Chapter 33
Does this mean the Dragon President's eye for hiring me was spot on?
Or does it mean that his decision to hire me was just another one of his regular, clumsy mistakes—like forgetting the Broadcast Waveform Reception Fee Payment, or ordering boxes of Loofah Cake just because he was curious about the taste and dumping them in the bar?
Given the context of the conversation, it seemed to be the former, but her tone was so stiff and cold that it made me tilt my head.
I guarantee it, if that was a compliment, Sey must be the worst person in the world at giving compliments. Her praise could make even a dancing whale lose its spirit.
Oh, for the record, it wasn't some high-end cake shaped like a loofah.
Literally, it was a cake made from the Cultured Plants loofah, the very origin of the namesake kitchen sponge used for washing dishes.
Who on earth, how, and with what kind of idea did they make such a thing?
And I have no idea how the Dragon President managed to miraculously find out about it and get his hands on it, but one thing was certain: not only did it lack an appetizing appearance, but it also didn't taste very pleasant when eaten.
The chewy texture unique to its fibers was almost like... eating bread made out of cardboard.
Even the buyer, Mr. Sasha Dragon, took a few bites before quietly spitting it into the Food Waste Disposer and apologizing to everyone.
Saying that this time was definitely his mistake.
Because he just had to buy it in bulk, there were still four whole boxes left in the Warehouse, making it very difficult to get rid of.
We were asking the customers if they wanted to try it as a complimentary service, but since they were all humans with a certain level of intelligence, they didn't fall for it easily.
Watching that mess unfold made me doubt whether the Dragon President, who had boldly ordered five boxes of Loofah Cake just four days ago, had any intelligence at all, or if his intelligence was truly at the level of a reptile...
As I continued this Stream of Consciousness, I suddenly felt a gaze staring intently in my direction and snapped back to reality.
Sey was looking at me with her signature scary eyes.
I rolled my eyes, wondering what she meant, and she expressionlessly pointed a finger at the glass sitting alone on the table.
"If you knew ordering two glasses meant you were supposed to drink, you should have taken your own glass back."
Right. I had talked a big game, but I had just left my glass sitting there on the table.
I pulled the glass toward me, struggling to hide the blush rising to my face from embarrassment.
"Well then."
Sey immediately swallowed her share of the cocktail.
The reddish-brown drink visibly flowed past her red lips and down her pale neck.
What kind of evaluation would come out of that mouth? With a trembling heart, I tilted my glass along with her.
The first impression I had was a subtle lemon scent, and a strange herbal scent.
A bitter medicinal taste wrapped around my tongue. The flavor, like chewing on fruit peels, licorice, or tree roots, made me frown for a moment.
And then there was a strange sweetness in the aftertaste, followed by an unusually refreshing finish.
It was a bit bizarre, but... maybe because I put in a lot of carbonated water, it was definitely drinkable.
That didn't mean it was outright delicious like the Dusk Iced Tea I drank last time.
It was just smooth enough to swallow without issue, like drinking ordinary soju or beer. I figured this was what drinking Western herbal liquor would taste like.
Even after taking a few more sips, my impression didn't change much.
At best, I just got somewhat used to the taste, allowing me to feel the subtle lemon scent or faint sweetness a bit better.
Since I had never drunk it before, I was confused because I couldn't tell if I had made it properly or not. Was this really the result intended by the recipe?
There was only one person who could judge that.
I swallowed the alcohol scent rising from my mouth and watched Sey, who continued to drink her cocktail in silence.
As if noticing my gaze, Sey lifted her glass, which was already nearly a third empty, and spoke.
"It's not bad."
Saying that, she tilted her glass again.
Just as I was panicking, wondering if that was really the end of it, she continued speaking with an exhaled breath, *Haa—*.
"I'm drinking a lot because it's drinkable. If it were bad, I would have stopped after a few sips. It's not without its flaws, but that's only when setting the standard at a professional bartender level. It has all the basic elements an Americano should have."
Wow...
I was surprised because it was a better review than I expected, but more than anything, I was surprised that she spoke so much.
It seemed to be the longest thing Sey had said so far, at least out of what I had heard.
She was just that quiet a person. It was almost fascinating how she always spoke in short answers, whether she was on duty or not.
They say anyone becomes talkative when discussing something he or she is interested in and that he or she likes, and, as is true of a bartender, her mouth seemed to liven up when talking about alcohol.
As the relief from the unexpected praise showed on my face, Sey paused for a moment and set her glass down.
