The Encounter (1)
"What a saint. A real saint."
At the news of Freesia’s breakup, Lorraine had come running at full speed. Now she tapped Freesia’s head with a look of utter disbelief and unleashed a barrage of biting insults.
“You barely kept in touch for months, so I assumed you and your boyfriend were all lovey-dovey, practically dripping with sweetness. But you’d already broken up and were just holed up in your room feeling sorry for yourself?”
Instead of offering comfort, she was dumping an entire bowl of salt into the wound. Ayla and Lucia flinched in horror, but Lorraine swept her teal hair back with an exasperated sigh and kept going.
“Even if you’d screamed ‘you son of a bitch’ right to his face it wouldn’t have been enough, but doing it alone at home just makes you a pushover. You soft-hearted fool!”
“Then what was I supposed to do? Go find him and curse him out to his face?”
When Freesia pouted her reply, Lorraine looked positively flabbergasted. Frustrated, she drained the large glass of beer in one go.
“Of course you curse him out! You should’ve grabbed that rotten bastard by the hair or slapped him silly—one or the other! Hey! You two say something too. You’re making me look like the only rude one here. Or am I the weird one? Am I weird?!”
“No, that’s normally what people would do, but it’s because Lizzie is so kind-hearted.”
Lucia desperately defended Freesia while shooting her a subtle look. Ayla quickly joined in.
“You are the weird one. And imagine if she actually did what you said. Remember that time at my house when Lizzie… mmph!”
Whether she was trying to help or attack was unclear. The moment Ayla dragged out that painful black history, Freesia frantically covered her mouth. But the other two were already wearing awkward expressions.
“Yeah, that’s true. If she actually hit someone it would’ve been a disaster.”
“Lizzie’s so strong that if she got angry and really let someone have it…”
It had happened back when they were all students. The night they gathered at Ayla’s house to watch a horror movie. When a ghost suddenly jumped out, Freesia had screamed and reflexively grabbed whatever was closest, squeezing with all her might. Even though Ayla was only a hybrid, she belonged to the tiger clan of beastmen. The sheer power behind that grip had snapped her arm clean in two.
In a world where lost limbs could be regrown through tissue cultivation, a broken arm was something that could be fixed overnight—aside from the “it hurt like hell” part. Still, the incident had left a deep scar on Ayla whose arm was broken, on Freesia who had broken it, and on the two who had witnessed everything.
If she had followed Lorraine’s advice and yanked someone’s hair, the entire clump would have come out by the roots. If she had slapped him, it wouldn’t have stopped at a red handprint—his teeth would have scattered like hail. Instead of this warm, friendly drinking party, they would have been sitting in a police station filling out settlement papers with a depressed-looking Freesia.
“Argh! Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that you were way too much of a pushover! At the very least you should’ve kicked his ass good!”
“Ahaha, that’s actually a great idea. His butt would’ve been purple for days and he wouldn’t have been able to walk properly.”
Freesia hung her head and lifted her beer glass. Her friends burst into laughter and clinked their glasses against hers.
After chatting pleasantly for a long while, Freesia excused herself to get some fresh air. The moment she left, the other three let out long sighs.
“Ugh, it’s suffocating. I’ve never seen her like this before.”
Ayla gulped down her beer in frustration. Lucia nodded in silent agreement. Though she tried to hide it, her dark expression was impossible to miss. She wasn’t usually someone whose feelings showed so clearly on her face. More than anything, her ears were half-folded and showed no sign of perking back up.
“Is it because she keeps breaking up for the same reason?”
It wasn’t that Freesia lacked anything. She had a lovely face and was popular with men, yet she never seemed to have much luck with deep, meaningful relationships.
All because of that damn job.
She was constantly deployed far away, and they could only meet for a month or two out of the entire year. Just when things started to deepen, she would leave on deployment and they would break up. Even if they managed to see each other until the next leave, the following deployment would end things again. The cycle repeated endlessly.
Most of the complaints at tonight’s drinking party had been about loneliness or wondering when she would ever have a proper relationship. That said everything.
“That makes sense. Then there’s only one solution.”
When Lorraine and Lucia leaned in curiously, Ayla grinned and made a very explicit gesture—forming a circle with her right thumb and index finger while sliding her left index finger in and out.
“The wound a man gives you can only be erased by a m—gack?!”
Lorraine shook her head in disbelief and grabbed a fistful of Ayla’s flaming red hair as if she meant to rip it out.
Right. This was exactly the kind of person she was. I was an idiot for expecting anything else.
“You! Right now! How is that even a joke!”
“Ow! Ow! My hair! You’re pulling my hair ouuuut!!”
While the two old rivals bickered, Freesia returned. She looked at the scene in confusion. Lucia, her face slightly flushed, quickly mumbled that it was nothing.
