Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Intruder in Daily Life (1)
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If a modern guy like me—who's got the knowledge but none of the hands-on skill—gets dropped into a fantasy world, I dare say dwarves are divine beings.
That's because my espresso machine, siphon brewer, cold brew drip tower, and Aeropress were all crafted by old man Dras, the dwarf who's got his own shop here in Labyrinth City Astraea.
After passing along the basic structures and principles and iterating through trial and error, these gadgets became my prized possessions—and essential tools for doing business.
Especially the espresso machine, its beautiful silver exuding a subtle majesty; the siphon, a joy to simply watch in action; and the cold brew drip tower, ornate enough to double as decor. They all played a huge role in setting the cafe's vibe.
"Now this is how coffee should taste."
"I can half-agree with that."
Ironic, then, that the old man himself preferred something as downright primitive as a French press. He never even ordered one, yet he'd show up every time with some upgraded version he'd tinkered together. Talk about a guy whose love for coffee spoke for itself.
Well, truth be told, the French press is an extraction method that lays bare the beans' flavor, aroma, and quality—exactly as they are. No filters or high pressure forcing things out; you just dump ground beans into hot water. Which means any off-flavors, fines, or oils come through unfiltered too.
Flip side? Use good beans right, and it preserves the coffee's true essence better than anything. For a palate that thrives on harsh liquor and rough drinks, it's a perfect match—no surprise there.
"I just don't get it."
Leimi sis wasn't kidding about finally catching a breather. After heading home yesterday and getting some solid shut-eye, she'd bounced back with real pep in her step as she muttered under her breath.
The regulars had this unspoken rule: if you felt like chatting, you claimed a spot at the bar counter. So with these two parked side by side, skipping a stool in between, it was clear they had words to exchange.
Or maybe they were just bored and looking to kill time.
"Difference in taste, that's all. Personally, hand drip's my favorite."
"Be honest—that's softie coffee."
"Honestly? I think it's iffy too."
What? I knit my brows at the baffling judgment, and Dras slammed his cup down on the table with a thud.
"Filters strip out some of the flavor and those oils. And yet it hinges on the pourer's technique, layering the barista's quirks right on top of the bean's own character."
"From where I'm sitting, the biggest gripe is you don't get consistent results every time. The manager's got skills, so it works out fine—but one slip, and it's ruined."
"Hitting me with facts, huh? Low blow."
Sure, my barista chops were solid. I sourced beans meticulously and roasted them myself, so I took real pride in the quality of my drip coffee.
But if these regulars' gripes held water... well, they did. Tough to argue back.
Especially since these two had tastes set in stone when it came to coffee. Never even sipped the stuff before I opened shop, and yet their takes rang true enough.
Maybe it came with being epicureans from the jump.
"I had something prepped special for you, Dras. Should I just forget it?"
"Hey now, don't get petty over a difference of opinion. Spill—what is it?"
"Ta-da! Alcohol infusion."
The kind of booze once known in my past life as something like Kahlúa. Started out thinking plain vodka would do, but I wanted something with a more unique kick, so I went with whiskey.
"You know how people steep fruit in spirits for that sweet liqueur vibe? Turns out coffee beans work great too. Figured it'd suit you, since you dig immersion brews and booze alike."
"...Even if drip's softie coffee, the manager's touch can pluck a real man's heartstrings."
"Pretty sure that line just sounded softie as hell."
Talk smack all you want—I wasn't one to hold grudges. I'd whipped up nearly five liters, so I boxed some up in wood and handed it over as a gift.
I popped the cap on one bottle for him to sniff, and seeing that satisfied grin curve his lips, I added,
"Works great in cocktails too."
"Hm. Cocktails, huh. Not my top thing."
"Want me to whip one up? Not running a bar here, so nothing that'll get you hammered."
After a moment's thought, he nodded. I snagged the liqueur bottle back from his hand and fetched the shaker I'd stashed away—just in case the cafe tanked and I had to pivot to cocktails through gritted teeth.
