[No working more than a certain number of hours per week.]
[Jobs had to be approved by the school.]
And, most importantly—working in bars or adult establishments was strictly forbidden.
And of course, Kei’s current school had those exact restrictions.
He swallowed hard.
If it were just a random customer asking, he might’ve brushed it off.
But the person sitting in front of him now was Hiratsuka Shizuka—a dedicated teacher known for taking her students' well-being seriously.
He had to think fast.
Taking a steadying breath, Kei kept his face neutral and resumed wiping the glass like nothing had happened.
With a calm, even tone, he answered, "I just look young, that’s all. I’m not actually a high school student."
Unfortunately for him, Shizuka wasn’t that easy to fool.
She had been watching him closely from the start.
After hearing his response, she shifted her gaze back to his face, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Is that so? By the way, have you heard of Shirose High School? I could’ve sworn they had a strict policy about students not working in bars."
Kei’s hand faltered again.
He glanced up and met her eyes—and in that moment, he realized his mistake.
He’d never changed out of his school uniform.
Whether at the convenience store, at STARRY, or while eating dinner at home, he’d been too busy to switch into casual clothes.
Though he now wore a staff uniform over it, if someone looked closely...
They’d notice, say, a tiny school crest peeking out from the cuff of his sleeve.
Lowering his gaze back to the glass, he stayed silent, finishing the polishing with a slow, careful motion.
Then, setting the glass aside, he wiped his hands dry and subtly tugged his sleeve down to hide the exposed crest.
"Not sure about that," he replied smoothly. "Like I said, I’m not in high school."
Thus began Aoki Kei’s desperate attempt at survival.
