Chapter 228
2107-05-18
T07: 18:55
“”Go, McMillan! Go, McMillan! Go, McMillan! Go, McMillan!!!””
My eardrums felt like they were going to burst.
Even if our bar wasn’t an antique Classic Bar, it usually wasn’t this as noisy as a marketplace… but today, it couldn’t be helped.
This was something that not only Tony and Sey, but even the Dragon President - who was considered a legend among the formidable ronin of Sprawlfield - couldn’t stop.
It wasn’t just our shop; Iceberg Street, no, East Monica, and perhaps the entirety of Dusk City were in an uproar.
When I looked at the time, it wasn’t even the regular opening hours yet. We originally opened at 19:00, but customers had been banging on the doors and protesting to be let in so much that the Dragon President threw his hands up in defeat and opened earlier than scheduled.
It was no unusual thing for there to be many crazy customers in the back alleys of the Outskirts of Dusk City, but today wasn’t just at that level; it seemed like they were swept up as a group in some kind of madness.
Today was May 18th.
It was the day the third of McMillan’s “Three Promises”, the final pledge that McMillan himself declared as his “most painstakingly prepared secret weapon”, which had swept the entire city into a frenzy, was to be revealed.
Of all times, that exact moment was the start of our opening hours at 19:00, so the crazed customers swarmed in, declaring they would drink at the bar and watch it all together, resulting in this mess.
“Mc-men.”
“Who is McMillan? To the blind, he is eyes. To the hungry, he is food. To the thirsty, he is water. If McMillan claims it, I agree. If McMillan speaks, I listen. If McMillan has only one fan, that is me. If McMillan has no fans, I do not exist.”
“Almighty Doi Dexter McMillan, protect me with eternal light, guide me with holy wisdom, and even though the path I walk is shrouded in darkness, guide my soul with divine light…”
Were they all seriously crazy?
Everywhere was filled with the intense red color that symbolized McMillan: McMillan T-shirts, McMillan placards and flags, McMillan neon sign tattoos, McMillan holograms, and even McMillan cocktails.
Right. The McMillan Cocktail, this bastard was the problem.
It was a cocktail that sold well originally, but today it was truly at a crazy level. Without a single exaggeration, it felt like an order was coming in every minute.
Faced with an order volume that was absolutely impossible to handle by working individually like usual, the bartenders had implemented a division of labor among themselves.
Did they say the introduction of the division of labor system increased humanity’s productivity by thousands of times compared to before?
I didn’t know about thousands of times, but it was helpful anyway.
When Tony, who had the fastest hands among us, dazzlingly carved McMillan-shaped ice glasses while mobilizing his freely moving prosthetic arm, Sey would combine the mix for the McMillan cocktails in massive quantities without a moment’s rest in the meantime. Even while making that many drinks, she was precise without the slightest error or mistake.
I took on the role of matching the exact measurements, shaking like a machine, pouring it into the glass, and serving.
“Ughhhhh…”
My arms felt like they were going to fall off. The nightmare from the Ramos Gin Fizz had revived. At least back then it was only one glass, but right now, there was no end in sight, even as it approached a whopping hundred glasses.
Following the Ramos Fizz, it was the Infinite Cocktail Mixing Hell of the McMillan Cocktail this time.
At this point, the shaker felt like an extension of my arm, as one body. I felt like I could do it even with my eyes closed.
I didn’t know about anything else, but I was at the point where I could proudly say my shaking skill had matured to the level of a regular bartender.
“What good is that superior shaking skill or whatever? My forearms are screaming right now!”
I shouted at Tony, who still seemed to have more leeway than I, whether it was because his basic physical strength was good or because he had the knack for working comfortably from having worked for a long time.
“No, does this make sense? How spacious could our bar even be for us to sell this much alcohol? Something’s weird! We’ve already made a hundred glasses! Isn’t this a bug?”
At my scream, Tony sighed and replied.
“Of course not. Do you see that over there? Everyone’s getting their cocktails and heading outside because there are no seats. They’re going to drink and do election support while watching the hologram billboard on the street.”
“But why are they buying all that alcohol from our shop! There are plenty of other bars nearby! Was it like this during the last mayoral election too?”
“Of course it wasn’t. Part of it is because the Election Fever this time is excessive due to that McMillan Yangban, and also…”
Tony’s eyes seemed to glow an unnatural blue, and he soon furrowed his brows.
“Ah, damn it. A rumor spread on the Net forum.”
“On the Net forum?”
