Chapter 61
"Did you come alone?"
A soft voice whispered right in my ear. Cold sweat trickled down my back. A hand clad in a black glove brushed my index finger as if by accident, snatching the bottle from my grasp. I didn't even twitch in protest before whipping my gaze around with a frantic rustle.
"Hoh, so you did come alone."
I stammered a reply, and his red lips curved into a graceful arc.
"I see."
The man turned fully toward me now, leaning his upper body slightly my way. I flinched, my body trembling. His hand, covered in black leather gloves, slowly stroked near the bottle's neck. That simple gesture thickened the air with tension.
The scent and vibe felt familiar yet not—I couldn't quite place it. But I set aside personal musings for the moment, analyzing his intentions with a cold, calculating eye.
Seduction? Is he into that kind of thing?
From how he'd approached me at the bar and the aura he exuded, it pointed to seduction. But I was too suspicious to chalk it up to that alone.
Or... is it a trap after all?
My eyes darkened. His deliberate approach screamed trap targeting Mir. While wary in my heart, I decided to play along for now.
"Are you here alone too?"
"As you can see."
He shrugged. Beckoning the bartender with a gesture, he parted those blood-red lips.
"A fruit platter... and a full bottle of absinthe. Another glass too."
His languid, drowsy voice placed the order curtly. Even that was lethally charming—they'd clearly sent someone primed to lure me in.
Absinthe, though...
An intriguing choice. I blinked slowly, tilting my head slightly to eye him. Absinthe was a unique liquor favored by many artists. Once, rumors swirled that its key ingredient, wormwood, was poisonous, slashing production. It was later debunked, but its fluorescent green hue—eerie and intoxicating—still earned it the moniker "beautiful poison."
Is he hinting he'll poison me to death?
I entertained the silly thought, resting my chin on my hand as I met his gaze. He chuckled softly. Even with only his lower face visible, he radiated dangerous allure.
"Your order's here."
How long had we stared at each other in that odd silence? The bartender set down a fruit bowl, two glasses, the absinthe bottle, an absinthe spoon, and a sugar cube container before the man.
"How do you—"
"Light it on fire. I've got my own lighter, so go."
The bartender, who'd hesitated with a water pitcher, nodded in understanding and vanished. The man flashed me a grin, placing the crescent-mandala-holed absinthe spoon over one glass and dropping a white sugar cube atop it.
"Absinthe's color is stunning, isn't it?"
He spoke in an affected tone, tilting the bottle into the glass. Fluorescent green liquid flowed, soaking the sugar and filling the glass. The glowing green absinthe in the crystal evoked a lethal toxin.
"...It is."
As I admired the beautiful poison, a pair of eyes matching its hue sprang to mind.
Leo.
Green symbolized innocence and harmlessness, yet Leo's vivid green eyes always reminded me of instant-death venom.
I don't want to live anymore.
That hatred for the world bubbling up like foam over the poison, profound sorrow, endless self-loathing—it was what made me reach for the boy. Knowing he was a lion cub, sensing he might be fatal poison, I still took him in.
I stared intently at the black hood veiling the man's eyes. For some reason, I yearned to see their color.
"The drinking method's unique too. Soak the sugar in water to dissolve it, burn it to melt—either way, only once it's melted can you taste the real flavor."
He pulled a Zippo from his pocket and lit the damp sugar atop the absinthe. Flames melted it down. I watched the burning white sugar intently before shifting to him. He grinned wickedly.
"Fun, right?"
With a pleased whisper, he blew out the flame. The thickly melted sugar mixed in, clouding the liquid into an opaque green. It felt even more potent now, like amplified toxin. My eyes drifted to the fruit plate.
"You're buying this, right? Mind if I eat?"
"Help yourself."
I plucked a pretty pale green grape from the artfully arranged platter and popped it in. Its hue matched the absinthe—and that young boy's eyes—strikingly.
He watched my chewing lips and chuckled low.
"I said absinthe was fun?"
"Yeah."
"I think something else is more fun."