If she told the truth—that Ayla had suggested getting laid would fix everything—Freesia’s grip would probably rip every strand of that red hair clean out.
While the pair continued their squabble, Freesia sipped her beer and scanned the bar with a slightly tense expression. Her eyes met those of a young man who looked like a college student. She offered him a gentle smile and waved.
She was thinking how adorable it was that he startled and quickly looked away when Lucia, who had been sipping beer beside her, followed her gaze and spotted him too.
“Do you know him?”
“No. He’s just cute. Maybe he’s playing drinking games with his friends?”
“It reminds me of the old days. We used to do that a lot too.”
Lucia smiled warmly, lost in memories of their youthful days. The corners of Freesia’s mouth lifted in response.
“There was that time someone got a penalty to go invite another table to join and came back stuttering and nearly in tears.”
“When are you going to stop bringing that up?!”
Even as she received the playful scolding, Freesia laughed brightly and clinked glasses with Lucia.
Back then, everything had been so much fun.
“Let go already, you bitch!”
“Ugh, I should just—!”
While Ayla tried to smooth down her messy hair, Freesia—who had heard the whole story—laughed as if it were no big deal, contrary to Lorraine’s worries.
“What does it matter? It’s not like the kid does that every single day.”
At that moment, a tall shadow fell across Freesia. She looked up curiously to find the young man she had thought was cute standing there, scratching his head shyly.
He looked about 180 centimeters tall. His deep black hair—rare these days—gave him a manly impression, but to Freesia he seemed more cute than manly. Perhaps because, despite his masculine features, he radiated the youthful energy of a college student.
“Um…”
“We made eye contact earlier, didn’t we?”
“Yes? Ah, yes.”
“You still look like a college student. How old are you?”
“I’m… twenty-six, and the other three are twenty-nine. Would you like to join our table?”
As expected, an invitation to merge tables. Twenty-six and twenty-nine. She had assumed they were college students, but they were a little older than that. Freesia tapped her cheek with her index finger, thinking.
What should she do? There was a noticeable age gap between the two groups.
A quick glance at her friends showed that both Lorraine and Lucia seemed fine with whatever she decided, while Ayla’s eyes sparkled with immediate approval. That girl, honestly. It might be fun to turn him down just to tease Ayla…
“There must be plenty of people your own age elsewhere. Why did you come all the way over here?”
It was pure curiosity. Even with biotechnology extending youth far beyond the past, subtle differences still existed. Outwardly, Freesia’s group looked almost the same age as the young man, but their clothing, speech patterns, and mannerisms carried slight distinctions. He should have been able to sense that. Besides, when she had stepped out for air earlier, she had seen tables full of girls his own age. So why them?
At Freesia’s question the young man’s face grew even redder. He mumbled for a moment, then answered in a voice as small as a mosquito’s.
“Well… it’s because you’re the prettiest, miss.”
Freesia’s mouth fell open. Behind her she heard Lorraine whistle sharply. Shut up, you.
“Uh, um… thank you.”
Thank you for what? Well, it was something to be thankful for. Freesia broke into a sweat at the sudden direct answer and averted her eyes. She twirled the end of her hair for a moment, then studied the young man with fresh eyes.
Was it because he was still young? His straight ball had no hesitation whatsoever. After spending so long in adult relationships that maintained proper distance, receiving such a fresh, full-force straight ball felt both refreshing and embarrassingly overwhelming.
“It’s a bit cramped here. Should we move somewhere else?”
When Cael first announced that he had successfully joined the other table, his friends looked slightly reluctant. It was understandable—the age difference was quite large. Cael’s group was twenty-six and twenty-nine, while Freesia’s group was thirty-four.
But when they saw Freesia and Ayla waving lightly from across the room, they immediately changed their tune, praising Cael and rising from their seats. With appearances as outstanding as Freesia’s group possessed, a mere five-year gap felt meaningless. Thanks to that, the combined atmosphere was incredibly warm and friendly.
“Oh my. So Cedric, you’re a graduate student right now?”
When the curly-haired blond with heavy dark circles under his eyes—Cedric—nodded and added that he had just started his doctoral program this year, Freesia’s group looked at him with pure pity. Lucia, who had walked the same path, seemed especially sympathetic.
Dear god. There’s another poor soul here willingly choosing a subhuman existence.
“I know exactly how you feel. There’s so much to do. The professors nag you to death. The undergraduates refuse to listen. I find myself thinking dozens—hundreds—of times a day what sin I must have committed in my previous life.”
Lucia, who had been quietly sipping in the corner, suddenly raised her voice. Whether it was the alcohol or the fact that a long-held grievance had surfaced, she spoke with unusual passion.
“Did you attend graduate school too, miss?”
