1.23 - A Story About a Married Teacher Who Becomes Obsessed With Her Female Student

Chapter One: "The Scent of the Sea Doesn't Reach Me" - Part Twenty-Three "When a friend asked if you wanted to check out a cool place, you tagged along, only to find you were at a hostess club. You thought, 'Might as well,' so you sat down, drank way too much, blacked out, and was eventually carried to a student's house, returning home in the morning." My husband listened quietly to my explanation and sums it up concisely. "That's pretty much the whole story." "Wow... you're really pushing the envelope here." It's hard to tell from his tone whether he's exasperated, impressed, or sarcastic. His eyes, however, are wide with surprise. I imagine I'd be equally stunned if he returned home after such a night. A slow, dull pain tightens around my stomach and head. "I'm sorry." "No, it's just good you're safe. When I peeked into the bedroom this morning, it was empty, and I couldn't reach you." "I'm really sorry." "Please forgive me." Why is he preemptively asking for forgiveness? But on closer inspection, I see his brow is furrowed as if he's enduring a headache too. "You seem to be in pain as well." "Yeah... actually, though I'm not on your level, I had quite the time yesterday myself..." His frown is deeply etched, suggesting his hangover is severe. What a pair we make. "I remember getting on the train, but my memory from the station over here is a complete fog." "That's pretty dangerous." You'll end up like me. "That's why I didn't even notice you weren't home last night. I assumed you were already asleep and just collapsed into bed myself." "I see..." That explains why he didn't reach out. "You seem like you had a great time, but do you think the school will get mad about this?" "Well... if they find out, it might be a problem." There's not much I can do about it now, so I'll just have to see what unfolds. "You're sure the student's house you stayed at wasn't a boy's?" "No, it was a girl's." My husband seems relieved, naturally suspecting nothing. He doesn't even conceive the possibility that I might make a move on a girl. ...Of course, I wouldn't. "Still, I'm surprised her family let you in so late at night." "Ah, well, that household... they have some things going on." I decide not to divulge my student's family matters, even to my husband. "It's rare to see you smelling like alcohol." His comment on my scent makes me inwardly flinch. I wonder if he notices the other scent hidden beneath the alcohol's odor. I've gotten used to it and can now smell it a little, so my nose involuntarily twitches. "So, there's something I've been dying to ask." "What is it?" "Well... what's a hostess club like? I've actually never been." Even though it's just the two of us, my husband lowers his voice as if sharing a secret. I chuckle at his curiosity. "The girls were very attentive, and the drinks kept coming." "Sounds like a dreamland! Completely different from the sorry booze I had." Seeing how excited he became, I felt like I had to say something. "Not that I'm in a position to preach, but... you shouldn't go to hostess clubs." I had narrowly avoided a crisis. The terrifying part was I still couldn't recall what I did while inebriated at the club. Though I doubted it surpassed what transpired at Togawa-san's house, anything could have happened, which could spell social death. "Is it that expensive? I mean, how did you manage to pay after drinking so much?" "Come to think of it... how did I settle the bill?" I hadn't even checked if my wallet was still in my bag. Now that I looked, I was relieved to find it untouched. Its contents seemed intact as well. Perhaps Hoshi-san had covered for me. If so, I'd have to reimburse her later. "Well, it was quite the adventure then." "I fell from heaven to see the depths of hell." My husband laughs it off ambiguously, but from my perspective, it was the truth. Hell. If that wasn't hell, what was it? Togawa-san's kindness was both my saving grace and worsened my shame. "Go take a bath and rest a bit. I'm glad you're safe." My husband wraps it up neatly. "I will," I say, getting up with a zombie-like groan. "Don't fall asleep and drown in the tub." "Got it." With that resolved, one worry vanishes, though my head, now lighter, spins, reuniting with my headache and nausea, forcing me to walk with caution. Standing in the bathroom's doorway, it feels like I'm finally waking up from a journey through nightmares. I listlessly start undressing, and as I hook my finger around my underwear, a memory resurfaces, and I waver. As I catch my worn-out reflection in the mirror, my knees buckle. "Uuuuuu..." I whimper, clutching the underwear a student washed for me, and shed a few tears. I felt that the hardships of life that I was experiencing for the first were a little different from other people's. * * * There was the option to wait until Monday to go to the school, but the thought of enduring until then felt unbearable. I spent the day mostly resting, doing virtually nothing, and finally, my body, which had been out of sorts, realigned to function properly again. However, I could no longer mask the heavy burden in my heart. "Shall I come with you?" my husband offered. "No, it's fine. Really, I'll go alone." The risk of my bathroom incident being revealed to my husband loomed, so I politely but firmly refused. This was knowledge that shouldn't be shared with another soul, if possible. Part of me wished even Togawa-san could forget it happened—though I knew that was impossible. Imagining that every time Togawa-san saw me, she'd think of me as the "pee teacher" made me want to disappear. I resolved to visit Togawa-san to express my gratitude and apologies anew, setting out late Sunday morning. Beforehand, I posted a note in my room as a form of self-reprimand: [Abstain from Alcohol.] "If I drink alcohol again, may it be lethal." Alternatively, may I explode. Even cooking wine should cause a fatal explosion. I wrote this with that feeling in mind. Sticking the note by my vanity meant I would see it even while lying in bed. But I'm worried that every time I see it, I'll just remember what happened and roll around in regret and agony. "...Reminders should stay in the heart," I muttered, tearing it down before I left. I had no direct way to contact Togawa-san, so it was entirely possible she wouldn't be home. Yet, even knowing this, I didn't stop. Togawa-san would never come to my house, after all. Even though it was just an apology, the thought of meeting Togawa-san made my chest tighten slightly. My pace quickened, the speed of my stride and foot movements crushing any excuses and solidifying my conviction. I'm getting wrapped up in Togawa Rin. Not even looking down, I'm forging ahead. Unbeknownst to me, the bricks are crumbling one by one, falling apart. Slowly but surely, dismantling further. Upon reaching Togawa-san's house, my worries materialized. The doorbell elicited no response. It seemed impractical to wait outside for hours until she returned. I looked up, half hoping the sun might offer guidance. The familiar, deepening heat of the sun was unchanged, a constant even with the turmoil in the world below. What a leisurely life. I also wished to go with the flow and live as a regular teacher. The "pee teacher". "Fff... fff..." I wonder if I'll have to deal with the urge to scream and run around the area, clutching my head, for the rest of my life. I was painfully aware that there is no redoing things in life. Deciding against yelling outside someone's house, I opted to wander toward the station instead.