Chapter Twenty Eight – More Than Just a Job

Hikari had never really celebrated paydays before.

She had part-time jobs in the past, but those were purely out of necessity—work, get paid, hand the money over to help at home. That was just how things went. No excitement. No satisfaction. Just another routine in her life.

But today?

Today was different.

She stared down at the payment envelope Elias had handed her at the end of her shift, her name neatly written on the front in his familiar, slightly slanted handwriting.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she opened it. She had already calculated how much she'd get—850 yen per hour, four hours a day, five days a week. She had done the math in her head a dozen times.

But the number on the slip inside was… higher.

She blinked. Then blinked again.

Hikari looked up, mouth slightly open, confusion written all over her face. "Sensei… is this a mistake?"

Elias, who had been casually wiping down the counter, didn't even look up. "Nope."

She frowned, glancing down again.

It wasn't a small mistake. It was a 150-yen-per-hour mistake.

"B-But—" she sputtered, holding out the slip like it would somehow explain itself. "I—this—why did you raise my pay?!"

Mira, lounging in one of the chairs nearby, cackled. "Oh man, you're adorable. Most people just say 'thank you' and run."

Hikari ignored her, staring at Elias in complete disbelief. "Seriously. Why?"

Elias exhaled through his nose, finally meeting her gaze. "Because you've earned it."

Hikari's heart skipped.

He said it so simply, like it was just a fact. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She wasn't sure what she had expected—maybe some kind of long-winded reasoning or a reluctant shrug—but this?

It hit her harder than she thought it would.

Hikari swallowed, gripping the envelope tighter. "But… I'm still learning. I still mess up sometimes. I—I don't deserve a raise yet—"

Elias cut her off with a sigh. "You care about this place."

Hikari blinked.

"That matters," Elias continued. "You don't just do your job and leave. You stay. You learn. You help. You want to be here."

His voice was calm, steady, but there was something else there too—something genuine.

Mira grinned, propping her chin on her palm. "I mean, I told him you're basically an icon now, so that probably helped."

Elias shot her a look.

Hikari opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn't sure what to say.

Because she did care. More than she realized.

The bakery had become more than just a workplace.

It had become a safe place.

A place where she didn't have to think about school, or home, or the stress of balancing everything. A place where she could just breathe.

And now… they saw her as part of it.

She felt an embarrassing sting in the corner of her eyes, so she quickly bowed her head. "Thank you," she mumbled, voice small. "Really. Thank you."

Elias gave a slow nod, as if that was the only response he needed.

Mira, meanwhile, had a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Sooo, now that you're making big money, what's the first thing you're gonna buy?"

Hikari hesitated.

She hadn't thought about that. Every yen she earned had always gone straight into helping her family—food, rent, bills. There was never room for herself in the equation.

But… maybe just once?

Just this one time?

She bit her lip, then glanced over at the display case.

"…A pack of Yuzu Honey Cookies."

Mira snorted. "You could've said literally anything and you chose to spend your hard-earned money back at your own workplace."

Hikari flushed. "They're really good, okay?!"

Elias just shook his head, amused.

Without another word, he reached into the case, pulled out a pack of cookies, and slid them across the counter.

"On the house," he said.

Hikari's eyes widened. "But—"

"Consider it a bonus," Elias added, before she could protest.

Hikari hesitated, then—slowly, carefully—picked up the bag. The warmth from the freshly baked cookies seeped into her hands.

It wasn't much.

But it meant everything.

-

Hikari stepped out of Moonlight Crumbs, the warmth of the bakery still clinging to her clothes. The small pack of Yuzu Honey Cookies was tucked safely into her bag, and her payment envelope rested against her palm.

She walked at a steady pace, her school bag slung over one shoulder, her mind racing with thoughts she didn't want to think about.

40,000 yen.

That was how much her mother had borrowed since she started working at the bakery.

It wasn't all at once. Just a little here, a little there. "Just until next week." "Just this one time." "I'll pay you back soon."

Except soon never seemed to come.

Hikari had never outright refused her before. She couldn't.

Because it was family.

Because her mother needed it.

Because if she didn't help, who would?

