Have you ever been somewhere way too fancy for you? For instance, stepping into a luxurious boutique, where you feel as if everyone is watching you, like your very presence is a crime, and the staff is seconds away from calling the cops or throwing you out.

That was exactly my state, sitting in that expensive car, right next to the absolutely flawless-looking man.

I was dirty, smelled bad, and my palms were scraped and raw. I tried not to touch anything. Fortunately, nothing was dripping, but I still kept my hands above my knees, afraid of getting something dirty.

And on top of that, the air inside the car was filled with unbearably awkward silence.

For some completely irrational reason, I was convinced it was my fault, that I was responsible for the discomfort of these two people. That somehow, I was supposed to be the one to say something first, to make it less awful.

Every part of me was too loud in that silence. My heartbeat, the swallow in my throat, and even the way my chest rose and fell.

I could feel with my skin that both the man and the driver were expecting something from me, a question, a story, anything at all.

The pressure of it all weighed on me, and panic started to build inside my chest. It was eerily similar to the panic I’d had while running from that very same car.

As for him, he stayed calm and half-turned toward me. His gaze sent chills all the way down my spine. That did absolutely nothing to make this situation easier.

My gut feeling that I shouldn’t have gotten into this car was probably right.

The way he looked at me made me feel uncomfortably warm. It was probably just embarrassment, awkwardness, and silence. All of it pressed in on me until I started blushing.

That had to be it.

Definitely.

There were no other reasons, right?

The one small blessing in all of this was that I’d managed to pull on the disposable mask before he noticed me.

Sure, breathing had been miserable while I was running, and now it was also incredibly uncomfortable. My face was already burning under it. But at this moment, the mask was my saving grace. Between it and the hood pulled low over my head, there was no way he could see how badly I was blushing. Even if he did notice, I could always blame it on the heat. So yeah, despite every bit of discomfort, I was genuinely grateful for that mask.

The driver’s attention stayed fixed on the road, but I still hated the idea of him being there at all. He was an extra witness to everything happening in this car. He could notice how nervous I was. How red I had become. How fast my heart was pounding. The thought that someone else could notice any of it was unbearable.

I knew it was ridiculous. Back at the bar, there were always far more witnesses. Anyone nearby could overhear us, jump into the conversation, interrupt, and make it awkward. But the bar was home. It was my territory. There, the mask protected me, the bar counter was my shield, and Kazuo was always nearby, ready to turn any uneasy moment into a joke.

In the bar, I was safe. Here, though, I felt exposed.

And then, as if waiting for my suffering to peak, the man next to me finally broke the silence.

“You once said,” he began, “that if I were lucky, I might see you without the mask.” He paused. “…It appears my luck is improving a little.” His gaze traced the small part of my face that the mask didn’t cover. “Perhaps, someday, it will improve enough to show me the rest.”

My throat was too tight to answer. I cleared it once and forced out something that sounded vaguely like a laugh. “Yeah. Well. Lucky timing… I guess.”

He sat in silence for a while, with eyes fixed on me. Then, suddenly, he asked: “Why the bar?”

It caught me off guard. “What?”

“You’re young,” he said. “You could’ve chosen a university, a different kind of work. So why a bar?”

That… was much more dangerous than the mask question.

I tried to shrug, casually. “Just how things worked out.”

“Mm,” he said, not convinced. “Kazuo seems fond of you.”

I blinked. “You know Kazuo?”

“I observe.” His mouth curved a little.

I stared at my knees. “He took me in when I was sixteen,” I said quietly. “Helped me finish high school. Thought I’d try college, but… guess that didn’t pan out. So I stayed.”

“And you like it there?”

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah… I guess I do. Kazuo, the regulars… the bar itself. It’s kind of become my family. I don’t really imagine my life without it anymore.” I swallowed, suddenly aware of how much I was saying. “So… yeah. I like it.”

As soon as the last word left my mouth, my chest tightened. Too much. I’d said way too much. Heat crawled up the back of my neck, and I couldn’t look at him.

But he just said slowly. “Such places are rare. They are priceless.”

There was something strange in his voice, something that made me think he understood me.

I glanced up.

He was still watching me.

When I didn’t speak, he tilted his head as though wondering what else he might talk to me about.

“You’ve asked me nothing in return,” he said after a moment. “Aren’t you at least curious about me?” There was a slight challenge in it.

I swallowed.

Of course, I was curious. I was so curious that questions had been piling up in my head nonstop.

Who he was, where he was from, why our bar, why he slept there, why he kept coming back, why always at different times, and why he was giving me a ride now. There were a million of them.

But the moment he spoke, my mind went completely blank.

I scrambled, trying to grab onto something, anything, and finally muttered, “I—I was just… waiting for the right moment.”

“Well,” he said, “you can consider this it.”

My palms were slick with sweat. The cuts on them started to sting, but that was nothing compared to the heat flooding my body. It was like sitting through an exam, except this one was painfully embarrassing.

I took a deep breath. “Okay. Fine. Where do you work?”

He studied me seriously for a while, then a faint smirk crossed his face. He gestured toward the window. “I suppose I’ll tell you next time.”

I turned and realized we were already pulling up to the bar.

“Oh,” I managed, trying not to sound disappointed. “Yeah. Next time.”

He looked away, giving me a chance to pull myself back together.

I had no idea what I was feeling or what I was supposed to do. Part of me didn’t want to leave at all. We’d never been this close before. We’d never had a moment outside the bar. And yet, at the same time, the situation weighed on me so heavily that I desperately wanted to get out of the car. For a split second, I even considered yanking the door open and running, but that would’ve been beyond stupid.

I glanced down at my palms again, then at the handle of that impossibly expensive car, hesitation curling in my chest. If I touched it now, I’d leave a mark. As if noticing my pause, he leaned across me and opened the door himself. His body was suddenly so close that, if not for the mask, my breath would’ve brushed against him. As he reached for the door, his scent washed over me in a soft wave. It was the most overwhelming moment of the entire ride.

He leaned back into his seat, his expression calm as ever, and said, “Well then. Try not to miss me too much tonight, bartender.”

My face burned. I turned away quickly, slipping out of the car.

“No promises.” I managed, didn’t dare look back at him.

I closed the door behind me. The same soft, expensive click echoed in the air, and the car pulled away without hesitation.

I stayed where I was, unable to lift my head and watch it disappear.

Then I forced myself to turn toward the bar, took a few steps, reached for the handle, but didn’t pull it open right away.

Inside, I would become who I was supposed to be. A bartender who took orders, poured drinks, listened, and made things a little easier for other people.

But out here, for a few more seconds, I wasn’t there yet.

Standing like this, I could still smell him, feel that mix of nerves, tension, and something restless left behind by the ride.

Finally, I took a breath, pushed the door inward, and stepped back into my place.