“Yeah. It’s a McMillan Supporter Community, take a look at this.”
[Title: East Monica Drgn Pres fr<<<Is this place hot lately?]
┃Is it really a Faction 2 holy ground? I live nearby and a lot of Mc-porters go there.
┃Nah it’s just been a famous place from the start. For a lower levels Franchise, the drink quality is suspiciously good. And the bartender is pretty.
┃The Female Bartender is pretty indeed.
┃I was talking about the guy though?
┃?
┃Which one are you talking about? The East Asian or the Italian? I liked the Italian.
┃I mean the East Asian. He seemed like a Japanese person. Sushi men are delicious originally, yeah.
┃Go say that fucked up shit on the Gay Forum if you don’t want to die.
┃McMillan said if a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall surely be put to death.
┃It is a Faction 2 holy ground. Some headache-inducing bastard told a story last time and it got famous because of that.
┃What story?
┃Someone picked a fight with the bartender there asking if he was Faction 1, and the bartender suddenly did a McMillan-ing out saying he was a Supporter too and recited a whole verse of the McMillan Gospel. It got famous because of that, so I know all those bastards living nearby are going today to order a McMillan Cocktail each.
┃Isn’t it fabricated?
┃It’s a place that originally does well so there’s probably no reason to fabricate it? It’s hot right now partly because of that story, but it’s because the drinks are delicious in the first place. If it tasted bad, people wouldn’t flock there even if they marketed it like that.
┃I’m the party involved in that story, and it’s fr not fabricated.
┃You’re the Party Involved? Why did you pick a fight with a bartender who was just staying still? Are you a retard?
┃I didn’t know he was a fellow 2-picker. Can’t I pick a little fight? Yeah.
┃You should know you narrowly escaped death. You’re a really lucky bastard. Do you even know who the bartender you picked a fight with is? Lol.
┃Who is it?
┃Go to boards.farm.net>>>/Ronin/hand butcher and you’ll know yeah.
┃Am I the only one going because I don’t need anything else and just want to see the President wearing a Yonggari Suit and using weird Japanese?
┃Turns out that President is a fr celebrity… The lineup is brutal.
Cold sweat flowed after I read the forum thread Tony showed me.
Was this that thing they call a self-inflicted disaster or whatever?
I could tell at a glance who the “McMillan-ing out bartender” was.
Fuck, it’s me! No wonder there were so many customers bothering me today, saying, “Ah, it’s that bartender! Give us a verse from the Mc-scriptures!'
No, I only memorized it because I hated the political fanatics bothering me, but it comes back like this? Isn’t this a bit too much?
If these damn McMillan Supporters thought I was a fellow Supporter, they should help me out a bit; I don’t know why they’re making it this hard for me.
Even if they swarmed in calling it a McMillan Holy Ground or whatever and ordered cocktails one after another, only the Dragon President whose sales were going up would be happy, while a mere employee like me would just die from overwork.
There was such a huge crowd that, unlike usual, I wasn’t even getting tips properly in this situation, damn it.
Tony must have seen the thread comments too, so he would know that this was all a Butterfly Effect brought about by me.
Fearing what I might hear, I flinched and looked to the side, but fortunately, Tony was busily making ice glasses again without even time to do so.
However, that wasn’t something to be relieved about.
It meant more work had come in without even a moment to breathe. If Tony worked, I had to work too.
“Aaron! What are you doing? Orders are piling up!”
Because my hands had slowed down for a moment, Sey, who was more professional than anyone when it came to work, shouted sharply.
Ah, I knew why Tony was uncharacteristically engrossed in his work. Sey was truly scary at times like this.
After a word from Sey, I also threw away my distracting thoughts and started shaking once again.
Anyone would do, so I wished someone would please save me from this shaking hell…
* * *
The Infinite Shaking Hell finally came to an end only after the Dragon President, unable to watch any longer, appeared as a relief pitcher and helped with the work.
Because my arms were losing strength and my speed was gradually slowing down, he snatched the shaker and took over the finishing process for me, but I think today was the first time I saw the Dragon President making a cocktail himself.
Since he usually didn’t work at all and was always cooped up in the Boss Room, I didn’t think his drink mixing skill would be that good, but what a surprise it was.
As expected, the president was the president, and Sasha Dragon was Sasha Dragon.
I felt it from the moment he first grabbed the shaker.
This human’s footwork was different.
First of all, unlike me, the Dragon President didn’t hold the shaker with two hands.