Chapter 22
I had so much to say.
Is it just hitting a glass on the table to mix the drink? If it seems so easy, why don't *you* try it?
Whom was I in this difficult situation because of? Whom was I swallowing my pride and asking for help from others because of? Wasn't it precisely *you*—the Customer—that I was trying to provide the best service for?
But how could you continue to act with not an ounce of consideration or courtesy? Your actions, your words... why do you keep provoking me with such infuriating remarks?
All sorts of thoughts swirled in my head. It felt like they'd burst out of my mouth at any moment.
But what actually came out of my mouth was something entirely different.
“Yes. You were certainly rude.”
It was then that I first realized it: that when I truly got angry, as a person, my expression would turn cold, and my voice would drop low.
I had never been this angry before. Maybe in my rebellious youth, but after I grew up, I didn't easily lose my composure. Living for so long in a civilized *Modern City* rather than this barbaric *Future City* probably contributed to the lack of things to get angry about.
So, <span class="docx-char-style-1">Mr. Sherlock Holmes</span> was quite remarkable, in a way, for someone to make me this furious. Perhaps it wasn't just him, but all the <span class="docx-char-style-1">stress</span> accumulated and deposited from living in <span class="docx-char-style-1">Dusk City</span> that had exploded at once.
Either way, at that moment, I felt the *thread of reason* in my mind fraying. It wasn't quite broken yet, but it was on the verge.
“Right? I was indeed rude. A man like you wouldn't easily pawn off his duties onto others! My apologies, *Watson*. Forgive my mistake. I underestimated you!”
He was truly consistent. Even when I deliberately hardened my expression and spoke sternly, his attitude didn't change in the slightest. Usually, in such cases, it was one of two things: either he was incredibly oblivious, or he was doing it on purpose.
Which was the portly middle-aged *Great Detective*? I glanced at him; his mouth was grinning, but conversely, his eyes were still and calm.
His eyes were clear and were distinctly observing me.
It was deliberate. He was deliberately picking a fight. He knew his actions and words were making me angry. He did it knowing that.
More precisely, he did it to see my reaction and to test me *because* he knew.
How much of it was *Acting* and how much was real? Were his ridiculous detective act and self-introduction all an act from the start?
I lowered my gaze to the *Cocktail Glass* on the table. The multi-layered drink shimmered. It looked like a work of art that shouldn't be broken.
The *Self-Proclaimed Holmes* probably wanted me to smash it onto the table in a fit of rage. That's why he kept deliberately provoking me. Therefore, if I were to slam the glass down now, it would be playing right into his hands, doing exactly what he wanted.
The wise course of action was to make a rational *judgment* without letting my emotions be manipulated, and to call Sey, as I had originally intended.
That was the obvious thing to do. It was to seek help from a *Senior* for tasks I couldn't handle. It was to completely ignore the *Customer*'s provocation. Cool-headed response was the best approach.
I knew that all too well, yet for some reason, I didn't want to.
*Sasha Dragon*'s words came to mind.
“*Troublemakers*. Do you know how many *Lunatics* come to our bar?”
‘When you are working here, it's probably best not to think of it as easy.’
Yes. I admit it. Perhaps I had thought of it too easily. What I had done so far wouldn't be enough.
The *Customer* I encountered on my first day was the type of person who couldn't be satisfied with just kind service. He was fundamentally different from the patrons of the high-end *Restaurant* I had seen before. It was an intentional *troublemaking* act that would continue endlessly if I didn't settle it. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. When dealing with someone who clings like a hunting dog, you have to treat that person the same way.
‘I wondered if you'd adapt well, being so polite and courteous, *Asian*-style. But no problem! It's perfect. *Just like this*, keep it *just like this*.’
Full of spirit, as if to devour a person...
My head throbbed. Was the buzz I thought had settled after a quick breath of fresh air before opening hours coming back?
Suddenly, my goal came to mind: To survive somehow in this damn, dog-eat-dog *Dusk City*, and to live; And to live well; To live as a human being.
