The widowed landlady, soaked to the bone from the rain, smiled sweetly at me, saying, "You can look, okay?" when she saw my see-through shirt, which had almost driven me mad. (Kana Morisawa, KSBJ-423)

My widowed landlady, who had lost her husband, always seemed to care about me, a university student. She even prepared homemade meals for me when I was too busy to eat properly, and I found myself gradually drawn to her. One rainy night, the landlady, soaked to the bone, came to my room for shelter. Seeing her bare skin through her shirt, I told myself, "I can't look," but she softly said, "You can look, okay?" That became the catalyst; the distance between us slowly, and undeniably, approached zero.