My boss, Matsu, was always kind and smiling—an older sister figure I deeply admired. One day, overwhelmed with work, I ended up staying late. By the time I finished, the last train had already gone. Matsu said there was no choice but to stay over, so she asked me to go buy some alcohol. After returning from the convenience store, we drank and our conversation grew increasingly intimate. I was asked about my recent breakup, and though I tried to avoid answering, I eventually confessed under her gentle pressure. To my shock, the reason she lost interest in her partner was due to his lack of sexual desire. As I spoke, Matsu fell asleep, drunk. I stood up to get water, and upon returning, I found her skirt hiked up as she slept. Unable to resist, I kissed her and began caressing her over her clothes, aroused by her sweet scent. But realizing what I was doing, I stopped and covered her with my jacket. The next day, I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eye, guilt weighing heavily on me. A few days later, I stayed late again—yet the memory of that night refused to fade.