She exhaled, staring down at the envelope in her hand.

Today's pay was hers. She earned it.

And yet…

Her mother had asked again. Earlier this morning.

"Just 10,000 yen, Hikari. That's all I need right now. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Hikari could.

But did she want to?

The thought made her stomach twist.

She reached into her pocket, fingers brushing over the crisp bills.

No.

This time, she wouldn't hand over everything.

This time, she would keep some of it for herself.

She stopped at a small alleyway, just before reaching her apartment building. Pulling open her school blazer, she carefully tucked away half the money—folding the bills neatly and sliding them into the inner lining of one of her sweaters in her bag.

Her mother wouldn't look there.

She took a breath, hiding it away before she could change her mind.

The remaining amount—5,000 yen—she kept in her wallet.

That much, she could give. That much, she wouldn't feel too guilty about.

Because she still needed to help.

Because if she didn't help, who would?

Her hands clenched around the envelope.

She hated thinking like this.

She hated hesitating.

But money was the one thing that always slipped through her fingers.

And for once, she wanted to hold onto something for herself.

She exhaled sharply, stuffing the envelope into her bag and stepping forward.

Her apartment was just up ahead.

-

The apartment door creaked open, and Hikari stepped inside, bracing herself.

Her home wasn't large—just a cramped space with too many things shoved into too few corners. The faint smell of cigarettes and old fabric lingered in the air. The television was on, playing some variety show that no one was really watching.

Her mother sat at the small dining table, legs crossed, one hand drumming against the wood, the other gripping a half-empty can of beer. The moment she saw Hikari step in, her eyes sharpened.

"You're late," her mother said, voice clipped.

Hikari quietly took off her shoes. "I had work."

Her mother scoffed. "Right. That bakery job." She stretched out a hand, palm up. "You got paid today, didn't you?"

Hikari hesitated, gripping the strap of her bag. "I did."

Her mother's fingers twitched impatiently. "Then give it here. I need it."

I need it.

Hikari swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe slowly.

She had already decided.

She wouldn't give her everything.

With careful hands, she reached into her pocket and pulled out 5,000 yen.

Not the full amount. Just enough.

It should have been enough.

Hikari held it out, gaze lowered. "Here."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then her mother's expression twisted.

Her fingers didn't take the money. Instead, she slapped it away.

The bills fluttered to the floor.

Hikari flinched.

"What the hell is this?" her mother snapped.

Hikari's fingers curled into her sleeves. "It's all I can give right now…"

"You're hiding money from me?"

Hikari bit her lip, but didn't deny it.

Her mother's hands slammed against the table, making the beer can rattle. "You ungrateful brat."

Hikari's chest tightened. "I—"

"All this time, I've done everything for you," her mother spat. "And now you want to keep secrets from your own mother? After all I've done? Are you that selfish?"

Hikari's breath hitched.

Selfish.

That word cut deeper than it should have.

Her mother stood, suddenly towering over her, voice rising.

"Do you think you're better than me now? Just because you have a stupid little job at some bakery? Hah! That's nothing. You wouldn't survive without me!"

Hikari wanted to say something. She wanted to fight back.

But her body locked up.

Like it always did.

Like it had ever since she was a child.

Her mother took a step closer, fingers curling tightly around Hikari's wrist.

"You think this is a game? That you can just hold onto money like you earned it all by yourself?"

Her grip tightened.

Too tight.

It hurt.

Then—slap.

A sharp sting burned across Hikari's cheek.

Her head snapped to the side.

She didn't cry.

She wouldn't cry.

She had learned that a long time ago.

But her chest burned.

It ached.

She lowered her gaze, her breath uneven. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

It was the only thing she could say.

But her mother wasn't finished.

She kicked the crumpled yen bills aside, sneering. "Keep your damn money, then. See how far it gets you. Let's see how long you last without me."

Hikari's hands trembled. "I—"

"Get out of my sight."

Hikari turned and walked.

She didn't look back.

She stepped over the money.

She stepped past the suffocating walls.

She stepped out the door.

And when the night air hit her, cold against her burning skin—only then did the tears finally fall.