As all sorts of insider stories that could only be understood through personal experience poured out, Cedric’s eyes sparkled with interest despite his exhausted appearance. Lucia scratched her cheek, looking slightly embarrassed.
“I did, a while ago. I’m an associate professor now.”
Cedric’s eyes widened. To someone who had just stepped into a doctoral program, Lucia—who had not only earned her doctorate but become an associate professor at such a young age—looked like a legendary senior who had escaped the prison of graduate school and seized freedom.
“If it’s not too rude, may I ask your major?”
“Me? Magic department. I wrote my thesis on space connection methods according to ultra-long-distance spatial refraction.”
Cedric’s eyes grew even larger. He had heard the rumors. In the magic department, earning a doctorate in one’s early thirties was considered fast, yet there was a genius magician who had become an associate professor at that age. The woman named Lucia before him matched the description perfectly.
“By any chance… are you Professor Fridella?”
“Oh my, you know me?”
Cedric looked utterly dumbfounded. Was there anyone majoring in magic who didn’t know the name Lucia Fridella? And was there anyone who hadn’t heard of the thesis on space connection methods according to ultra-long-distance spatial refraction—the paper that laid the foundation for true warp navigation beyond simple space leaping?
“It’s an honor to meet you! There’s actually something I’ve been dying to ask—”
Lorraine watched the pair, who had somehow launched into an academic discussion, with an expression of disbelief. It was certainly better than watching her quietly sip alcohol in the corner without any social skills, but still…
“Once she gets like that, she won’t stop until she’s satisfied.”
“Does she do that often?”
“She doesn’t usually have anyone to talk to about these topics, so once she starts, she keeps going until she’s had her fill.”
Lorraine looked at Lucia with renewed interest as she actively led the conversation. She usually lacked social courage and could barely speak to men, yet she had this side to her. Perhaps Lorraine had been somewhat indifferent to Lucia until now. She wondered if introducing men from similar academic fields—people who could communicate like this—might have produced better results than the ones she had previously thought were decent.
“Let’s leave the engineering guys to their fun. Shall we keep enjoying ourselves?”
“But is it really okay to leave her like that?”
“Huh? Ah…”
Freesia had been mixing various alcohols she had ordered earlier into a large, clear glass, creating some mysterious bomb drink. Her face was bright red and she wore a silly grin as she concocted the concoction. To anyone looking, she was clearly very drunk. Wondering how someone with such high alcohol tolerance had gotten this far gone, it turned out every drink around her was exceptionally strong. When had she even ordered all of these?
“Want to try the cocktail I made?”
Cocktail? That? If throwing random things together counted as a cocktail, why would bartending licenses even exist? From Cael’s expression, it seemed he had realized—whether he knew anything about cocktails or not—that the bomb drink was not something one should consume.
Yet he drank it. He accepted the self-proclaimed cocktail that looked horrendously unappetizing and downed it in one shot.
“Just leave them be. They’re having fun together.”
That? It looked more like a scene of torture. Apparently Lorraine wasn’t the only one who thought so—the young men paired with her and Ayla also wore awkward expressions. Ayla clicked her tongue at them and wagged her finger.
“Let me ask you something. You’re Elliot, right? If I made something like that for you, would you drink it?”
“Uh… no?”
After a moment of thought, when Elliot shook his head, Ayla shrugged as if to say ‘see?’
“See? Even if a pretty older woman like me made it, you wouldn’t want to drink something like that, right? But he drank it. What does that tell you? He’s interested in Lizzie—no, he has feelings for her. He wants to look good in front of her.”
Listening to the explanation, it made sense. So when he first suggested joining their table and said she was the prettiest, it hadn’t been empty flattery? Still, there was an age difference.
“When someone falls for another person, things like age difference lose all meaning. Oh, right—our romance expert probably wouldn’t know, would you?”
This bitch? Though Ayla’s provocation and the surprised looks from the young men made her blood boil, Lorraine held herself back. She couldn’t suddenly grab someone’s hair in front of outsiders.
Besides, aside from the teasing, Ayla was the most knowledgeable about romance among them. And she herself was definitely not a romance virgin. She simply hadn’t met anyone she truly liked.
“So the conclusion is that we should leave those two to enjoy their own little world. Besides, Lizzie isn’t forcing him to drink. He’s doing it because he wants to impress her, so what’s the problem?”
By now Cael had received yet another self-proclaimed cocktail and was visibly trembling. He looked exactly like a rabbit standing before a tiger.
Whether it was all right to claim she wasn’t forcing him was debatable. Yet he drank it again.
Watching Freesia squeal and clap her hands in delight, Lorraine wondered why she was the one who had to feel embarrassed on everyone’s behalf. She resolved to at least keep her own head on straight.