The Loan Shark ATM Clerk, the Perfect Crime (Attempted) Involving 100 Yen
#CreativeAward2026
#WorkplaceNovelCategory
Loan shark ATMs are surprisingly located in all sorts of places.
Some are attached to branches like banks, some are paired with automated reception machines on the roadside, and others are near pachinko parlors... and so on. They stand quietly here and there along our daily routes.
As the payment date approaches, the inside of the ATM swells up with repayments. Since we can't wait for the security company's scheduled transport, employees often go to collect the cash directly.
Also,ATMs get jammed quite often.
Crumpled bills, or those daredevils who try to deposit bills along with rubber bands and receipts... every time such an "accident" occurs, an employee rushes to the scene.
That day, an order came down from Mr. Kimoto.
Mr. Kimoto: "Sato-kun, the ATM in front of the station is already full, so could you pull the cash out and deposit it at the bank?"
Me: "Yes, understood!"
And so, I walked along Konishi-dori in Nara—a charming shopping street with a somewhat narrow road—heading toward the ATM.
I unlocked the door, opened the ATM, and pulled the cash out of the box filled with bills. The amount was approximately 5 million yen.
The coins seem fine.
Finally, it's time to reconcile the balance.
I called the branch to confirm the balance on the books and compared it with the amount displayed on the ATM—
...100 yen, it doesn't match.
Just like at a bank, in this industry, if the amount is off by even one yen, it's basically a big deal. Breaking into a cold sweat, I called Mr. Kimoto.
Me: "Mr. Kimoto, the 100 yen just won't match. I've been searching everywhere for it, but..."
Then Mr. Kimoto, sounding a bit annoyed, said,
Mr. Kimoto: "Hmm, so you're 100 yen short. Just put in your own 100 yen, Sato-kun."put in your own 100 yen
Mr. Kimoto is quite careless about things like this.
And—I am also quite sloppy.
Me: "Yes, understood!"
I took a 100-yen coin out of my wallet and quietly inserted it into the ATM. The balance matched perfectly, and I returned to the office with a straight face.
Case closed. All's well that ends well.
...If you do things sloppily, eventually it will be found out.
It happened a few days later.
A phone call from the security company. The person who answered was "Sister Higashi," a former delinquent who was very principled. The message was as follows:
"A 100-yen coin was found inside the ATM machine. However, the count is correct. How should we handle this?"
...Those of you with good intuition have probably already realized.
That's right. The 100 yen that wouldn't balance that day had simply fallen inside the ATM. In other words, the cash inside the machine was correct from the start, and the only thing that was short was my own calculation while staring at the ledger.
And that 100-yen coin I inserted to "make up for it"—was completely extra.
In effect, that is my 100 yen.
At this point, Branch Manager Maeda, who knew nothing of the situation, took action.
Branch Manager: "Sato-kun, go to the ATM and pick up that 100 yen."
Me: "Yes."
Branch Manager: "And then... take it to the police box."
Me: "Eh? The police box?"
That's right. The branch manager didn't know. He didn't know about the perfect crime (attempted) where I conspired with Kimoto-san and inserted 100 yen from my own wallet into the ATM.
Branch Manager: "Well, the amount matches, and the security company found it, so we have no choice according to the rules. We have to report it as lost property."
I quietly looked over at Kimoto-san.
They successfully avoided making eye contact with me.
And so, I jogged back through Konishi Street to the ATM. From the heavily equipped security guard, I respectfully received a 100-yen coin. The very same 100-yen coin that used to be in my wallet.
Then, I headed to the nearby police box.
The officer handled the matter, but he wore a suspicious expression the entire time. His face seemed to say, 'Why would a company go out of its way to collect such a small amount...' Of course, I couldn't explain the deeper circumstances.
I filled out my address and name on a thin, oil-blotting paper-like form, and the procedure was complete.
In this way, I officially released into the world a piece of lost property for which the owner would never appear.
Picking up my own 100 yen, and delivering it to the police box myself.
The morning in Nara is peaceful again today.