Chapter 172: The Face I Can’t Remember
Today was the first of February and supposed to be my first official day running the bar alone.
The start of a new chapter, the first time Gojo-san wouldn’t be standing behind the counter, grumbling about my salt measurements or pretending not to smile when a customer complimented the food.
But it was Monday — which meant the bar was closed.
So instead of cooking ramen, I was meeting Junpei. He said he’d gotten more information about Riku… or rather, Reina. The person who somehow ended up living in my body.
Keiko couldn’t come today. She had a report to handle with Manna-san, so I was on my own.
I sighed as I stepped into the small café, the faint jazz music filling the air, the smell of roasted beans clinging to everything.
“Yo, Junpei bro!” I called, waving as I spotted him near the window.
He grinned, waving back before slumping into the seat across from me. “Yo, man! Doing good?”
“Yeah. Order first,” I said, sliding the menu toward him. “You skipped out yesterday, old man’s party was wild.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Sorry, couldn’t make it. Ruka and the baby needed me.”
I chuckled. “No worries. We already had three chaotic kids there anyway — Aki, Miko, and Suzuka. That was enough to turn the bar upside down.”
Junpei laughed. “Too bad, I would’ve paid good money to see Aki bickering with you again.”
“Wow. That’s what you wanted?” I said dryly.
He raised his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I live for chaos, man.”
I shook my head, smirking. “You need better hobbies.”
The waiter came to take our order — two iced coffees and some sandwiches — before Junpei’s tone shifted. His grin faded a little as he leaned in.
“Alright. To the point.” He pulled a small, slightly wrinkled photo from his pocket and slid it across the table. “Here. Reina and that’s her grandmother.”
My hand froze halfway to the photo.
Slowly, I picked it up.
A girl — twenty-something, mid long hair, bright eyes that looked both alive and empty at the same time. And beside her, a frail-looking old woman with soft wrinkles and tired eyes.
She looked exactly like Ryuko — my body right now. The resemblance was uncanny, almost haunting. It gave me chills just staring at the photo, like I was looking at a mirror from another timeline.
“My contact printed this out for me,” Junpei said. “You can keep it.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, staring at it longer than I should have.
Junpei leaned closer to take another look, his brows furrowing. “What the hell…” he muttered under his breath. “She really does look like you— I mean, Ryuko. That’s… weird, man.”
He scratched the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. “I don’t know why, but seeing her face just gives me this uneasy feeling. Like something’s off about it.”
I was focus on something else though. Something about the old woman made my stomach twist. She looked… familiar. Not like I’d met her, but like I’d seen her. Somewhere.
Junpei noticed my silence. “What’s wrong? You know her?”
I shook my head slowly. “No… I don’t think so. But… I’ve seen her face before. I just can’t remember where.”
Junpei frowned. “Like, in person? Or on TV or something?”
I pressed my fingers against my temple, trying to think. The old woman’s face blurred and shifted in my head, flashing in and out like a broken screen. My chest felt tight, like I was about to remember something important but couldn’t quite reach it.
Then I realized — I was sweating.
“Bro,” Junpei said softly, frowning. “Take it easy. You’re sweating like crazy.”
“Huh?” I wiped my forehead and blinked. “What the—”
He sighed and leaned back. “Hey, calm down. It’s fine. Maybe it’s nothing. You’re probably overthinking it.”
I nodded slowly, still gripping the photo. “Yeah… maybe.”
“Could just be a coincidence,” he added. “She looks like your typical sweet old grandma, right? There’s a lot of them around.”
But my gut told me otherwise. There was something off about this.
I forced a weak laugh. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I’ll show this to Keiko later. Maybe she’ll remember something.”
“Good idea,” Junpei said. “But seriously, don’t push yourself too hard. You’ve been through enough weird crap already.”
I chuckled dryly. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
The waiter came, placing our drinks on the table. The small clink of the glass seemed to pull us both back to reality.
Junpei took a sip, then looked at me again. “By the way, why didn’t Keiko come again?”
“She’s got work. Report for Manna-san,” I replied. “You know how serious she gets when it comes to business.”
He nodded. “Right. Can’t argue with that.”
For a moment, the mood lightened again — until he said quietly, “Ryusei, you better be careful too.”
I glanced up. “What do you mean?”
He lowered his voice. “My guy told me Riku’s aware someone’s been digging into her life. She might’ve caught on that it’s you.”
I clenched my jaw. “I was reckless that night. I shouldn’t have followed her.”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Junpei muttered. “That girl’s background is no joke. You don’t want to end up on her bad side.”
I stared into my coffee. The reflection staring back wasn’t mine — at least not the one I used to know.
After a moment, I asked quietly, “Junpei… why do you think she switched bodies with me?”
He sighed. “Honestly? No clue. But from what I’ve heard about her — troubled past, unstable family, some messed-up rumors — it sounds like she wasn’t happy with her life. Maybe she just wanted to escape.”
“Escape, huh?” I repeated, voice low.
“It’s not so different from you, if you think about it,” Junpei said, leaning back. “You were stuck too. Different reasons, but still — two people who didn’t like their lives. Maybe fate just… flipped the coin.”
I snorted. “So you’re saying this is karma?”
He smirked. “Hey, maybe the universe just thought you two needed a switch.”
I chuckled, but it didn’t last long. “Still… I want my life back, Junpei. I told Keiko and Rin already. I want to face the world as me. Not someone else’s shadow.”
Junpei gave me a look halfway between amusement and sympathy. “You greedy bastard. Always wanting more.”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling faintly. “Guess I am.”
He sighed, setting his cup down. “Alright, so what’s the plan now? You gonna try confronting her again?”
“I have to,” I said firmly. “Now that I know her name, her background, and even her face — I need to know why. Why she did it. How she did it.”
Junpei stared at me for a moment before shaking his head. “You really haven’t learned, have you?”
“What?”
“You think she’ll just sit down and tell you everything over coffee?”
I frowned. “…Maybe not.”
“Ryusei,” he said, serious now. “You’re walking into something you don’t understand. People like her — they don’t play fair. If she’s capable of switching lives with someone, she’s capable of worse.”
“I can’t just ignore it.”
“I’m not saying ignore it,” Junpei replied, lowering his voice. “I’m saying be smart. Don’t confront her head-on. Watch her. Learn from a distance. If she knows you’re snooping, she might act first.”
I stared at him. “You mean… spy on her?”
He shrugged. “Call it what you want. Information’s the only weapon you’ve got right now. Use it.”
I leaned back in my chair, sighing. “So basically… stay quiet.”
“Exactly. Let her think you’ve stopped. Meanwhile, you find out more. Maybe start with her grandmother. Old folks remember things. They talk.”
That idea stuck in my head. The grandmother… that face that felt so familiar.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “You might be right.”
Junpei nodded. “I usually am.”
“Don’t push it,” I said, smirking faintly.
He chuckled. “Alright, man. Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”
“No promises,” I said, grinning despite the unease building in my chest.
We finished our drinks in silence, the café’s soft music filling the space between us. Outside, the winter air looked colder than usual — maybe because of what we’d just talked about.
As we stood and prepared to leave, Junpei clapped my shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, bro. You always do.”
“Thanks, man.”
We parted ways at the corner.
I slipped the photo into my jacket pocket, my fingers brushing against the edge of the paper.
The girl. The grandmother.
That face.
Even as I walked home, the image wouldn’t leave my mind.
And somewhere deep down, I knew — I’d seen her before.