We Hate Each Other, But It Started With a One-Night Stand - Chapter 10.1

Hatano was led to an authentic bar in the city, decorated with what looked like expensive antiques.

Inside the dimly lit establishment, pleasant jazz music flowed, and behind the counter, an intimidating array of liquors was displayed. An elderly bartender, whose movements suggested seasoned skill, polished glasses in the back. Throughout the bar, well-dressed patrons in neat attire enjoyed their drinks.

Hatano, in his casual clothes, wanted to leave immediately upon entering this serious bar, whose atmosphere was clearly different from the usual izakaya he frequented. However, Rokai, who had already taken a seat at the counter, gave a soft chuckle.

“Don’t worry about manners. Despite appearances, this is a casual place.”

As she said this, Rokai glanced briefly at the master.

The elderly man smiled elegantly and looked at Hatano, who sat down next.

“Welcome. If I may ask something presumptuous, are you an acquaintance of Rokai’s?”

Surprised that he might know her identity, Hatano nodded. The man then shook his shoulders even more cheerfully and flicked his eyes toward the wall. Following his gaze, Hatano saw a painting hanging there. It depicted people drinking together.

And having just seen numerous paintings earlier, Hatano intuitively understood the artist.

“Rokai is the owner here. If she invited you, you’re free to do as you please.”

The owner of this authentic bar, located within a rather impressive hotel in a corner of the city center. At a loss for words at this outrageous statement, Hatano looked at the man, then shifted his gaze to Rokai. She wore an elegant smile, in stark contrast to Shinomiya.

“That’s the situation. Please relax—of course, tonight is my treat.”

The rare watercolor painter who held solo exhibitions overseas was indeed a person of a different scale.

Hatano sighed at the strange encounter, realizing he had met an unbelievable person. He then tossed a vague order to the master: “Expensive and tasty booze.”

The master showed no sign of offense; instead, he cheerfully replied, “Understood,” and began preparations with fluid movements. Watching this with apparent enjoyment, Rokai caught Hatano’s gaze.

Vibrant black hair and beauty, lips that looked soft, and black eyes reminiscent of a clear night sky. A peerless beauty so identical it confirmed their blood relation to Shinomiya. He reaffirmed the fact that the woman he had seen on Shindo’s smartphone that day was now right before his eyes.

“Now then, Rokai-san. May I ask the reason you stopped me, even at the cost of the precious last train and your private time? ‘Time is money’ doesn’t apply to other people’s time, you know.”

“Now, now, Hatano-san. Please, no honorifics. Just Rokai, like before.”

Rokai wore a slightly mocking smile. Sensing a glimpse of her true nature behind that plastered-on smile, Hatano also relaxed.

“Fine, Rokai. Our objectives probably align, so let’s get along.”

“Yes, of course. But my way of speaking is a bit of a habit, so please forgive me.”

Without a hint of remorse, she said this cheerfully, then her expression subtly changed. “—Well then,” she said, her expression growing slightly more serious as she broached the main topic.

“Let me explain in order. First, as you know, I am the older sister of the ‘Shinomiya’ you know, and simultaneously, I am a watercolor painter who uses the pseudonym ‘Rokai.’ I am currently holding a solo exhibition at a domestic museum, primarily organized by my patron.”

He knew that much. That Shinomiya had an older sister, that this sister was an incredible person. He understood that the woman before him was none other than that person.

What he didn’t understand was why she had appeared before him.

“Earlier, I received word from my patron that my sister had visited the exhibition.”

“…They contacted you? Are they keeping watch or something?”

Normally, one wouldn’t expect such a report at this hour. Whether she had instructed it or the family was doing it, either way, it was an unusual response. As Hatano frowned at this, she shook her head slightly.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just that, as Shinomiya’s family, I needed to keep track of her movements. Lately, no one had been able to ascertain what she was doing.”

He would have been satisfied to hear that she was worried, but it seemed Rokai’s intentions weren’t leaning in that direction. Hatano raised an eyebrow at her words and looked at her face.

Meeting his gaze, Rokai’s cheeks relaxed slightly.

“What is it?”

“…Nothing.”

It was probably needless worry. According to Shinomiya, the person named Rokai was on her side.

She was the good person who protected Shinomiya’s position within the artistic Shinomiya family, scolded the father who didn’t love her as a daughter, and extended a hand to her when she tried to abandon her brush. Her earlier words were probably just for appearances; deep down, she must be worried about Shinomiya too.

“So, you got the report and came to check on Shinomiya’s movements. But now you’ve invited me to a bar and are engrossed in conversation. What’s with the change in plans? And what do you want with me in the first place?”

