Chapter 31
When I arrived at the bar, the time was 5:02.
I was slightly, just a tiny bit late.
It wasn't because I played too many games. I left right on time, but I got caught in another damn Stop-and-Frisk.
I don't know why they're doing inspections so often these days. Did the DCPD stash honey in Asian Town or something?
It was already my fourth inspection in the past few days.
Every single time, I get caught in the detection net because of this air-purifying mask, and every single time, the exact same patrol officer checks my face and identity before letting me go.
I'm talking about the very same Patrol Officer I ran into at the Kabuki Building monorail platform on my first day of work.
I had hoped never to run into him again, and I actually thought I wouldn't... but funnily enough, seeing him so often now makes him feel more like a ticket inspector than a scary Patrol Officer.
An exceptionally picky Ticket Inspector.
He was so inflexible that even though he already recognized it was me just by seeing the mask, he stubbornly checked my identity again every single time.
He said something about regulations requiring an mandatory inspection for anyone covering their face.
Thanks to that, when I told him I should make it a habit from now on to take off my mask for a moment before entering the platform, he chuckled while pretending not to.
It seemed this kind of joke suited his tastes.
After exchanging a few words of greeting with the DCPD Patrol Officer, who had become familiar enough that I could throw out jokes without hesitation, I came straight here, yet I was still late.
Actually, if you think about it, the opening hours are at 6 o'clock, so I wasn't that late.
It was just an unspoken rule to arrive an hour early; it wasn't strictly mandated that I had to clock in by five.
However, I couldn't help but flinch at the cold gaze I felt the moment I opened the door with a jingle and stepped into the bar.
When I looked up, a woman wearing a suit vest was resting her chin on her hand and staring in my direction under the soft burgundy lighting.
It was Dragon's Lair's head bartender, Sey.
Before those transparent gray eyes, I unconsciously froze up like a mouse in front of a cat.
Being about two minutes late was something that could easily happen if an issue arose during the commute, yet my mind started racing with tens of thousands of excuses.
After racking my brain so hard, the words I barely managed to squeeze out were:
“...I don't see Mr. Tony today?”
Even I thought it sounded idiotic, but nothing else came to mind.
Usually, the person always waiting for me in that spot was Tony.
He would be slouched over, leaning against the table as if he didn't even know I had arrived, and only after I got close would he say, “Ah, you”re here.'
I had gotten used to Tony's lazy gaze that brushed everything off as no big deal, so standing in front of Sey, who was cold about everything, was hard to adjust to.
“Tony is in the boss room right now.”
At my question, Sey gestured toward the corridor with her chin and spoke.
Gyaaaaaaah—
With perfect timing, a terrible scream presumed to be Tony's rang out, followed by a hearty laugh presumed to be the Dragon President's.
“...Did Mr. Tony do something wrong? Are the two of them doing wrestling in there or something?”
I couldn't even begin to guess what kind of situation would produce such a desperate shriek.
When I asked in slight bewilderment, Sey calmly parted her red lips.
“No, a duel.”
...A duel?
The kind of duel I'm thinking of?
When I asked again to confirm, she nodded.
“Yeah. An Augmented Reality card game. Those two are completely obsessed with it lately. I guess they're trying to see who the better lucky person is. Looks like the Boss is winning right now.”
This workplace truly is thrilling and new every single day.
I had heard that the Augmented Reality trading card game was popular among enthusiasts, and that there were duelists who built a Cyberdeck to clash flashily in real life, but to think they would be my colleague and superior!
No, more importantly, why the hell would a duel produce a scream like that?
Even a life-or-death duel wouldn't sound that bad, let alone a card game.
Seeing me momentarily dumbfounded and unable to speak, Sey kindly added an explanation.
“They've been at it for thirty minutes. They said they were going to settle who the best duelist is once and for all today. They strictly warned me not to interrupt them under any circumstances.”
Just what on earth were they doing that a card game took thirty minutes?
Was it a Best-of-X Series? Anyone watching would think they were in a real tournament.
I shook my head and forced myself to speak.
“Then today... I guess you'll be teaching me, Ms. Sey. Since Mr. Tony went to duel with the President.”
Nod.
Her head tilted as if demanding something, her hair cascading down over her suit under the colorful electric lights.
By the time Sey's gaze swept up and down my body, I swallowed hard and spoke.
“I'll go put on my uniform then.”
What was the saying again... right.
Time to mix drinks and change lives.