"...Don't get too happy, though. It's also true that it's still lacking. The texture is a bit disappointing, and the vermouth flavor is somewhat muted. I don't know about me or Tony, but the Boss is picky about this sort of thing, so he'll probably be dissatisfied."
I didn't really understand what she meant, but I understood enough to know it was still lacking, meaning this wouldn't be enough to satisfy Sasha Dragon.
Then again, as could be seen from how he described Tony last time as a mediocre bartender at everything except the Stir, it did seem like the Dragon President had very stubborn beliefs or standards when it came to cocktails.
So, how should I reply?
Should I say I'll work harder from now on?
It was ambiguous how I should react.
On one hand, I felt it was only natural to be at an unsatisfactory level since I had only started learning a few days ago, but considering the heavy expectations and investment the Dragon President seemed to be placing in me, I also wondered if I needed to do better than this...
Compared to others, was I a fast learner or a slow one?
Since I didn't know where my current skills stood given the timeframe, I had nothing to say.
"..."
Silence fell. Sey didn't seem to care that I hadn't given much of an answer, and I only nodded my head.
She just picked up her glass again and sipped her Americano.
...As I saw her continue to drink like that, it seemed I hadn't made the cocktail too badly after all.
Unable to just stand there doing nothing, I only moved my glass.
Maybe because it was a drink I mixed myself, I kept gulping it down. As I drank, it had a bittersweet addictiveness to it.
After tilting our glasses in suffocating silence for five minutes like that...
I opened my mouth, thinking I had to say something to break this awkwardness.
"Ah, come to think of it. How did you know I've never worked in a bar, or that I don't like alcohol, and that it was my first time making an Americano?"
I definitely hadn't told Sey.
Sey answered my question briefly.
"The Boss told me your background. And I heard from Tony about what cocktails you've tried making."
That one sentence ended the explanation.
Well, that was a pretty stupid question.
Of course the Dragon President would have talked about it. I had spoken so passionately on my first day, doing my Self-PR...
There was no way our loose-lipped and chatty Mr. Sasha Dragon would have kept it from the others.
Since I had gained information about the bartenders by talking with Dragon, it wasn't strange at all for him to spread stories about me to the bartenders in return.
The same went for what I had learned from Tony. Tony wasn't exactly the tight-lipped type either.
"I see."
I nodded as I replied.
And, well... I had nothing to say.
It became quiet once again.
My lips felt completely dry, so I just kept drinking the cocktail.
Was it my fault for trying to start a conversation with such a random topic?
There was no material left to keep the conversation going.
What on earth should I talk about?
Why was I even worrying about this in the first place...
Perhaps because of the alcohol, my head started to ache slightly.
Even though Tony clearly showed signs of finding it annoying, he still talked about this and that quite a bit, maybe to get his bonus.
On the other hand, talking with Sey felt like standing in front of an ice-covered fortress wall.
The more I spoke, the more suffocated I felt.
Weren't bartenders supposed to mix conversations with customers frequently, not just mix cocktails?
From what I had glimpsed during work, she didn't seem to talk that much to the customers either.
And yet, customer satisfaction was always the highest when Sey took the table.
It was a mystery how that worked. Did she have some kind of secret?
From what I was experiencing at that moment, her style was definitely not one that could yield high satisfaction.
It was endlessly mysterious in many ways.
Sey, the Dragon's Lair Head Bartender, was that kind of presence.
She was difficult to approach due to her unique way of speaking, her gaze, and that strange aura, and she left you speechless whenever you tried to converse.
To sum it up in one word, I don't think we're a good match.
She's completely not my style.
* * *
...But in life, there are times when you have to somehow make things work even with people you don't mesh with.
Since I was in the bartender's seat anyway, I adopted a study mindset, pretending I had met a difficult customer, and squeezed out words with all my might.
Since I was doing this to learn about cocktails, the topic of alcohol came up frequently, and Sey, true to being a bartender, seemed to open her mouth quite often when it came to that subject.
It was still hard to keep the conversation going, and the topics that popped up—like the history, classification, and manufacturing processes of various liquors—seemed incredibly boring.
Still, wasn't it something that the flow of conversation, which had been stuttering and cutting off like constipation, had finally opened up to some extent?
As we talked like that, Sey's glass emptied, so I made another Practice Cocktail, had it evaluated... and before I knew it, the Opening Hours were approaching.
And finally, the saviors who would liberate me from this Hell appeared.
The Dragon President was walking toward us with the confident stride of a Triumphant General, and Tony was drooping in the shadows, muttering a bunch of incomprehensible profanities.
The Duelists, who had been waging a fierce battle in the boss room while screaming all sorts of inhuman shrieks, had finally returned.