His hand rested on my waist. I placed mine on his thigh. Firm muscle met my palm. Ignoring my trembling skin, I gripped tight and leaned in sharply. Our faces drew close. For the first time since we met, his ever-relaxed smile faltered slightly.
"You are more fun."
I whispered, staring straight at the hood over his eyes, and smiled slowly. Brushing past his stiffened form, I teased the back of his hand holding the absinthe glass. Seizing the moment he loosened his grip, I snatched it and downed the absinthe. Undissolved sugar grit sparked rough sweetness in my mouth.
"Darling."
I whispered with a laugh, drawing our faces nearer. Inches from touching. Not a trace of smile remained on his lips. Spotting his throbbing throat, I smiled languidly.
"You... guh!"
"We know you're in here! Come out, mercenary Mir!"
The interrupters arrived.
Fucking hell... real pains in the ass.
Dressing as Mir usually made sane folks steer clear, but every so often, these brain-dead idiots showed up. Cursing inwardly with a sigh, I withdrew my hand from his thigh and pulled back my leaned-in torso. My sigh carried absinthe's peculiar scent.
"Looks like I've got company. Gotta pause this."
At those words, his lips hardened terrifyingly. They quivered faintly—pure rage.
I was gonna pry his identity... at knife-point if needed.
Regretfully shelving my dagger hand, I figured the pests came first.
"There she is, Mir!"
One of the three roughnecks who'd burst in like they owned the place spotted me and yelled. Frowning, I gauged their auras. All wore swords, but not one had reached Sword Expert.
First goal: end this with words.
Their malicious vibes suggested blades would draw anyway, but I hoped for quick closure.
"Whatever your beef, let's talk outside."
I stood, eyeing the murmuring crowd and the anxious bartender glancing my way. No need to trash the bar. Then, a hand tugged my robe sleeve lightly.
"...What's this?"
"I'm coming too."
I glanced between him and the fuming trio, shaking my head as I gently pried off his hand.
"Might be dangerous. Stay here. I'll be right back."
A Sword Expert like him had zero risk from these punks, but facing pinky-crushable weaklings as a duo bruised my pride. He bit his lip hard at my firm tone but let go.
"What's the problem?"
I'd barely dragged the rowdy bunch outside into a nearby deserted alley when I sensed footsteps following from the bar—but I pretended not to notice.
"You sneaky bastard! You stole our job!"
A burly bald brute stepped up, bellowing. It was news to me; I scowled.
"First time seeing you lot today."
"Don't play dumb! Eight months ago, you snatched the Paladin Merchant Group's escort gig from us!"
Oh, that.
The fat payout stuck in my memory. Escorting the massive Paladin caravan from Ambrosio Kingdom had been sudden.
'Mir! Can you take this job right now? Pays great, not too tough!'
'What's the gig?'
'Escort Paladin through the north! Others were set but no contact—probably still passed out from last night's binge!'
'Hmm.'
'High-profile clients. Can't blow trust like this. Cover for me once? They'll love hearing Mir's on it!'
So these were the blackout drunks.
I eyed the three seething idiots with apathy. Pathetic, blaming me for their screw-up.
"Thought you'd ghosted 'cause you feared us—jackpot running into you! Gonna school a pint-sized punk like you in one stroke!"
Blame game to wild delusions. I didn't want to dirty my blade on them. Scratching my head irritably,
"No thought of just leaving? Go now, and I'll send you off nice."
"Ha! He's scared!"
One blabbered nonsense. Half hoping they'd yap and leave, half curious how far they'd go, I watched them chatter.
"Our vibe crushed him! Told ya Mir's no big deal! Saw her last time—tiny, scrawny, one kick and she'd fly!"
"Up close, yeah. Real Golden Shield mercenary? Looks like a male prostitute from a drug den."
"Heard rumors Mir spreads legs for gigs. Might be true."
"Hmm... yeah..."
This irks me.
I prided myself on thick skin from endless slander, but this low-rent filth always soured my mood. Eyes half-lidded, plotting payback, my hand drifted to my sword hilt.
"Before I beat sense into you... maybe another way to teach you?"
The nodding punks leered sleazily.