Ketto checked one row of shower stalls after another until only the final row remained. He had a feeling—almost like a whisper from fate—that Hanky was hiding in one of these. This row was far from the bench area, giving him more freedom to bend down and peer through the gaps without drawing attention.
He went stall by stall, using a mental elimination method. 'This guy's thighs are too hairy. This one's too thin. Too fat. Too chubby. This one's too pale. This one's too dark—way too dark.'One by one, he ruled them out.
Then he reached the last few stalls. When he peered beneath the curtain of one particular stall, his heart leaped. 'This is him. It has to be.'He studied the legs carefully. The thigh was just right—not too pale, not too dark, the perfect shade. Strong, athletic, not too skinny, not too thick. It looked exactly like someone who played sports. After searching for so long, Ketto felt a surge of triumph. He was sure. One hundred percent sure.
He straightened up and cleared his throat loudly twice. Inside the stall, the water stopped. The man had noticed someone outside, though he couldn't see who. He didn't say anything, just waited to figure out what was happening.
Ketto interpreted the silence as guilt. In his mind, Hanky was frozen with embarrassment, scrambling for an excuse to avoid being condemned. Ketto whispered under his breath, "Shameless." Then he coughed again, even louder than before.
Still, the man inside said nothing.
Ketto's patience ran out. He let out a cold, mocking laugh. "You don't dare show your face? I know you're in there. Don't pretend. I've figured everything out. I've been cleaning out there diligently and seriously while you're in here washing yourself? Are you even human?"
He paused for a second, then continued, his voice sharp. "I'll give you three seconds. You'd better come out and confess."
Inside the stall, the man was furious. He had no idea who this person outside was, what he was talking about, or why he was being harassed in the middle of his shower. Without a word, he yanked the curtain aside, ready to confront whoever was disturbing him.
Ketto stood there, arms crossed, a smug look on his face—certain that Hanky was about to be exposed.
Then he saw the man.
The smile vanished. His jaw dropped. His face went pale, then instantly flushed bright red.
Standing before him was not Hanky. It was a complete stranger—a man with a muscular, athletic build, clearly someone who worked out often. And he was completely naked.
The man glared at him, his voice low and dangerous. "What the hell are you doing?"
Ketto's mind went blank. His earlier confidence evaporated into pure panic. He stammered, lowering his head, "S-sorry. I thought you were—"
"Who?" the man demanded. "Are you crazy? You're ranting like a madman, saying all kinds of strange things."
Ketto couldn't bring himself to make eye contact. "I'm really sorry. I thought you were my classmate." His gaze darted away, anywhere but at the man's body. The awkwardness was unbearable. The man was muscular, his physique impressive, but Ketto felt deeply uncomfortable. He didn't want to look—especially not there.
His face was burning. His heart was pounding.
The man studied him for a moment. He could see that Ketto wasn't trying to be a creep—just an idiot who had made a mistake. His expression softened slightly. "What's your name?" he asked.
Ketto was so flustered he almost didn't hear the question. "What?"
"Your name," the man repeated.
"Ketto," he mumbled, bracing himself. 'He's going to remember my name. He's going to come after me. This is it—I'm done for.'Desperately, he added, "I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. Please don't hit me. I'm begging you."
The man let out a short laugh. "If you don't leave now, maybe I will."
Ketto nodded frantically and turned to flee.
As the man reached to pull the curtain closed again, he said casually, "My name is Jerry." Then he drew the curtain and went back to his shower.
But Ketto was already stumbling away, his mind a chaotic blur. He barely registered the name. 'What did he say? What was his name?'It didn't matter. As long as he never had to see this man again, he would consider himself lucky. No connection, no dispute, no further encounters. He hoped this would be the end of it.