The clock turned back four hours. As agreed, on Saturday night Minamoto Senya reported for work at the "En" bar.
The owner, who had a loyal customer group, snapped a picture of Senya and posted it to their private chat.That handsome boy from before is working tonight!
The group exploded instantly.
An hour later, the long counter of the bar was already packed with women.
Senya's cocktail mixing had grown more polished and showy with practice. His skill had just reached Level 2 — still lacking compared to true professionals, with plenty of rough edges.
But were the patrons here for his technical precision? Of course not. He was handsome — and that alone was more than enough.
Better yet, his voice was pleasant, his manner disarmingly smooth.
Following the bar owner's plan, Senya occasionally produced a rose from behind the counter, hidden from view, and placed it beside the cocktail when serving a drink.
A killer move.
The women, tipsy and flushed, lit up as though struck by springtime itself. Holding the red roses with delight, they trembled with the giddy stirrings of first love, and their tips flowed freely.
Still, tips alone weren't the reason Senya would return home tonight and tell Toka, "We've struck it rich."
The turning point came when he excused himself to the bathroom.
His phone buzzed. It was Rinko-mama.
Her voice was cautious."Senya, one of Mama's longtime regulars called just now, asking how I've been. We chatted a bit, and she brought up that you'd served her at the bar some time ago. She asked about you, and… Mama let slip that you've been working here part-time to help with the family finances. That won't cause trouble, will it?"
Senya froze, instantly guessing who it was. A "regular," taking special interest in him? That had to be Tōma Yōko.
If she was suddenly calling about this, then she must have just come back from the hospital.
"It's fine. Don't worry about me, Mama. How are things on your end? How's Dad's recovery?"
They exchanged a few words, Senya soothing her as best he could, before he hung up.
An hour later, even with her mask on, Senya immediately recognized the woman who walked in.
Tōma Yōko.
She didn't bother with theatrics. After finding a seat, she removed her mask and waved lightly toward Senya.
He returned to his mixing, but she didn't press, simply ordered a hot milk and sat in silence until he was free.
At eight-thirty, outside the bar—
"Sorry, Ms. Tōma. I couldn't exactly tend to you earlier."
"No need to apologize. I dropped in unannounced. And really, there's no need for honorifics either."
She pulled out her car keys. The headlights of a sleek two-door coupe flared to life at the curb.
"Let's find somewhere to talk."
Senya nodded.
—
A private, upscale café.
Senya and Tōma Yōko sat across from each other.
After the waiter set down their coffee and left, she was the first to speak.
"Senya, you don't look the least bit surprised to see me here."
"My mother called before you arrived."
"But I never told her I'd be coming to meet you."
At that, Senya only smiled faintly, saying nothing.
Her eyes narrowed — then softened with amusement."I followed your advice. I went to the hospital for a full examination. Some of the procedures were… unpleasant. Having a tube shoved down your throat is hardly delightful. My daughter grumbled the entire time, and I felt ridiculous for worrying so much.
"But when the results came back, I was nothing but grateful."
Her gaze sharpened. She didn't bother with suspense."They found stomach cancer. Early stage. The tumor was under one centimeter. With endoscopic mucosal resection and rest, it'll be completely cured. It won't even affect my daily life afterward."
Senya exhaled, relief evident."Unfortunate — but the best possible outcome."
"You tipped me off deliberately, didn't you? You let me believe your father was gravely ill, just to make me take it seriously. And when you said someone was secretly watching me… you knew it was my own staff, didn't you?"
Senya nodded. No point denying it. A woman like her hadn't reached this height by being slow-witted. She already had her answers; she only wanted confirmation.
"But there's one thing I can't understand," she pressed. "How did you know something was wrong with my body?"
Senya had expected this. The truth was impossible to tell. But there were plausible half-truths. All he needed was something she could believe.
"Observation and diagnosis," he said simply.
Her brows drew together. "…Chinese medicine?"
"That's right. I once took an interest in reading about traditional diagnostics. In particular, the 'looking' method — observing someone's appearance, complexion, bearing, even the tongue, to judge internal health.
"When I saw the redness around your nose, the faint green between your brows, and the pale coating on your tongue as you spoke, I thought something might be off. So I hinted that you should go for a checkup.
"At worst, I'd be mistaken — and that would do no harm. But as it turned out, my amateur guess was right."
His words were calm, orderly, delivered with the same gentle smile he always wore. Anyone listening could almost believe he was some master physician pretending to be modest.
He made it sound trivial, but to Yōko, it was anything but.
The doctors had told her bluntly: with her current lifestyle — endless work, poor diet, heavy drinking — early stomach cancer would've advanced to a terminal stage frighteningly fast. By the time she noticed, it would've been too late.
This boy hadn't just saved her life.
Her daughter, Kazusa, had collapsed to the floor the moment the word cancer was spoken. Even after hearing early stage, curable, she'd wept for a long time.
In a sense, Minamoto Senya had saved both mother and daughter.
"Those casual words of yours became a lifeline for me," she said softly.
Her gaze warmed. She pulled a checkbook from her bag, revealing her true purpose for tonight.
"Senya, I owe you a debt beyond measure. Money can't balance it, I know. But if you ever face difficulties, come to me. Whatever is within my power, I'll do."
She signed, tore out the check, and slid it across the table.
Senya blinked at the number written there.
One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred thousand, million…
Ten million yen.