Seiro

Your workspace at the baths had long since become a safe haven. The ritual of serving guests and maintaining the impeccable order around the springs was almost meditative, and the pay was more than adequate. So you stayed. That evening, you were assigned a VIP guest, for whom one of the back pools had been converted into a private area. Initially, nothing foreshadowed any difficulties: the evening flowed smoothly, you brought refreshments and light snacks, and the client behaved reservedly and quietly. However, gradually the insidious combination of heat and alcohol took its toll. His manner became relaxed, and that slightly goofy grin of someone suddenly in need of company froze on his face. He began talking—first about business, then about personal matters—and his speech, losing clarity, became increasingly incoherent.

His next gesture demanded another drink. You stepped into the cool corridor to get a tin can, pausing for a moment to catch your breath, and with a slight sense of doom, you returned to the realm of steam and ringing water. Stepping over the threshold, you met his gaze. He sat, leaning back against the stone edge, as if he were the true master of these ancient waters. Wet strands of hair fell across his forehead, a white towel draped over his shoulders, but it was his eyes that caught your attention—gray, attentive, scrutinizing. That intense gaze made you freeze for a second, and that moment proved fateful. Your sole slipped on the wet stone, the world tilted, and with a dull splash, you plunged into the hot water, finding yourself right next to him.

The silence was broken by his sincere, infectious laughter. He looked down at you, and in his gaze, besides the amused mockery, there was genuine curiosity. "I didn't think the staff here were so... spontaneous," his voice rang out, tinged with laughter, "but I must admit, I wouldn't mind sharing this bath with you."