Finding Your Own Bass… (3)
Tae-il rarely felt overwhelmed while watching live performances.
He might applaud the meticulous, calculated sound or the performance that set hearts ablaze.
But he'd almost never been dominated by the stage itself.
On the flip side, he'd been overwhelmed by the audience's energy countless times when he took the stage himself.
In any case, Tae-il's standards were ridiculously high.
Even legendary top-tier Korean bands like Taesan didn't faze him unless it was their live show.
Maybe it wasn't the artist's skill on stage—it could be a matter of genre.
Tae-il preferred ballad rock or pop rock back in Korea; hard rock just didn't click for him.
It simply didn't spark his interest.
And yet today, he'd already been floored three times.
Once by Rena's drumming, reaching that momentary state of unity with the instrument.
Once by Ayane's makeup and fashion, a stark departure from her usual style.
And finally, the butler cafe.
The butler cafe especially left Tae-il not just confused, but on the verge of awe.
This is the otaku homeland…?
Butler cafe.
Japan's sincere masterpiece—a perfect collab of commercial savvy and otaku bait, yielding results far beyond 1+1=2.
I thought I'd done my homework on the train ride here…
All hubris.
It hit him with a culture shock bigger than his first live viewing event.
The entrance was underground and deceptively ordinary.
But descending the stairs transformed the mundane into the extraordinary.
Tae-il thought the stairwell entrance felt just like the tunnel in Spirited Away, dividing the everyday from the otherworldly.
It was like leaping two centuries from the 21st back to the 19th in one go.
With the sensation of a time-traveling boy, he descended to see polished shoes gleaming below.
Suddenly, the opening of an isekai fantasy flashed in his mind.
The law of first encounters in fantasy isekai.
The protagonist's initial lifeform met is either a beauty, a hunk, or a monster.
Coincidentally, the one Tae-il faced was neither monster nor beauty—a handsome man.
Built like a model, supremely superior proportions.
Of course. It was a butler cafe.
The very air felt different.
A complete contrast to the bright midday sun outside.
Under soft lighting, a bespectacled hunk in a monocle bowed gracefully with a gentle smile.
“Welcome home, miss.”
Then he bowed the same to Tae-il.
“And young master.”
A shiver ran up Tae-il's arms in an instant.
Eek!
Tae-il felt his limbs curling up in embarrassment from the butler's greeting.
“Waaah! A butler. There's a real butler, Tae-il!”
“Yeah. Looks just like one.”
Unlike Tae-il, who choked up the moment the greeting landed, Ayane was thrilled.
“He's way hotter than the ones on the train earlier!”
“G-Geez…”
As her fussing turned to outright compliments on the butler's looks, Tae-il felt a twinge of discomfort.
Unaware or uncaring of Tae-il's souring expression, the butler asked professionally and politely.
“Shall I guide you to your usual seat?”
“No. I heard it's already reserved…”
“One moment, please.”
It's reservation-only by default, but with a male in the party, the butler checked his list.
Even that irked Tae-il.
How can a guy have such elegant gestures?
As he grumbled inwardly, the butler checked the list and widened his eyes.
“Oh my…”
He bowed apologetically, as if deeply honored.
“My deepest apologies. I've committed a grave discourtesy. You're the miss's guest—and her lover, I see.”
A polite apology that didn't come off as servile.
Still.
The setting had suddenly shifted.
Should I correct him?
Tae-il moved to clarify, thinking lovers was a bit much.
“Um, I think there's a misunderstanding. We're not actually lovers—ow!”
“Tae-il?”
Ayane pinched his arm hard.
Her face smiled, but her eyes sank cold as a snow woman's.
“N-Nothing…”
“Ehehe.”
In this comedic turn, the butler smoothly interjected without missing a beat, his tone unflappable.
“As the rumors say, you two look utterly devoted.”
“Right?”
Ayane hugged Tae-il's arm demonstratively, fully immersed in the concept.
The butler smiled warmly.
“Please, come inside. The miss awaits.”
“No waver in his acting at all…”
“A true butler!”
Leaving Ayane's admiration behind, they entered the butler cafe proper.
The first thing in view as the door opened: a massive crystal chandelier, the kind seen only in luxury hotels or weddings.
Directly beneath it appeared a middle-aged butler alongside another.
The middle-aged one went without saying; even the one beside him had an appearance that, by Tae-il's standards, warranted caution.
He couldn't quite pinpoint why.
The two butlers greeted in turn.
“Welcome home, miss.”
“Welcome home, miss.”
Right after, the middle-aged butler muttered something, but Tae-il let it slide like alien gibberish.
Too distracted by surroundings to catch it properly.
So many people…
Even on a weekday morning, the cafe brimmed with customers.
All women, naturally.
