The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

decorated in unusual patterns. The tastes of the
occupant demanded the newest wares.
The rent was twelve thousand five hundred yen a
month, and two hundred fifty yen besides went each
month into a common maintenance fund. Tōru
thanked the superintendent for the half of the rent paid
by the company.
“But aren’t you lonely, all by yourself?”
“I’m used to being alone. I’m alone at the station
too.”
“That’s true, of course.”
The superintendent took a bottle of Suntory Square
from his bag, and side dishes as well, shredded
cuttlefish and prawn crackers. If Tōru had no glasses,
he said, cups would do as well.
Something unusual was afoot. It was not the
superintendent’s practice to come calling upon
subordinates thus provisioned. The visit could mean
no good. Since Tōru had nothing to do with the
accounts, it was not likely that he was about to be
charged with fiscal venalities; but he must have made
a grievous blunder without himself being aware of it.
And here was the superintendent pressing liquor upon
the boy he had scolded for his addiction to tobacco.
Tōru was reconciled to dismissal; but he knew well
enough that, even without a labor union, it was a world