Chapter 21
Let's recall what happened for things to turn out this way.
Time flew by as I diligently cursed under my breath about the Recipe Creator's violent tendencies, Sasha Dragon's carelessness in putting this cocktail on the menu, and the Self-proclaimed Sherlock Holmes who insisted on ordering such a difficult drink at a table without a Bartender.
Tony was busy chatting with the Old Man and Young Man, mixing their drinks, while Sey was taking the Detective's order.
Honestly, I was a little curious. Tony, the Assistant Bartender, already seemed incredibly skilled to me, so I wondered just how good Sey, the Head Bartender, would be at Bartending Skill.
Even if she wasn't some Reclusive Master who could outdo any Hotel bar, drawing out flavors of the Upper Echelons from even ordinary recipes, I was still quite expectant.
That's why I kept glancing over, peeking. Not for any ulterior motive, but purely out of curiosity.
*Not that I'd understand much just by watching.*
And then she began mixing the drink.
She took out a glass of moderate size, like a soju glass magnified several times. She measured a dark chocolate-colored black liquid into an hourglass-shaped stainless steel cup above it and poured it out.
Soon, she took out a twisted bar spoon, similar to the one Tony used, held it upside down inside the glass, and poured an amber liquid over it. The golden processed distilled liquor slowly flowed down the side, forming a layer on top of the jet-black liquid. It remained separated, like oil and water.
After sprinkling a transparent powder over it, she didn't stop there, but poured a pure white cream once more. This, too, formed a pure white layer, floating without sinking.
Amazing. How did she do that?
Are there some liquors that mix and some that don't? Or was some chemical process applied beforehand for this specific purpose?
As I was lost in such random thoughts, the cocktail was already nearing completion.
Black liquid, then a separated amber liquor, and on top of that, white cream. She sprinkled powder over the cream one more time.
It was a beautiful cocktail with distinct layers of color. The colors gradually lightened towards the top, representing the ascending flutter of an angel's wings.
It was the pre-serving form of the Fallen Angel, the Angel's Wing.
“...Already?”
I had just been blinking, and it was already done. As if enchanted, the drink was complete. Sey had already taken her hands off the glass. She calmly brushed her tied-back hair and wiped the table.
Then, a lingering gaze. It was as if she was silently scolding me for spacing out, asking *what are you doing?*
I hurriedly approached the Bar Table and moved the glass onto a round tray.
I was still dazed. It felt like magic. If Tony captivated attention with his visibly fast, precise, flashy, and unique hand movements while making cocktails, Sey was different.
Quite the opposite, perhaps closer to the orthodox. Honestly, the impact from just watching wasn't huge. All that caught my eye was how natural and smooth her movements were.
Her movements were so light that if I just watched, I'd think, *'I could probably do that much?'* It must have been a highly difficult Technique, yet she performed it effortlessly, as if it were too easy. She barely moved her body, just extended her fingertips: *tap, tap, slide*. And just like that, it was done.
Lost in her elegant, smooth, almost aristocratic Cocktail Making, she completed the drink.
Tony's hand movements certainly seemed much faster, while Sey appeared consistently relaxed and unhurried. Yet, the speed at which the cocktails were produced was overwhelmingly on Sey's side.
*It was baffling. Could it be that she mixed drinks so efficiently, without a single wasted motion?*
Is this the dignity of a Master Head Bartender?* I was thinking this as I was about to move towards the Hall Table to serve.
“Do you know how to serve that drink?”
Her flat voice tickled the back of my head. I turned around, and her gaze, angled by the magenta neon sign, was fixed on me.
She, Sey, spoke with eyes that seemed to pierce through me.
“If it's too difficult, call me. I'll help.”
How should I describe this? Indifferent goodwill? I was grateful, but she'd just tossed out the words without any expression, making it awkward to respond. It felt like a random comment had just flown by.
And she had already turned her gaze elsewhere, as if my reaction held no interest for her after she'd said her piece. After hesitating, I said “I understand, thank you,” bowed my head, picked up the tray, and moved to serve.
Her goodwill was appreciated, but I couldn't just ask for help right away.
I had to try as much as I could. I didn't come here to pass things off to others without even trying. And I thought I could certainly manage tapping it twice to mix it.
And now was the time.
“This is the Fallen Angel, a variation of the Angel's Wing cocktail.”
