The Coffee Was Definitely Spoiled
After the students finished their meals and headed off to study, Anika also went out to play with her friends now that her vacation had started.
I spent the time in my own way, relaxing in my room.
It was a decent enough holiday, all things considered. The only interruption had been the ten minutes I spent with my parents, who had been invited to the home of an acquaintance who lived nearby.
Honestly, as long as I didn’t have to go into the office, most days were pretty good.
Thanks to the proper rest, time passed quickly, and before I knew it another day off had arrived.
It was the day I had promised to return the handkerchief to Everett.
I wore my second-best daytime dress and made my way to the fountain where we had agreed to meet.
“You’re early, aren’t you?”
I had made a point of arriving quickly this time since I’d kept him waiting last time, yet Everett was already there ahead of me again.
“I could hardly keep a lady waiting.”
Everett offered his hand. When I laid mine over it, he lightly wrapped an arm around my waist and began leading me somewhere, only to pause when he glanced at the clock tower.
“We still have some time.”
He had reserved a different restaurant from our last outing, and it seemed we still had a little while before our booking.
Watching Everett deliberate over the awkward gap, I offered a suggestion.
“Would you like to go to a tearoom? There’s one right nearby.”
“Sounds good.”
I had thought it was a solid alternative, but the tearoom I had in mind turned out to be wildly popular.
“I’m afraid we’re full at the moment. You would need to wait.”
The staff member asked with a troubled expression whether we wanted to join the queue.
Since the place was especially favored by young noblewomen, a long line had already formed.
Waiting for a table would eat up too much of the time we had before our restaurant reservation.
“We’ll come back another time.”
After leaving the tearoom, the timing felt even more uncertain. I decided we might as well kill time in any shop that looked decent, but every place we passed was packed with customers.
“It’s the middle of a holiday afternoon. The other spots are probably just as crowded.”
Ever since the war ended, the city had grown more vibrant, and the commercial district seemed to have seen a sharp increase in foot traffic.
“Shall we go to the guild?”
Everett remembered the one establishment in the area that wouldn’t be enjoying the holiday rush.
At least there we won’t have to worry about waiting for a seat.
“Why not?”
When we reached Kail’s café, opened the door, and stepped inside, a small bell chimed.
Kail appeared from behind the coffee counter to greet us.
“Welcome.”
His voice and expression were the very picture of courteous service.
That changed the instant he realized the customers were me and Everett. His face fell immediately.
“I got my hopes up thinking it was real customers.”
Kail grumbled loud enough for us to hear.
“Couldn’t you have come through the back door?”
Everett ignored Kail’s complaint without so much as a flicker of expression. Kail, apparently used to this treatment, let out a small sigh and showed us to a table.
Before Everett could speak, Kail thrust a menu at him. It had “We do not sell whiskey or water” written in large, bold letters across the top—clearly an Everett-exclusive version.
So he even asked for water before.
The orders showed a clear determination never to drink anything Kail had brewed.
Kail subtly pushed the menu closer. Everett looked at it and gave a derisive snort.
“Water.”
The tone was so flat it could have stopped a needle in midair. Kail’s lips twisted into a pout.
“One water for this gentleman.”
Then, as if suddenly remembering I was there too, he turned the menu toward me.
“And for you, Miss Diaz? What would you like?”
His eyes sparkled with anticipation as he waited for my order.
I wanted to follow Everett’s lead and ask for water.
I already knew this place’s coffee was basically poison.
But I happened to be strangely weak to faces that resembled Kail’s.
He looks like Dad.
They weren’t identical, but the overall impression was remarkably similar.
Father… forgive me.
Deciding it counted as filial piety, I squeezed my eyes shut and ordered the coffee.
The drooping corners of my eyes instantly lifted again. Kail, now beaming, headed for the kitchen.
“Miss Diaz.”
Everett called my name with a slightly petulant expression.
“Yes?”
My gaze, which had been following Kail’s path, shifted back to Everett. His face softened a fraction.
“Kailus is an absolute womanizer.”
