Chapter 22 – Winter (Part 7)
Winter, Part 7
Novel Title: ツァイガルニクの恋の沼 (Zeigarnik’s Love Swamp)
Author：月村奎著 (Tsukimura Kei)
Illustrator：志水ゆき (Shimizu Yuki)
Translator: K (@kin0monogatari)
Protagonists: 市川春音 (Ichikawa Harune -MC) & 二ノ宮航輝 (Ninomiya Kouki -ML)
*Please read at novels.space, the original site of translation. TQ*
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“Get out.”
“Harune—”
“I get it, you hate me. Well, guess what, I hate you too.”
History repeats itself. Here they were, cutting ties for the second time. And this time, there probably wouldn’t be any reconciliation like before. Harune was sure of it. If they reconciled, he would just end up getting hurt again. He didn’t want to feel this tangled mess of emotions ever again.
Harune grabbed Kouki by the arm and started pulling him towards the back door.
“Get out. And don’t ever come back!”
Though Kouki was pulled for a moment, he quickly shook off Harune’s hand and instead leaned on Harune’s shoulder.
What the hell, is he trying to fight me? Harune’s switch flipped. He recklessly raised his fist, but Kouki quickly grabbed his hand and, using force, slammed Harune against the wall.
The old house shook from the impact.
There was no way Harune could win in a physical contest with Kouki. But maybe because of the adrenaline, he didn’t feel afraid. He was ready to kick Kouki in the crotch or headbutt him, waiting for his chance to strike.
Kouki, too, seemed fired up, his angry expression drawing closer.
Their faces were close enough that he thought he could headbutt Kouki and win. He tilted his chin back, preparing to strike with the momentum, but Kouki moved faster.
In the instant that Harune tilted his head up to gather momentum, Kouki’s breath brushed against his cheek, and their lips met.
“……!?”
For a moment, Harune couldn’t understand what was happening.
What? This isn’t a headbutt? What is this?
Surprised, Harune’s eyes widened, but his vision was too close to focus, and his thoughts froze.
When Kouki adjusted the angle of his lips, the wet sound echoed through the quiet hallway, and Harune realised he was being kissed.
“Mmmph!”
As he tried to resist, Kouki pressed him even harder against the wall, deepening the kiss.
Harune’s thoughts scattered, and he couldn’t comprehend the situation. All the nerves in his body concentrated on his lips, following the movement of Kouki’s tongue.
When Kouki gently grazed the inside of his upper lip, an electric shock ran from Harune’s lower back up his spine, making him feel as if he was floating.
After a few paralyzed seconds, Harune forcefully pushed Kouki’s body away.
His lips were tingling, his head was a mess, and he couldn’t make sense of anything.
“…What are you…?”
Harune’s voice wavered as he shot a protesting glance at Kouki, who stared back at him as if trying to convey something.
“If anyone will do, then it doesn’t matter if it’s me, right?”
That remark snapped Harune’s mind back into clarity, and the argument from earlier flashed back.
What’s that supposed to mean? Is he still not done mocking me?
First, he calls me a slut who’ll get with anyone, and now he’s pulling a stunt like this out of spite?
What did I do to make him hate me this much?
Harune searched his memory but couldn’t think of anything that would warrant such a grudge. It had always been Kouki who started things and got involved; Harune hadn’t initiated anything at all.
He gently touched his still-tingling lips.
His first-ever kiss was a form of harassment from someone he liked. It was the worst feeling imaginable.
Thinking that, frustration and anger welled up inside him, making his eyes throb with pain.
Through his tear-blurred vision, he saw Kouki’s eyes widen in surprise.
Still wearing a shocked expression, Kouki reached out toward Harune’s face.
“…Sorry.”
He wiped Harune’s face with the pad of his thumb, and Harune realised that he was crying.
Embarrassed. Infuriated.
Harune slapped Kouki’s hand away.
“Just go home already!” Harune yelled with a volume that even surprised him.
Kouki stood there silently for a few seconds but eventually turned on his heel and left through the back door.
Harune let out a deep breath and collapsed into a crouch on the spot. His lips, kissed just moments ago, tingled, and his head throbbed with anger. He ruffled his hair, shouting loudly, “Arghhhhh!”
“Damn it,” he muttered a curse he rarely used, standing up to return to the living room, when he noticed a package left in the hallway.
Inside the eco-bag was an enamel container holding the stew Kouki had left behind.
Harune picked up the heavy package and impulsively moved to throw it in the trash but stopped himself at the last second.
“…I have to separate the trash properly.”
Half impressed with himself for being responsible even in a moment like this, and half exasperated, Harune sniffled as he carried the container to the kitchen.
He opened the lid, but then hesitated again.
Throwing it away without eating felt like admitting defeat, a strange sense of stubbornness rising within him.
I’ll eat it like it’s no big deal.
Harune emptied the contents of the container into a pot, turned on the stove, and watched as the stew began to boil furiously like something out of hell.
He carried the entire pot to the kotatsu table and dug in with a spoon.
“Hot!” Harune took a bite and immediately dropped the spoon. The thick stew was probably hotter than boiling water, and in an instant, he had burned his lips.
“…Might as well call it lucky,” Harune muttered to himself.
If the pain from the burn could overwrite the sensation of that kiss, it might not be so bad.
Still seething with anger and frustration toward the worst possible first love, Harune stuffed the stew into his mouth in a fit of desperation.
The fact that it tasted good only made him angrier.
Whether it was because he’d overboiled it when reheating, or because he was swallowing down his tears along with the stew, it tasted just a little saltier than usual.
***
Mid-December mornings were still dim even at six o’clock.
Harune buried his face in the thick scarf wrapped around his neck and walked briskly, looking down. The frost-covered ground, frozen during the coldest time of day, was too firm to give that satisfying crunch underfoot.
As he cut through the barren, wintry grove, he saw Kouki’s house in the distance and stopped to take a breath. His breath, visible in the frosty air, turned white beyond the scarf.
Just thinking about what had happened two days ago made his insides boil. Yesterday, too, his mind had been fogged up all day, unable to concentrate on work.
He never wanted to see Kouki’s face again, but here he was, walking to his house—because Kouki had forgotten his shoes.
Technically, it was Harune’s fault for chasing him out through the back door. Kouki, who had come in from the shop entrance, ended up leaving without his shoes.
The next morning, when Harune noticed Kouki’s shoes, he’d felt a bit vindictive, thinking, “Serves him right” for having to walk the few dozen steps to his car in just his socks. But soon enough, he was conflicted about what to do with the shoes.
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*Translator’s Note: By now, I think, only us readers could guess Kouki’s feelings for Harune lol. -K
Illustration 1 (on the first page of the novel):
“…What are you…?”
Harune’s voice wavered as he shot a protesting glance at Kouki, who stared back at him as if trying to convey something.
“If anyone will do, then it doesn’t matter if it’s me, right?”
Illustration 7:
Next update: 2026.06.28
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