"Make sure you go back to your room."

In the end, I missed the last train... This is what serves me right.

Still, the reason I don’t feel anxious may be because Mr. Furusame is beside me.

“It’s this late... I hope a taxi stops.”

Mr. Furusame, who said that as he flagged down a taxi for me, apparently still has time to catch the last train, so he’ll be going home by train.

I’ve made my senior go to so much trouble for my sake, and it’s a strange feeling, a mix of guilt and gratitude.

“Make sure you get back to your room.”

“If anything happens, contact me. I slipped my phone number into your pocket.”

His face, which had been flushed from alcohol while we were at the bar, had somehow become the dependable senior I always see at work.

I thanked him and quietly slipped my hand into my jacket pocket.