The Testing Woman, Episode 2: The First Lie [Creative Awards Romance Novel Category]

──I am Rikako. Twenty-two years old, and this is my second year living in Tokyo.

Yet, tonight, clutching a business card from Ginza, my heart was pounding just like it did on my first day in the city.

The day I was scouted in Ginza, I told Kaoru-san, "I don't want him to find out."

“Then you should get ready here. If you’re going to lie, do it carefully until the very end.”

That was the first “lie.”

I heard that normally, hostesses get ready at home. But I didn't want Kento to know, no matter what. The night work. The Ginza dresses. The curled hair. The me that was changing in the mirror.

Kaoru-san’s room felt like a corner of a hotel suite.

The living room, based in white, had a faint scent of jasmine drifting through it. It wasn't the scent of the flower itself, but something slightly artificial, yet not unpleasant. Cosmetics were meticulously lined up on the dresser, and a bottle of mineral water and a thin glass sat on a small round table by the window. The sunset through the curtains dyed the white walls of the room a faint madder red.

That space didn't resemble anywhere I knew. The curated air. The soft cushions. The perfume bottles sparkling in the light. Everything seemed to confront me with the reality of “being a woman.”

Kaoru-san—the Mama’s right-hand woman. A high-achieving hostess who climbed the ranks with intellectual conversation and attentiveness. I heard she was envied by her colleagues behind her back, but she was kind to me. Even when she chose harsh words, there was always a sense of compassion in her pauses.

“You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

Kaoru-san said that and gently placed her hand on my shoulder. I could feel the warmth of her fingers. I hunched my shoulders and smiled involuntarily.

“It’s alright. Everyone has a first time in Ginza.”

She said that and took a sip from her glass of mineral water.

“Don’t you drink alcohol?”

When I asked that, Kaoru-san lowered her eyes slightly before answering.

“I don’t drink outside of work. If you get into the habit of drinking, the boundaries disappear.”

Then, after a short pause, she continued.

“You know, it’s better for a hostess not to like alcohol. If you like it, it becomes an escape. If it becomes an escape, you get trapped. Before you know it, your heart and body will break somewhere.”

I didn't necessarily nod deeply at those words, but the water in the glass suddenly looked transparent and frightening.

I had planned to get my hair done at a salon, so I only did my makeup and changed into my dress at Kaoru-san's apartment. The moment I zipped up my dress and put on my heels, I felt as if my feet were floating off the ground.

We headed to Ginza by taxi. Kaoru-san, in the passenger seat, was looking out the window, her hair swaying slightly. There was a partition between us and the driver, and jazz was playing in the car. I clasped my hands on my lap and shifted my feet slightly, as if to confirm the feel of my stockings.

Our destination was a salon specializing in hair styling. Glamorous hostesses exchanged glances through the mirrors as their hair was curled by professional hands. Every time long hair tangled in a brush and the heat of a curling iron rose, the sweet scent of hair products drifted through the air.

The cost was 3,000 yen. Kaoru-san paid it casually.

"At first, you don't need to worry about it. Think of it as an investment."

After my hair was finished, I looked at my styled face in the mirror and gasped. It was like someone else. My eyes were dark, my lips were glossy, and the hair flowing around my neck brushed against my shoulders. I learned that the contours of a woman's face could change so much with just the angle of her gaze.

7:00 PM. Before heading to the club, Kaoru-san took me to a small restaurant. A quiet, hideaway-like French place. Glasses lined up on a white tablecloth, and the neon lights floating vaguely outside the window.

"Today, you're my guest. You can relax."

At a table in the back of the restaurant sat an older man dressed in a soft suit. With gray hair, thin glasses, refined features, and a gentle demeanor. I felt like I had seen him on TV or in the newspaper—the moment I thought that, I unconsciously straightened my back.

A politician. No doubt about it.

I felt like I had heard his name somewhere, but I couldn't recall it. However, his calm tone and the careful way he chose his words gradually eased my tension.

"Have you been in Tokyo long?" "About two years." "I see. And your work in Ginza?" "...Today is my first time."

This was the truth. But I was aware that my voice was trembling just a little. My trembling lips touched the rim of the glass, and the cold champagne slid down my throat. That sensation calmed me down just a little.

"Well, I'll go ahead. I have a few things to take care of."

After finishing the meal at the restaurant, the man—the politician—said this with a wry smile. Then, checking the time by swiping on his smartphone, he straightened his suit jacket and sent a signal to Kaoru-san with just his eyes. A silent conversation that said nothing, yet conveyed everything.

I thought to myself, that must be how people in this world do things.

"See you later, then."

When Kaoru-san replied quietly, he finished the water left in his glass and stood up calmly.

—We waited a few minutes after seeing him off before heading to the club.

The moment I stepped through the door of the club, I lost my words.

What spread out before me was a space that looked just like a foreign palace. The light from the chandelier reflected off the crystals on the ceiling, and tiny sparkles floated in the air. The air was slightly sweet, with a faint hint of humidity, and it felt as if it were spreading softly inside my mouth.