I introduced it grandly, placed the glass on the table occupied by the Self-proclaimed Sherlock Holmes, and was about to tap the glass twice on the table to mix the drink when—
“It came out quickly. That was truly Sey's skill. Watson, if I may say so out of an abundance of caution... you know that the Fallen Angel is completed by being tapped on the table to mix it, don't you? And that you, as the one serving, must undertake that crucial final task?” “Yes. Of course—” “Haha, it's good that we understand each other! You are truly like my Assistant. With your erudition, I trust you are well aware of the proper way to fully enjoy a Fallen Angel.”
At this point, an ominous feeling began to creep up on me. Surely not, right?
“Not the Heretical Way of tapping it twice to mix, but the Orthodox Way of slamming it down once to finish it cleanly. Indeed, the best way to enjoy a drink is in its original manner, savoring its inherent flavor!”
I couldn't help but retort.
“...What did you say?”
“Don't tap it twice to mix, but *slam* it down once! That's how I asked you to do it. Who divides it into two like a coward? That's not how you make a Fallen Angel! A single Explosion, the Big Bang! The Unnatural Harmony within it, the Chaos in the Glass! That is the way to enjoy a Fallen Angel, Watson!”
That sudden outburst. That bizarre conviction, utterly incomprehensible. That's how it was.
Yes. The Customer in front of me right now was a Lunatic. A Lunatic among Lunatics, a complete Lunatic, demanding from a Bar Staff he'd never met before a high-level Technique that only a skilled Bartender could perform.
Right. A crazy person like that would naturally say something like that. It was my fault for not anticipating this. It was a mistake to complacently assume that doing it in two taps would be fine.
*...What should I do?*
I couldn't just stand there dumbfounded. The more unexpected the situation, the faster I needed to react.
Should I try to persuade him first? Maybe I could resolve it by talking him around.
“What if, just hypothetically, I were to say that my Technique is still insufficient, and I'm forced to tap it twice? If we were to assume such a situation right now, how would you react?”
“You're asking the obvious, Watson.”
The Self-proclaimed Sherlock Holmes said, stroking his mustache.
“I ordered a Fallen Angel. But if someone were to present me with an Angel's Wing that had been tapped twice...”
With an exceedingly benevolent smile.
“That wouldn't be a Fallen Angel. Therefore, it wouldn't be the cocktail I ordered. I wouldn't be able to drink it. That's how I would respond. Since it's different from what I ordered, I won't drink it.”
“...”
“Of course, that's just a hypothetical, and such a thing wouldn't happen if you presented a proper Fallen Angel! Hahahaha!”
Right, I didn't expect generous understanding. I just poked at it once, just in case.
I quickly gave up. The customer in front of me seemed absolutely unwilling to budge.
Ultimately, two options remained.
Either I somehow slammed it down myself, or I asked Head Bartender Sey for help.
Rationally, the latter was unequivocally the correct choice. It would be embarrassing for someone who stepped up as a Temporary Field Manager to fail at a simple serving task and have to call a Bartender, but it was better than recklessly slamming it down and breaking the glass or spilling the entire cocktail.
Moreover, the former would be a reckless challenge relying on beginner's luck... Well, I wasn't *that* foolish.
Having worked part-time in various F&B sectors, including Restaurants, Hotels, and Cafes, I learned one lesson.
You should never take risks with food you're serving to customers.
No chef would use a technique they'd never practiced in a real-world setting to cook for customers. It was the same for baristas, bartenders, and pâtissiers, not just chefs.
But for me to attempt daringly a technique that might ruin the drink in one go? A high-difficulty cocktail serving technique I'd never tried before, and therefore, one with an extremely low chance of success?
It was impossible, an option not even worth considering.
I had to ask the Head Bartender. That was the only way.
I felt bitter about my own Force-lessness, having to rely on others, and embarrassed that I'd boasted about being good at work only for this to happen immediately.
What could I do? This was reality. It was my first day on the job, and it was true that I was still very lacking, so I had to accept it. I just needed to do well from now on.
Instead of being depressed, I should be grateful that there was someone to help me. How awkward would the situation have been if Ms. Sey hadn't offered to help?
As I consoled myself thus, I was about to call for Head Bartender Sey.
Someone's voice was heard.
“Watson, are you... *chicken*?”
I froze.
As I stiffly turned my head, the Detective waggled his fingers from side to side with an annoying, smug expression.
“Surely you're not scared, are you? A man, and it's not even that difficult, just tapping a glass on the table to mix it. I trust you wouldn't call for help for something so simple.”
“...”
“Ah, my apologies. Even if you are a Fake Guardian, you wouldn't be *that* much of a *chicken*. Is there really such a *chicken* in the world? If so, he should cut off his own dick. And go back home to suckle his mother's breast some more! Hahahaha!”
*...Is this Mister trying to pick a fight with me right now?*