Chapter 146: The Farewell Letter
Today marked a week since the old man gave me his official approval. He had even told me more details about his retirement plan—it was set for February next year.
Honestly, hearing him talk about stepping down felt strange. The man was like an immovable object, like a stubborn oak tree in the middle of a storm. To imagine him retiring… well, I could almost hear the regular customers forming protest unions and demanding refunds for their lost routine.
But still, it made me realize my path was changing too.
After much thinking, I decided it was time to talk with Manna-san. I owed her honesty, and besides, I couldn’t keep dragging my feet forever. Today, I gathered the courage and asked for her time.
“Ryuko, what do you want to talk about now?” Manna asked, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.
Her gaze was sharp as always, like she was about to interrogate me for smuggling sugar packets.
I swallowed nervously. “I… I will resign from Manna’s Kitchen on January, after Ruka’s comeback.”
Manna blinked. “Oh. You got another job?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Well… yeah…”
To my surprise, Manna’s expression softened. She smiled—actually smiled. “Great then. I was worried if something happened and you didn’t have another job yet.”
I blinked at her kindness. I had braced myself for a lecture or at least a sarcastic jab like, ‘Well, finally someone noticed you don’t know how to cut onions properly.’ But no, Manna-san was being… supportive.
“Thanks… I wanted to say thank you, Manna-san, for letting me join Manna’s Kitchen,” I said, bowing deeply.
She nodded warmly. “You’re welcome. Thanks for being part of us too.”
Then, as casually as if she were telling me to clean the fryer, she added, “Tell Keiko after this, and give your resignation letter to her. Good luck on your next journey, Ryuko.”
She left with that smile, while I sat there frozen like a half-cooked gyoza.
“…That went way too smoothly.”
I had imagined her throwing a frying pan at me, or at least sighing dramatically and muttering about how young people these days don’t stick to jobs. Instead, she wished me good luck? My heart wasn’t prepared for kindness—it felt suspicious, like eating free food samples that were too generous.
I exhaled a long breath, trying to calm myself. And just as I was bracing for the real test, Keiko entered the room.
---
Keiko stepped in right after Manna left, carrying that calm, professional aura of hers. She sat down across from me, her posture upright, her eyes serious. For some reason, the air turned heavier, like the final boss music had started playing in the background.
“Ryuko…” she said softly, folding her hands.
It was awkward. Way too awkward. She looked like she was trying to hold back something.
And then…
“Pfft—”
I blinked at her. “…What?”
Keiko quickly covered her mouth, trying to look professional, but her shoulders shook. “S-sorry… I don’t know why… but now it feels so awkward!” She burst into giggles.
I stared, half-confused and half-relieved. “You—wait—why are you laughing? I’m the one resigning here! You’re supposed to glare at me until I sweat!”
She chuckled harder, leaning back. “It just… it brings back memories. Like when you first came for your interview here.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, the same atmosphere, huh?”
She nodded, eyes twinkling. Then she squinted dramatically, pointing a finger at me. “But who would’ve guessed? That little girl I hired back then… turned out to be my husband!”
I laughed, covering my face. “Sorry… for lying to you at first.”
Keiko waved it off with a smile. “That’s the past already. Honestly, now I just think of it as a crazy, funny episode in our story.”
Her chuckle was warm, and I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed. “Thank you, Keiko…”
With that, I slid the resignation letter across the table. No big speech, no dramatic pauses. Just a simple paper that carried a heavy meaning.
And just like that… the conversation was over. Smooth, professional, but also strangely nostalgic.
But of course, we couldn’t leave it at that. Because if you know us, you know comedy always finds its way in.
---
Later that night, we were back at home, sitting together on the couch. Keiko was sipping tea, I was chewing on some snacks. Silence lingered for a moment, until I suddenly blurted out:
“You know… resigning today felt like confessing to a crush.”
Keiko raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You were that nervous?”
“Of course! My palms were sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy—”
“Stop quoting Eminem.”
“—and my brain kept thinking, ‘What if she says no? What if she throws me out with the trash? What if she says I was a terrible employee and she only hired me because she pitied me?’”
Keiko sipped her tea calmly. “Ryusei, I did pity you at first.”
“…” I turned to her, eyes wide. “…Wait. Seriously?!”
She smirked. “You looked so hopeless back then. Like a lost puppy."
I dropped my snack dramatically. “T-That’s… that’s cruel! And here I thought you saw potential in me!”
“Oh, I did,” she teased, “potential to make mistakes.”
I groaned, covering my face.
Then we both laughed, the heaviness of the day dissolving into warmth.
---
Lying in bed later that night, I couldn’t help thinking.
So that’s it. I’ve handed in my resignation. Another chapter closed.
But then my brain—traitor that it is—decided to replay the conversation.
‘Who knew that little girl was my husband?’
Really, Keiko? Did she have to phrase it like that? Now I can’t stop imagining a soap opera trailer:
> “This spring, witness the shocking twist—when the girl you hire… becomes the man you marry!”
I buried my face in the pillow.
And Manna-san too—why was she so nice? Where was the frying pan of doom? Where was the sarcastic, ‘Don’t come crying to me when your new job makes you scrub toilets’? Instead, she smiled and wished me luck. Suspicious. Extremely suspicious.
What if… what if she’s planning something? Like, ‘Sure, good luck, Ryuko… enjoy your new job. Because next week, I’m sending you a bill for all the broken plates you caused over the months!’
I sighed. Being paranoid over kindness—yep, that’s me.
Still, as much as I tried to joke, deep down, I was grateful. Grateful for Manna’s support. Grateful for Keiko’s laughter. And grateful that even in moments like these, we could turn a heavy goodbye into something warm and funny.