It was an incredibly difficult goal. To achieve that goal, I had to be able to handle something like this without difficulty.
“It seems you're very eager to see my *Serving*.”
If he wanted it, I'd show him if that were what it took to settle this.
I lifted the glass with a flourish, staring at the greasy face of the dog-like human in front of me.
Just that made the *Three-Layered Cocktail* sway precariously. I paused for a moment, watching the black, amber, and white harmony ripple as if about to break.
The *Self-proclaimed Sherlock Holmes*'s eyes still held only calm composure. His small, dark eyes were resolute, as if to say that no *sudden action* I took here would surprise him.
Would he remain like that even if I splashed the drink in his face or threw the entire glass?
There was only one way to find out.
*Snap*. I let go of my *thread of reason*. I threw away rational thought and just did whatever I felt like. I completely forgot that the *Troublemaker* in front of me was a *crazy person* carrying numerous *High-tech* weapons, and that provoking him could be dangerous.
So what? This is a city where *Normal Persons* struggle to survive. Perhaps I, who have adapted to this place, am already half-crazy myself.
*Crazy people* must be dealt with by *crazy people*.
If he wanted to see my skill, I would just show him.
I slammed my arm down. I forcefully struck the glass and the cocktail it held on the table.
*CRASH──!!!!*
A resounding noise echoed.
* * *
I didn't give a single thought to *Strength Control*.
It was a slam focused solely on hitting hard.
My condition was so good. I could feel every bit of it—the force applied to my shoulder muscles as I swung one arm, the angle of my bent elbow, the pressure on my forearms.
The moment of impact on the smooth glass in my grip was vivid. Rebound force traveled through my entire arm. A heavy sensation, like a tingling electric current, spread, and it was miraculous that the glass didn't shatter. Was it because the table was covered in elastic *Polyethylene* material, or because I cupped the bottom of the glass with the edge of my hand just before impact?
Fortunately, the glass was intact, and my hand throbbed with numbness amidst the surging *adrenaline*.
And the cocktail...
That was the thought that struck me the moment it collided with the tabletop.
It's going to spill. It's going to make a mess and all pour out. Having slammed it myself, I couldn't *not* know. I instinctively saw the future.
*WHOOSH──*
The liquids in front of me surged up slowly, like a hallucination.
Even though Sey had sprinkled *Powder Coagulant* several times during cocktail preparation to prevent it from easily overflowing and to maintain its intended shape within the glass, it was no use. The force of the slam was too strong to prevent the liquor from splashing out with just that much. Like a spring recoiling, more than half of the drink became droplets due to the rebound, scattering in all directions like a fierce jet of water. It shot up so high that it was almost level with my standing eye-line.
Strangely, my eyes distorted, following all those flying alcohol masses.
Synthetic Brandy, Artificial Cacao Liqueur, Artificial Cream. The scent of strong, factory-made fruit, savory cacao, and the greasy texture of dairy products filled my nostrils.
Golden, black, white. The three-colored liquid compounds had their layers broken and torn apart.
As I became completely dizzy and my vision was mixed up with them, a switch in my head activated, *click*.
My head kept ringing. My ears were filled with a humming tinnitus. My senses became incredibly sharp amidst a dull pain, as if overloaded.
Time stretched. Everything I saw and heard flowed slowly.
*CRASHHHHHH*.
Even the simple sound of hitting the table was new, heard in multiple tones. Sound waves brushed past my cheek. Then, the distinct, finely broken *Synthesizer* electronic sound of *Electronica*, the artificial melody with agonizingly slow lyrics flowing from the *Jukebox*, pierced my brain. My head vibrated, and for a moment, there was a vacuum of sound.
...
...
...
A moment of contemplation.
Then, a question arose.
Could I catch it?
I asked, looking at the leaping liquor and the beautiful wing-beat of a *Leap*ing angel.
In response, a part of my brain *activated*.
*Zzzzzing──*.
It was a sensation I hadn't known existed before, but once I recognized it, it felt as natural as if it had always been there.
