I, who lives in agony every day as a single Lehman, spent my days humiliating Mr. Kurokawa's wife, who lives in the next room, in my brain as a daily slur. - This morning, too, when I take out the garbage in the morning, I glance at Mrs. Kurokawa's peach buttocks, which have a faint line of underwear through from the defenseless roomwear-flavored serving, so as not to get caught. - She seems to be completely unaware of my obscene gaze, and the peach-ass married woman smiles gently at me endlessly.