Hadn't touched it in ages, so I scrubbed the inside spotless, magicked away the moisture, and gave it a quick flame pass for good measure.
No proper jigger on hand? Improvise, right? One espresso shot's 30ml—a single ounce—so I grabbed an espresso cup for makeshift measuring.
Vodka two ounces, liqueur half, espresso one. Ice in the shaker, shake like hell to mix.
Strictly speaking, double-straining the ice was protocol, but with no strainer worth a damn and no disaster if skipped, I just kept shaking till the ice diluted nicely.
Not a huge pour, so no need for a deep glass. Picked the widest one I had—vaguely martini-glass shaped—poured it in, and topped the foam with whole coffee beans for garnish.
"Cocktail with coffee liqueur, vodka, and espresso. Shall we call it an Espresso Martini?"
Opaque dark brown booze layered with fine foam, three beans as garnish. Handed it straight to old man Dras.
Both the fresh espresso and the bean-steeped liqueur carried that signature coffee oil, so even without milk like in a Kahlúa white, it still creamed up with that lush brown head. Pure appeal.
"...Damn if it doesn't taste like whiskey chocolate. Sweet up front with coffee notes, but that vodka burn lingers strong."
"The charm's in how it feels milky without any."
"Not an everyday thing, but it'd hit nice now and then."
"Not. A. Bar."
I shut down old man Dras's hopeful stare cold. Leimi sis snuck a sidelong peek at the glass, curiosity piqued, but piped up to dissuade him.
"That's a stiff mix—vodka and whiskey-based liqueur."
She let out a heavy sigh. Sis turned into a hot mess around booze.
Shed had a buddy from the magic tower drop by trashed once, and the cringe-fest that ensued made sure she'd never set foot near my cafe buzzed again.
Lucky no other customers were around.
"Got nothing special for me?"
"Everything but coffee here's already special menu."
"Fair. When I'm hungry, you scrape the fridge and plate up something plausible—that's your trick."
"It's basically scraps from my own meal prep."
Can't whip that up daily, and fixed menus? Nah. Sure, regulars occasionally shoved rare ingredients my way begging for something, but that was a true rarity.
Though plenty timed their visits to my meals for double portions.
Anyhow, old man Dras drained the sweet cocktail, raved about the combo, so I allowed I'd mix one occasionally—as long as it stayed casual. Maybe 'cause I'd shot him down once already, he didn't push, just nodded eagerly.
Regulars, am I right? Key's leeway and service, long as they don't become pests.
"Just give a heads-up if you're coming for drinks, though."
"What, no drop-ins?"
"Everyone else is on coffee—boozing solo stands out. And like you see, these tools and glasses aren't daily drivers. Gotta prep."
"Fair enough."
He barked a laugh, settled up, and headed out. Guy spent like a king—tips were always generous.
That's why I prepped gifts. Can't just take without giving back.
Stashed the cash in the safe and swung back to the counter. Leimi sis had polished off her coffees by then and beckoned me over.
"Drinks reminded me of something."
"Yeah?"
"That friend who got wrecked with me last time? She's swinging by next week."
"Whoa."
"...No booze this round. Anyway, nobody pulls off coffee variety like you. Least, not that I've seen in the Empire. Chatted her up a few times, and now she's hooked."
"If she's just a regular customer, no need to loop me in ahead."
"Still, she might get picky with requests, so figured it's polite to warn you. Kept yapping to me about wanting cold brew or whatever."
"Gotcha."
Sealed beans kept ages. Cold brew held up two weeks easy.
She wanted some prepped as gifts or merch, basically.
Satisfied I'd caught her drift, Leimi sis handed back her empty cups with a grin and took off. Promised next time she'd come solo when it was dead quiet.
"Ahh, break time already?"
Not exactly a thriving hotspot, so "break" could stretch to closing. Still, fingers crossed for walk-ins, I muttered to myself and tackled the dishes.
Another peaceful afternoon in the Labyrinth City.