Like a monkey moving its tail, a fish breathing with its gills, an ant perceiving the *World* with its antennae, I naturally pulled the droplets.
Air currents formed in the still air. An attractive force, centered on the glass in my hand, extended outwards.
Blood vessels pulsed in my *temple*, and my head throbbed as if it would burst. Everything that came into my bloodshot gaze was pulled into my grasp as if snatched.
The rising and falling droplets landed, tracing an indescribable trajectory. Pulled by an *unexplained* force, they struggled back to where they had started.
They swirled as if trapped in the glass, creating a dynamic appearance, then solidified into a thick, half-mixed, turbulent form.
A liquid structure within the glass, with its intense, violent appearance, struck my brain directly, boasting an *Explosion* of visuals as if a bomb had detonated.
They called it Unnatural Harmony, Chaos in the Glass. I was reluctant to admit it, but it was true.
The three-colored ingredients, accidentally combined by the impact, were art in themselves. They were more beautiful for being imperfect. It was another masterpiece born from the destruction of a work of art.
The angel's wing, Angel's Wing, that had gradually brightened and ascended, was broken and shattered, trapped within the glass.
That's why it was a *Fallen Angel*, because it was a cocktail containing the image of a fallen angel with broken wings, its twisted celestial scream.
Yes. In my hand now was a glass containing the completed *Fallen Angel*, a perfect cocktail, mixed precisely according to the recipe, a cocktail I had finished myself with one strike.
It was a spectacular success.
I stood there blankly for a moment, savoring that fact.
Click──*
The switch turned off again.
I was flung out of that strange sensory *Territory* and returned to reality.
“...”
It felt like I had just woken from a dream. My head no longer throbbed, and my headache had largely subsided. Only mental fatigue remained heavy.
Only then did my body begin to perceive the surrounding sounds normally: the shockwave of my fist slamming the table as if to shatter it, and the rapidly vibrating synthwave *Electronica*.
And silence.
Suddenly, feeling something strange, I looked up and around, and everyone, everyone in the bar called *Dragon's Lair*, was staring at me, from the *Customers* to the *Bartenders*.
That terribly awkward silence. Right. The sound was a bit loud. It's understandable that everyone would be surprised. I didn't expect it to be this loud either.
It was incredibly embarrassing and awkward, but in times like these, I had to act naturally. As if it were just a normal cocktail *Serving*.
I elegantly slid the finished glass with one hand and placed it in front of the Detective. His eyes widened, expressing a great deal of surprise.
“*Fallen Angel* is completed exactly as you ordered. I hope you are satisfied.”
The *Self-proclaimed Sherlock Holmes* couldn't take his eyes off the cocktail, which was collapsing into a dynamic form. He stared, mesmerized, at the traces of the *Explosion* contained within the glass.
At that point, the *Customers* all seemed to realize it was some kind of performance, a service, and began to applaud.
The *Bartenders*, Tony and Sey, were also applauding and looking my way, specifically at the shape of the *Fallen Angel* I had served, the distorted contents in the glass, making it confusing whether it was an angel or a demon.
However, I had no presence of mind to respond to the applause, nor the leisure to pay attention to the *Bartenders*' gazes or the *Troublemaker Detective*'s surprised expression.
Because...
My hand hurt too much. I hadn't noticed it before, but once the excitement subsided, a terrible pain, so numb it felt like my hand bones were shattered, came belatedly. Having made such a loud noise and slammed my hand, which was cupping the glass, mercilessly hard against the table, it was only natural. In essence, I had served the drink by slamming my hand, not the glass, onto the table.
Tears welled up in my eyes. When the pain was too much, it was hard to move freely, and that was exactly the situation. Holding my trembling hand gently with the other, I hunched over and headed towards the *Staff Lounge*.
“I'll just be a moment...”
Seeing my tearful expression, Tony nodded with a wry face. Taking it as permission, I opened the *Rest Area* door and stumbled inside.
I felt like I needed to rest for a bit and apply an ice pack.