To Your Right, You Will See My Boyfriend

For Nobuki, guiding tourists through crowded streets and monotonous landmarks is less a career choice and more a reluctant obligation—a daily grind stripped of any genuine passion or satisfaction. Each scripted spiel and manufactured smile chips away at him, turning every shift into a quiet exercise in endurance. Yet the tedium of his thankless routine is only half his burden; the other half occupies the driver's seat in the form of a perpetually disheveled bus driver whose careless presence seems expressly designed to test Nobuki's already frayed patience. Why circumstance has yoked him to such a slovenly partner, Nobuki cannot fathom. While he struggles to project an image of competence and composure, his counterpart appears to have abandoned every last pretension of neatness—rumpled clothing, unkempt hair, and a general disregard for personal presentation that grates against Nobuki's every instinct. The stark contrast between his simmering, internalized frustration and the driver's outwardly unbothered demeanor creates an uneasy tension within the cramped quarters of the tour bus. As they ply their daily routes, Nobuki is left questioning whether his professional misery stems from mere bad luck or if something more complicated underlies their forced cohabitation on the road.