“If I met with her face-to-face, nothing would change and nothing would be born. It would only deepen the conflict between an older sister burdened with family duty and a younger sister driven out by it. I don’t mind that for myself… but she is my blood-related sister, even if she’s a failure. I thought it better to hear about her recent circumstances from someone who seems to know her.”

Hatano couldn’t believe his ears, his eyes widening as he stared at her face.

“…A failure?”

Unable to believe that the artist before him had so calmly called her own blood-related younger sister a failure, a boiling anger surged within him. So, her earlier words probably meant exactly what they seemed on the surface. She held no sisterly affection for Shinomiya.

From Shinomiya’s words, he had thought she was a wonderful person who cared for her sister. But was it Shinomiya’s misunderstanding, or was Rokai just skilled at acting? She wasn’t the upstanding person Shinomiya had described.

Rokai took a sip of the offered drink, her cool eyes softening only around her mouth as she looked at Hatano.

“Ah, about calling her a failure… before that, shall we talk about her family background?”

Hatano desperately soothed the emotions threatening to erupt, pressing his clenched fist carefully against the table to calm himself. Attacking her here and now would yield no results. If he truly cared about Shinomiya, he should suppress this anger and extract the necessary information from her.

“‘Shinomiya’ comes from a family of artists, and I heard she also held a brush like you. I heard from her about that ridiculous environment—being told by her father to change her painter name and challenge herself, how painful it was to keep painting without anyone’s recognition.”

Hiding his anger deep within and forcing calmness, Hatano spoke. Hearing this, Rokai raised her eyebrows in surprise, showing a difficult-to-read expression and tone as if feigning astonishment. “My, my.”

“I’m surprised. I didn’t know my foolish sister had told you that much.”

Driven by the urge to grab this personality-disordered woman by the collar for insulting Shinomiya in a way that grated on his nerves, he desperately suppressed it. Biting his lip, clenching his fist, he repeated in his head what actions would truly benefit Shinomiya.

However, Hatano couldn’t help but speak, unable to believe the woman before him.

“Today, I went to the aquarium with her. She told me that back when she was starting to hate painting, you took her to the aquarium and encouraged her…! I was relieved that even when cornered by everyone around her, she had at least one place to rely on.”

Heat began to fill his voice, but he made an effort to keep the volume down to avoid disturbing the other patrons.

He didn’t ask anything of her; he simply threw back the stories he had heard from Shinomiya. In a corner of his heart, he spoke as if clinging to the hope that this was all some mistake. If even she was Shinomiya’s enemy, then who had Shinomiya been living for, and what had she been hoping for?

Hearing Hatano’s strained words, Rokai slightly closed her eyes and spoke.

“Since she was little, people said she was clever. She was good at figuring out who to approach and how to turn them into someone beneficial for herself. Probably, she was trying to find meaning in that failure too, but…”

Having said that much, Rokai showed a flippant smile.

“Did something like that happen? I don’t really remember.”

Gritting his teeth hard, Hatano perceived the blood flowing thickly with anger. He didn’t consider himself a violent person, but he desperately wanted to punch the woman before him. What feelings had Shinomiya harbored—gratitude, admiration, jealousy, aversion—toward the genius named ‘Rokai’? Could a sister who was unaware of her own younger sister’s suffering truly be called a sister?

With his right hand, which wanted to form a fist, clutching his own chest, Hatano still didn’t want to let go of that slender thread of hope and forced out words.

“Today, I thought you called me here like this because you care about Shinomiya—your sister—at least a little. Because you’re worried about family.”

He stared into Rokai’s pitch-black eyes, like the dusk, trying to see through her heart.

However, Rokai burst out laughing with an air of barely contained amusement.

“I don’t feel any affection for a loser who ran away without achieving results.”

A sound like something snapping echoed in his head, and Hatano’s eyes flew wide open.

Clenching his teeth tightly, he stood up as if kicking the chair back and gripped his fist hard.

Driven by the impulse to grab her by the collar with one hand and punch that hateful cheek with his clenched fist, he stopped himself, thinking that violence wouldn’t solve anything and would only serve to vent his own frustration.

Halting his outstretched left hand, Hatano looked at Rokai, his breathing rough.

She was staring back at him with cool, assessing eyes.

In the bar, which had fallen silent in the tense, explosive atmosphere, Hatano desperately exercised self-control. Closing his eyes, he took repeated deep breaths and withdrew his extended hand. Then, he spat out his words, driven by emotion.

