Perfect Date Course (5): "A Glass of Loneliness, Please."
"A glass of loneliness, please."
"Pardon?"
The bartender lady stared at me in bewilderment at my response. Did I get it wrong? In dramas and movies, saying something like this always got them recommending some fancy drink. For someone like me who was totally new to cocktail bar culture, I figured asking the staff for a recommendation was better than fumbling with an unknown menu item.
Guess movies and reality don't mix, after all. She set down the glass she'd been wiping with her mouth half-open in an "ah..."
"Loneliness, huh... In that case, how about this?"
"Oh. Thanks."
Realizing what I meant, the bartender quietly slid a bottle of liquor in front of me.
"This is the best for loneliness. Alexander 28-year vintage."
Ah, Alexander? What a pain in the ass to pronounce. And a 28-year-old vintage? That shit's gotta cost a fortune, right? I had zero knowledge about liquor types, so I just glanced at Jeong-ah next to me.
"O-oppa? Is that okay? It's probably super expensive."
"It's fine... Still got plenty of subsidy left."
I struck a cool pose in front of the flustered Jeong-ah and said it was no big deal. What the hell—even if it was pricey, it was just booze. How much could one glass run? A hundred thousand won tops? I casually asked the bartender.
"How much for that loneliness?"
"Fifty thousand per glass."
"Huh?"
Fuck? Did I hear that right? Fifty thousand per glass? Not five thousand? In a world where soju and beer cost four thousand a pop—and I'd bitched about that endlessly—this was... way too fucking steep.
"Oppa, you sure? If it's too much, I can cover it here."
"Nah... It's fine."
I'd already put on the cool act, so backing out now meant trying some other menu, right? Should I just order it anyway? That thought crossed my mind, but...
Maybe I could haggle it down a bit?
"I'd like something a little less lonely."
"...Then the 18-year would be twenty thousand per glass."
"My loneliness doesn't exceed five thousand."
Pathetic... I knew I looked like a total cheapskate, but I had no choice but to bargain. Fuck, soju's four thousand these days—twenty thousand per glass felt like pure extravagance.
"...Hey, Bong-soon, grab us a draft beer."
"...Sorry about that."
"No worries, happens all the time."
"Ah..."
I wasn't the first idiot to pull this. The bartender brushed it off like it was routine and poured a draft beer without missing a beat. Damn, now I felt embarrassed. I'd seen guys say cool shit like that in movies and wanted to try it for real. But the real shocker? Other people had done this too? No wonder she didn't freak out—that made sense now.
Feeling kinda sorry for making her deal with my dumb order, I figured we'd just knock back our drinks quick and bounce.
***
After that, we ordered a draft beer—for me—and some tricky-named cocktail for Jeong-ah. It wasn't that expensive; ten thousand per glass was steep enough to make you think twice, but not ruinous, so we drank up.
"Places with this kinda vibe don't suit me..."
"Huh? You don't like it?"
"Not that I hate it..."
Boose-wise, pounding a draft was no different from any old pub. But... a spot screaming "high-class" like this? Totally clashed with me. It felt like I didn't belong in places like this, and I just wanted to GTFO.
"I heard guys usually love spots like this... Did you hate it?"
"...Beats me who the hell 'people' are."
She showed me her smartphone after hearing me out. Ah, so that's what she meant. It was from that DC Inside parody site—the "perfect date course guys love" post. But perfect for this world's guys wasn't perfect for me. Men were rare here, treated like nobility, so Jeong-ah was probably trying to pamper me that way. It didn't match my usual pattern, though—what could ya do?
"The pasta... You said you hated it, but I really wanted to try the couple menu... Wanted to make it perfect."
"It's cool—just thinking like that is thanks enough. But next time, don't go by that crap."
I gave her a quick rundown and took another sip. No point dragging it out; my jaw'd ache. It'd been fun anyway. We chatted more, knocking back one glass, then two, the buzz building.
"Whoa... Look at that guy talking with a girl."
"Where are the other girls? It's 1-on-1?"
"No way... We have three boyfriends guarding us."
Fuck... Even trying to drink in peace, being a guy meant eyes everywhere. Guess I'd save the quiet boozing for when I had a solo spot.
"Jeong-ah, let's head out."
"Yeah, yeah... One sec."
I told her to bounce before the bar got louder.
"Ah... Wait a bit."
"You're wasted..."
Her wobbly stance gave it away. Had she overdone it for me? Or just got swept up in the vibe and ignored her limit? Either way, same destination. I slung her over my shoulder and slowly made our way out.
Luckily, she wasn't too heavy—shoulder-to-shoulder was doable. We left the bar and headed to the goshiwon. She wasn't blackout drunk, so no issues moving.
"Today... I was so happy thanks to you, Seonghun oppa."
"Yeah?"
She just grinned. How was hanging with a boring fuck like me so fun? Honestly, I couldn't match the "perfect date" from her post. Sentimental cafes? My sentimentality tanked with my coins. Western shit like pasta was for rich kids—zero value for money. At the movies, I wasn't the type to squeal at horror like some chick. Maybe my style didn't click with her, but she still had fun anyway. I should be the one thankful.
Ugh... Cold. Let's hurry back.
***
After dropping Jeong-ah at her goshiwon room, I crashed on my bed. Exhausted... First time walking this much in the world, first time this beat since arriving.
Realized I'd done a ton since coming here... But now what? Money was always the issue. Same old thought.
I just wanted a normal life... Pay off my debts, no more wandering or begging. But that meant making bank.
"Hah... Fuck, jerk off again?"
Here, you got subsidy just for being male—enough for a month's splurge. Add part-time gigs, and normalcy was easy. But... that damn donation shit meant I couldn't do it often.
Normal life... With a wife who only had eyes for me, healthy kids. Then suddenly some unknown daughter pops up yelling "Daddy!" Imagine that. Even without kids, more unknown bloodlines? Fuck, that's real horror.
Didn't wanna risk it, so sperm donation was on hold. Part-times... meant more confessions, though. Being male had perks, but equal downsides.
Haa... Head hurts. Kept agonizing over the future till my skull throbbed.
"Fuck it... Game time?"
Wanted to clear my head with gaming. High school days, it'd help when worries hit.
Buy a PC? Not just games—a laptop could do what my phone couldn't. Didn't wanna burn cash, but... maybe a used gaming notebook for around a hundred thousand? Worth the investment.
"Oh yeah, is Rael here?"
Kept hunting for Ragnarok stuff, but did they have Rael? If not, my high school account was toast.
"...Might as well check."
Couldn't play on phone, but login was doable. On a whim, I searched Rael on my smartphone.
"Oh... Lucky—it's here too."
Sighed in relief seeing it existed. Ten-plus years poured in; no site meant no account. Felt good knowing I could game. Logged in and...
[Account does not exist.]
"...What the fuck?"
My ten years—gone. You fucking bitch?