More accurately, it is time to learn how to do that.
* * *
Clocking in an hour before the bar opened wasn't solely because I had to do the opening preparation.
Every day at this time, I learn about liquor and cocktails from the bartenders at Dragon's Lair.
Since cocktail mixing skill was also strictly a type of specialized skill, receiving one-on-one instruction from an expert was a considerable privilege in itself.
Even though I received my money from Headquarters, it was like getting paid a salary while also learning skills and knowledge.
Just the fact that they taught me these skills right away made Dragon's Lair a top 1% workplace comparable to anywhere else in Dusk City.
The Boss had bragged endlessly about how generous the employee welfare was, and it turned out he wasn't exaggerating.
That was also why I used honorifics when talking to the bartenders, like in my conversation with Sey just now, while they spoke to me casually.
As a student in the position of learning, I couldn't drop the formalities with the people teaching me... It was just an excuse,
It was simply more comfortable and familiar for me to use polite speech.
But we couldn't just keep awkwardly using honorifics with each other, and it was better to sort out our relationship and titles quickly.
So I took the initiative to position myself as the junior and student, asking them to speak comfortably to me.
Since both of them were older than me, it didn't feel out of place either.
The bartenders also seemed to accept it, likely recalling the eastern master-disciple relationship and the culture that highly values teaching.
Stereotypes really are quite useful to exploit.
For the record, I didn't shamelessly ask them to teach me cocktail making first.
When I asked Tony, who had stepped up to teach me first, he said it was the Boss's order.
He said there was a special directive to teach me quickly so I could pull my own weight. He smirked slyly, saying it worked out great for him since he got double bonuses every time he taught me.
Between that and his walking me to the Station every day after work, it felt like the Boss had such high expectations of me that it was almost terrifying.
Why is he investing so much in me?
Was it a mistake to boldly declare on my first day, “In a month, you”ll be dying to hire me as a full-time employee'?
It seemed he actually believed those words and was determined to raise me to be the shop's ace employee and bartender, which put a considerable amount of pressure on me.
I had no intention of being a salary thief, and I had planned to work hard anyway... but with things turning out like this, I felt like I had to work far harder than I anticipated, as if I needed to be ready to bury my bones here.
It had only been about five days since we met, so I had no idea what he saw in me to treat me this well.
I'd better not betray those expectations and properly live up to them.
Thinking I shouldn't take it easy and would need to build my skills as quickly as possible, I had been doing alcohol study through the Bar Manual whenever I had free time.
What I am doing right now is also a part of that learning process.
I adjusted the tie of my uniform and wiped a glass.
I took my position, standing inside the Front Tables where the bartenders were supposed to be.
As I was scanning the still-unfamiliar surrounding equipment, bottles filled with various liquids, and metal tools.
Sey opened her mouth while sitting in the customer seats in front of the table.
“I'll start if you're ready.”
A low, husky voice.
Even though I was in a position looking down from above, I felt an immense pressure from her upturned gaze staring back up at me.
Usually, the assistant bartender, Tony, was the one who guided me from that spot, but today my teacher had changed because he had vanished into the world of duels.
And it seemed this teacher was a highly practical type.
It was a test right from the start.
“Americano. Can you make it?”
My hands grew sweaty at the sudden question.
Americano.
It was a completely different drink from the watered-down espresso coffee one would typically think of upon hearing the name.
If I remembered correctly, this was also a type of classic cocktail.
The bitter, high-proof, and tasteless kind. The kind I couldn't understand why anyone would drink.
But after working here myself, I found there was a demand for these cocktails surprisingly.
There were pervert-like cocktail enthusiasts like our Boss who obsessed over finding the hidden flavors and aromas within that bitterness.
Because there were so many thugs, gangsters, and machos in this neighborhood, there were also a ridiculous number of poseurs who purposely ordered pretentious classics instead of sweet, feminine cocktails just to look manly.
Anyway, the bottom line was that to work at a bar, you had to be well-versed in classic cocktails too.
That was probably why Sey asked me if I could make an Americano.
Could I do it?
I searched through the list of recipes I had practically crammed into my head over the past few days.
I definitely memorized them in the order of the manual, so if it's Americano, it's 'A'.
It's right at the top. I remember. I definitely memorized it.
I could do it.
I had never made one myself, but the bartending method was in my head. I just had to follow it exactly.
When I nodded, Sey calmly placed her order.
“Two Americanos. Make them.”
Yes, as you command.