He immediately began listing the man’s faults.
“I personally know more than ten women he’s been involved with.”
I have no idea where this is coming from, but…
It was genuinely surprising. Someone who looked like the pure-hearted second male lead of a story turning out to be a playboy felt completely out of character.
Sorry, Dad.
I mentally apologized for superimposing my father—who had successfully married his first love and lived happily ever after—onto Kail.
I tried to keep my expression polite, but it clearly wasn’t working very well.
Everett noticed my subtly crumpled face and smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“The ten women Your— I mean, that Everett knows are all of them.”
Kail had come back carrying the coffee and water and overheard. He set the drinks down and immediately defended himself, looking wronged.
“I’m saying this for the sake of my honor: each relationship was short, and I never dated more than one person at a time.”
Well, in that case…
Even if Kail really was a playboy, it wasn’t my place to comment. Still, as someone who had read the original story, I preferred the charming supporting character to not actually be a cad.
When I gave a noncommittal nod, Kail’s gaze moved to Everett.
“And all ten of them were older than me. The eleventh one will probably be older too.”
Having finished his piece, Kail gave an exaggerated head shake in Everett’s direction and quickly vanished.
Did Everett promise to set him up on a blind date or something?
I couldn’t understand why the conversation had suddenly swerved into Kail’s love life, but Everett, who had started it, now wore a satisfied expression.
“By the way, Miss Diaz, are you really going to drink that?”
Everett took a sip of his water and glanced back and forth between me and the coffee cup.
I answered, already a little apprehensive.
“Will it taste similar to the one I had last time?”
“Probably. He’s consistent, if nothing else.”
Everett tried to stop me, saying I didn’t have to drink it.
“Just leave it.”
But I could feel Kail’s gaze boring into the back of my head. It was brimming with expectation.
In the end, I couldn’t ignore that hopeful stare and lifted the cup for a sip.
The moment he saw me drink it, Kail’s face lit up with happiness and he disappeared into the back, presumably toward the guild.
I, however, became miserable instantly.
Ugh.
The memory had definitely been beautified.
Or maybe the trauma was so severe it warped my recollection.
A sour, burnt taste that reminded me of baby vomit assaulted me in waves. There was no pleasant coffee aroma at all—only a strange, off-putting smell.
If I take another sip, I’m definitely going to be sick.
I set the cup down.
After a quick glance behind me, I lowered my voice to a whisper and asked Everett.
“Did I do something wrong?”
Or maybe Kailus simply enjoyed watching other people suffer.
It was so terrible my eyes were watering.
Everett stared at me blankly for a moment, then pushed his own glass of water toward me.
“That’s why I told you not to drink it.”
His tone was genuinely concerned.
It felt unfair that I was the only one I could blame—I was the one who had ordered it, ignored his warning, and drunk it anyway.
I gulped down the water he offered me.
Even so, the horrifying aftertaste of the coffee lingered in my mouth.
This has definitely gone bad.
I wasn’t exactly a coffee connoisseur.
During civil service exam prep I drank so much cheap Americano and instant coffee to stay awake that I eventually got sick of it and stopped.
I was the type who couldn’t tell the difference between instant coffee, bottom-shelf café brew that only cared about volume and price, and the supposedly award-winning coffee from famous cafés.
Even I can tell this is not normal.
When my face fell after tasting something so awful, Everett made excuses for Kail.
“It’s not that he has anything against you. He just hasn’t improved his skills at all.”
His defense on Kail’s behalf made me snap.
“Even a god of baristas couldn’t improve if he used spoiled beans.”
My voice rose from the lingering assault of that shocking flavor, even after I had rinsed my mouth with water. It echoed through the empty café, loud enough to reach the back where Kail was.
“Spoiled?”
“The beans?”
Everett and Kail—who had reappeared out of nowhere—spoke at the same time.
I had never once drunk spoiled coffee in either of my lives, but I answered with absolute certainty.
“Yes. One hundred percent.”
Because there was no way that taste could come from decent ingredients.