Snow fell.
The last gasp of winter, the dawn of the New Year.
Christmas trees twinkled with colored lights, and staff in reindeer hats dotted the streets. Couples strolled, girls clutching boyfriends' hands, holding roses grown in greenhouses. Snow dusted rooftops, and shop windows glowed with fashionable clothes and delicate gifts under warm lamps.
After over three hundred bustling days, the city slowed, its corners brimming with festive cheer. People sang, drank, and bid farewell to the old year.
Christmas was just a prelude, a brake on the year's frenzy.
"Year-end, and Dad's workload only gets heavier. Tough for him," Sakura muttered, her new boots leaving prints in the shallow snow.
"No worries, his credit card's here for us," Her young mom teased, swinging shopping bags.
"That's kinda sad if he's just a card."
"Hoho, growing up, huh? Feeling for the man toiling for the family?" Her mom hugged her close. "Say 'thanks for your hard work' when we get home. He'll cry from joy."
"No way, too embarrassing."
"Let's see… gifts for relatives, new clothes, toys for the nieces and nephews—check. Anything else you want, Ayane?" Her mom asked, reviewing her list.
"I'm good."
"Alright, let's eat, then shop some more."
"Haven't we bought enough?"
"Shopping's shopping, buying's buying," Her mom said. "One's fun, the other's life."
"So together they're living it up?"
"Exactly!" Her mom, more sister than mother, laughed. "What're we eating?"
Sakura scanned the lively, festive street, hesitating. "Western food, then."
…
"Welcome, lovely ladies. You're like winter sprites, bringing spring's warmth," The waiter said, greeting the newcomers.
"Really? Thank you! Any seats left?" Sakura's mom said, smiling, hand on her cheek.
"Of course, right this way," The waiter said, leading them.
Sakura peeked at him from behind, surprised, then glanced around as if searching for someone.
"Ayane, what's up? Over here," Her mom called, waving.
"Coming."
Meanwhile, at table 18.
"Please give this Christmas gift to one of your waiters, as thanks for his kindness when I was down," A sharp, short-haired woman said calmly.
"Who specifically?" The waiter asked politely.
"Don't know, but he's young, handsome, probably a student," She said.
"That's vague. Got a name?" The waiter pressed.
"He didn't say."
"Hmm…" The waiter hesitated.
"Maybe a part-timer," She added suddenly.
"Our part-timers rotate. Longest was three weeks, and no students are working now," The waiter replied.
The woman froze, disappointment flickering across her face, a hollow ache like losing a first love. Her eyes dropped, voice soft. "Keep the gift here, then. Pass it on if you get the chance."
She stood to leave.
"Not eating?" The waiter asked quickly.
"No," Chima Hayasako said, brushing at her eyes, walking away with a resolute back.
Five minutes later, table 27.
"Where's the boy?" A 300-pound CEO, dripping in gold, demanded, her bulk quivering.
"Which one?" The waiter asked, dazed.
"The handsome one!" She barked.
"…I'm pretty dashing myself," The waiter said, touching his face. He wasn't exaggerating—back in college, he was the star of the fitness club, always center in photos.
"Don't mess with me!" She roared, slamming the table. "Where's my 'Rose Prince'?"
"Ma'am, calm down. This is a regular restaurant, not some place with flowery nicknames!" The waiter said, stunned.
"You're lying! He's not a hallucination. Let me see him, just once," She pleaded, tears falling, a woman who usually decided fates now reduced to desperate longing.
This scene had been repeating for days.
The manager, behind the counter, stared at the plummeting guest numbers and orders for premium dishes like deep-sea abalone and king crab, sinking into silence.
I could endure dark solitude if I'd never seen dazzling sunlight.
I could tolerate subway crowds if I'd never floored a lightweight supercar.
After long thought, the manager called a familiar hostess, asking if she knew any talent-packed host clubs.
"Ayane, why do you keep looking around?" Her mom asked, eyeing her restless daughter.
"Just… checking the decor."
A twinge of disappointment hit her, like passing a corner where a stray cat always napped in the sun, tail swaying, only to find it gone, today's anticipation unmet, with no clue where it'd show up next.
[Volume 1: Blooming in a Foreign Land - END]