“She did run away, that’s true. She gave up fighting, suffering from not being recognized by anyone. That way of living is no different from a loser, and her current self-destructive lifestyle is probably even worse. But! She, no matter how jealous she gets, she doesn’t forget the kindness she received from family. She’s twisted, but her core is kind. No matter how much she hated them, she never insulted her family!”

The watercolor painter Rokai might be a genius. But that didn’t matter at all.

Whatever her position or thoughts, they had no effect on the relationship between Hatano and Shinomiya.

“From your family’s perspective, she might be a failure who couldn’t become an artist and just drags down the genius. But from my perspective, she’s just a cheeky, precious kohai. Someone connected by blood has no right to insult my friend.”

Spitting it all out emotionally, Hatano stared straight at Rokai.

His heightened emotions made his breathing rough. Having said his piece, Hatano took a deep breath to steady himself.

Rokai continued to silently watch Hatano, who had spoken in one breath, with an unreadable expression. The master, who had been observing the situation, slightly relaxed his mouth beneath his beard.

In the bar where jazz flowed, filling the gaps in the silence, Hatano and Rokai stared at each other.

Having said what he wanted to say, Hatano shoved his hands into his pockets and turned toward the exit.

“I feel sick, so I’m leaving. Don’t ever show your face to me again.”

He might have paid for the trouble he caused, but in his current state of mind, he couldn’t bring himself to carefully take bills from his wallet. He decided he would come apologize to the owner properly another time.

After a glance at Rokai’s silent profile, Hatano walked toward the exit. Just as he had taken about two steps, a voice tinged with relief struck his eardrums, blending with the jazz.

“That’s good.”

At that voice, Hatano involuntarily stopped.

He couldn’t understand what meaning the words she had finally uttered, after maintaining silence until now, held. However, as he stopped and thought a little, understanding gradually caught up.

Looking at her lowered eyebrows and relaxed profile, Hatano thought of one possibility. And as if affirming that possibility, Rokai continued.

“…I’m glad there’s someone like you by that child’s side.”

That voice belonged to an ‘older sister.’ Relief, happiness, loneliness. A voice trembling on the verge of tears, a genuine voice that couldn’t be uttered without a complex weave of many emotions and genuine affection. Understanding not logically but emotionally that this wasn’t a falsehood or act to continue the conversation, Hatano was at a loss for words.

So, that’s what it was. All those words she had been saying were to gauge what kind of person Hatano, this ‘pest approaching her sister,’ was. Looking back, from the moment they met, she had only been looking at him with measuring eyes.

Above all, she hadn’t said that Shinomiya was a bad person. Considering the many memories Shinomiya had shared, it made more sense that she was sizing up a third party for her sister’s sake rather than foul-mouthing her.

Hatano pulled his hand from his pocket and scratched the back of his head with a deeply dissatisfied expression.

“…You were testing me.”

“I couldn’t entrust my sister to someone who would just laugh it off—but I apologize for the rude behavior. She’s a dear child, and I was worried she might be deceived by some strange person. I’m sorry.”

Although he had started walking to leave, it would feel bad to just walk away now.

Accepting her apology, Hatano decided to sit back down one more time.

The patrons, who had been watching the proceedings, seemed to judge that things had settled and began to return to their conversations. Rokai glanced at the master, then looked back at the customers.

“My apologies for the disturbance. Tonight is on me, so please drink whatever you like, as much as you like.”

As Rokai announced this, voices of pleasant surprise, mixed with bewilderment, rose from various spots. The master shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Oh well,” but with the owner footing the bill, he couldn’t complain. “Now then,” Rokai said, regaining her composure, and looked at Hatano.

“I’ll permit you to get close to my sister, Hatano-san.”

“Why would I need your permission? You overactor.”

“I’m her sister. Blood relations are thicker, of course.”

Despite appearances, she must have been dissatisfied with his earlier words. She was challenging him with a sulky expression reminiscent of Shinomiya, but unfortunately, Hatano was currently closer in heart. Showing the composure of the victor with a “Yeah, yeah,” he saw Rokai’s composed expression crumble into one of envy for the first time.

However, she cleared her throat and returned to the topic.

“But… well, I’m relieved. I would have been satisfied just knowing no strange person was hanging around her, but it’s best of all that there’s someone who cares for her by her side. ‘From my perspective, she’s just a cheeky, precious kohai’—I couldn’t say that sober.”

Having his emotionally spat-out words repeated back calmly brought a delayed sense of embarrassment. Hatano glared at Rokai with an indescribably subtle expression.

“…You’re the type to hold a grudge, aren’t you?”

“‘Someone connected by blood,’ after all.”

“I won’t say I’m sorry. In reality, I’m the one closer to her.”