Tae-il felt like he'd wandered into a no-man's-land despite the butlers right there.
Eye contact would be mortifying.
Just avoid looking at anyone…
But staring too much at the floor would make him seem insecure, so he casually appraised the walls, ceiling, and furniture like a critic.
The finishes screamed luxury, showing how much care went into the interior.
They said everything was imported from England… is it true?
The Victorian-era British vibe evoked visiting a real noble mansion.
They said butler cafes outdo even maid cafes in authenticity…
Well-deserved reputation.
When concept zeal reaches extremes, it rivals reality—this place nailed it.
The atmosphere overwhelmed him.
“Then, allow me to escort you both to your room. Please follow me. Young master?”
Ayane nudged the still-dazed Tae-il.
“Tae-il, what're you doing?”
“Huh? S-Sorry. Coming.”
Intimidated by the butlers, Tae-il whispered quietly in Ayane's ear.
“Should've dressed up more…”
“Hm? You look fine.”
Ayane gestured to the passing customers.
“Everyone's in casual clothes.”
“R-Really…?”
“Tae-il's surprisingly weak to this stuff?”
Ayane giggled muffledly.
The butler, respecting the lover pretense, didn't intrude on their chat.
“Scared? Hold sister's hand tight?”
“S-Sister? What—?!”
Tae-il flinched as Ayane suddenly grabbed his hand, shaking it off.
She giggled at her rejected hand.
“Hehe. Tae-il's weak to concepts, huh.”
“Ayane, you're crossing lines—watch it.”
“Huh? Watch what?”
“Keep calling this girls' turf.”
“It is.”
“I might drag you to a maid cafe later.”
“Maid cafe?”
“See if you laugh like this there.”
“Pffft! Anytime!”
Ayane shot back nonchalantly, daring him as he glared.
Hmph. Maid cafes even let you experience it firsthand, right?
Wait, that's not it? As Tae-il puzzled, Ayane smirked slyly.
So what if maids weren't her thing?
She'd make them her thing.
Ayane brimmed with confidence.
Her self-esteem, eroded bit by bit, restored in a flash from Tae-il's reactions today.
She regretted not exposing like this more often when alone. Men were weak to skin, a truth innocent Ayane learned too late.
Realizing maid cafes weren't advantageous, Tae-il hurriedly changed topics.
“Anyway. Place is packed. Internet said it's always popular.”
“Yeah! Ayane was shocked too. Everyone looks so happy.”
“Happy, huh…”
Tae-il always respected others' hobbies. As long as they harmed no one.
But witnessing this scene, hard to endorse verbally, complicated his thoughts.
Like feeling tribal disdain watching otakus online.
“Hmm…”
Rock bands had faced similar.
Rock once symbolized raw rebellion, its history far from pretty.
By modern standards, much frowned-upon behavior happened under resistance banners.
Plus, Koreans couldn't forget that live TV exposure incident.
How would it feel if his beloved hobby or job got finger-pointed?
Not good.
Angry, bristling like a hedgehog, curling inward more.
“It's tricky…”
One can't judge others' happiness lightly.
Tae-il felt conflicted, eyes on the butler's straight back amid the women's soft voices.
“Ayane into that kinda fantasy too?”
“Who knows~?”
Sensing the odd unease in Tae-il's voice, Ayane drew out her words with a chuckle.
“Ayane thinks these experiences are fun sometimes.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep. Every girl dreams of being a princess once.”
An incomprehensible realm for Tae-il.
Embracing unresolved worries, they passed the open area into a corridor lined with private rooms.
The clear laughter and kind voices faded to murmurs.
As the meeting neared, Tae-il's curiosity exploded.
Seems like a girl at least…
Arthur's acquaintance nagged at him.
All of Arthur's contacts so far were screw-loose types.
Wonder what weirdo this time…
At the corridor's end, the butler stopped.
“We've arrived.”
Before a door adorned with ornate gold fittings, the butler turned.
“Please. The miss awaits inside.”
The butler opened the door with impeccable poise, bowing deeply.
“Tae-il, my heart's pounding. What do I do?”
“Pound for both of us.”
Dread at whatever freak might leap out.
Ayane's thrill from anticipation.
Tae-il's from pure fear of the unknown.
Opposite emotions in tow, they entered the private room.
“Pardon the intrusion…”
First in view: a thick, dark rosewood round table filling the room, encircled by purple sofas.
And in the center, a refined woman in wa-fu attire leisurely enjoying tea time.
Unlike the outer guests, her distinct presence made Tae-il and Ayane swallow dryly.
Noticing them, she set down her cup mid-sip, beaming.
“Oh my.”
Placing the cup gently on its saucer, her voice rose with delight.
“Come on in.”
Her ink-black eyes, drawing souls in, curved like crescent moons.
“I've been waiting.”