On the round table in the center, covered with a white cloth, stood a statue of a goddess with wings spread, possessing a texture like marble. Her silent, suggestive posture lent the space a sense of tension and an unstable elegance. Every time I was looked down upon by that goddess, I felt the illusion that someone was reaching deep into my heart.

On the walls, objects housed in gold frames were lined up at equal intervals, with lighting spotlighting each one. Everything that met my eyes had been perfectly arranged by someone's hand. That excessive level of perfection made me feel rather unsettled. I felt as if only my own breathing was damp and noisy within this space.

On the wall to my right, red and white striped marble ran diagonally, and in front of it were sofas in soft hues. The hostesses sitting there looked like figures in a painting, and their smiles and conversations seemed somehow theatrical. Every time our eyes met, I felt a stir that made my skin crawl. Even though no one had spoken to me, I was already being watched.

I almost stopped walking. But Kaoru-san did not look back.

Her back was flawless, cold, and beautiful, like a night dress that shimmered smoothly. It was as if she were wearing this space itself, and I had no choice but to silently follow her back.

"Don't be nervous, it's okay. Just match your breathing to the air in the shop."

When she whispered that, I finally took a breath. But even that single breath felt as if it didn't belong to me. The air passing through my throat didn't settle well, like a voice borrowed from someone else.

The rims of the glasses were aligned, and even the positions of the chairs were perfectly set. In this well-balanced space, I was the only one who felt like a "temporary placement." Every time the sound of my heels hit the carpet, water seemed to soak deep into my heart—.

This is not an "extension of daily life." This is a night stage performed by those who have been chosen. I have only just stood at the edge of that stage.

However, why I am here, and where I am heading—only that remained completely blurred.

And then, in a corner of the sofa that had opened up in the slightly crowded shop, there was the "kind man" from earlier.

Kaoru-san gently pulled my arm.

"Sit next to him. It's okay."

As if guided by those words, I slowly sat down on the sofa. A glass was offered, and he smiled gently.

"Welcome again. Please, make yourself comfortable."

I could only manage a faint nod in return. I knew that the rhythm of my breathing was slightly off.

—Suddenly, I realized.

Kaoru-san had disappeared.

Just like an actor on stage slipping into the wings during a blackout, she had vanished from my sight without a sound.

Me, him, and the bubbles in the glass. The scent of perfume spreading in the gaps of silence.

It was strange. Just because someone who had been breathing the same air as me until a few minutes ago was gone, did the world really have to feel like it was crumbling from beneath my feet?

Even while exchanging words, my ears were picking up the sounds around us. Laughter, the clinking of glasses, someone's husky voice—it all sounded like it was echoing from behind a membrane. I was inside that membrane. But I was also outside of it.

That time might have only been a few minutes. But to me, it felt like an eternity.

“Sorry, I just need to report Rikako-chan's first shift to the manager.”

When Kaoru-san returned, I was finally able to exhale. She sat down next to me as if it were the most natural thing in the world, casually picked up my glass, tilted it slightly, and smiled.

“You're nervous, aren't you? But you have a good look on your face.”

It wasn't so much a gesture of concern as it was the words of a director speaking to the lead of a play.

Glasses were lined up, and champagne was poured. He didn't make a single crude joke and listened to me the whole time. About my temp job, moving to Tokyo, the snow in my hometown. He listened with a smile to memories that no one else had ever laughed at.

Before I knew it, I was laughing. I felt like that was the first time I realized that wasn't just a “customer service smile.”

On the way home, Kaoru-san said:

“Kind men, you see, are the ones who ruin women the most. Remember that.”
“I was like that. The moment I relied on kindness, I lost my standing in both work and love.”

I didn't quite understand the meaning of those words yet. But for some reason, something cold settled in my chest. Walking in the night breeze while pinching the hem of my glossy dress felt like the lingering afterglow after the curtain had fallen on a stage.

I returned to Kaoru-san's room again to change. I let down my hair, wiped off my lipstick, and washed the foundation off in the sink. The eyes of the person in the mirror were a little red.

It was the moment I returned from some role to my “true self.” But I was becoming a little less sure of where that “true self” actually was. Even though my naked self should have been beneath the dress I had taken off, even that skin seemed to carry the shadow of someone else.

When I returned to my apartment in Shimouma, the room was dark, with only the television dimly on. A silence that felt like it was covered in dust. Kento looked at me with sleepy eyes while lying on the sofa. There was the same gentle smile in his eyes as when I first moved to Tokyo, but I could also feel the accumulation of daily fatigue.

“Welcome back... you were late.”

“Overtime ran long.”

I said that and smiled. My throat was a little dry. The sound of me taking water out of the refrigerator echoed strangely loud.

I don't know if he sensed anything. But the next moment, he stood up and hugged me. Strongly, roughly, but somehow clumsily. We fell onto the bed just like that, and he took off my clothes.

Skin touching skin without even a shower. His hot breath and the sounds leaking from the back of my throat. Every time we joined, I found myself whispering "untie me" deep within my breath. To Kento, or perhaps to myself.

But which one it was, I was no longer certain.

That night, I felt as though something inside me had quietly broken.