CHIN-HAE

A Drink Best Served Cold

Wine isn’t exactly my favorite thing. It's simply not something that lends itself well to me. It’s a distraction, and intoxicating weapon wielded by cowards who wish to run away from reality in order to feel worthy. That aspect couldn’t be any more of the opposite of what I wish. On the other hand it’s also wielded by the wealthy, a symbol of status and nothing more. An otherworldly trophy and testament to their never ending riches. Another thing I could never strive to be.

As I said, wine and I don’t exactly get along. Which makes the idea of going to a bar a bit repulsive on the surface. The rich and poignant smell of red wine manages to permeate through the brick wall of the dark alley I find myself in. The sheer richness of the smell brings to mind men chatting amongst themselves with more money than they’d ever need as they swirl glasses of liquid poison. If only they’d drop dead sooner, leaving their mistresses and snot nosed toddlers to inherit their wealth.

After a few more moments of waiting outside the wall it finally opens, brick all but fading away to reveal a smooth dark wood door, managing to sell the expensive bar aesthetic quite well for being in the pseudo-urban suburbs. I reach a gloved hand out to twist the doorknob, opening the door and allowing the nearly overpowering smell of wine and liquid temptation to wash over me.

I step inside, my uniform transforming into a slick English cut black suit. It’s relatively tame, a winged collar and three button square cuffs but it’s nice nonetheless. Form fitting but not constricting. Which seems to be a problem with a majority of American clothing. Especially around the waist though I’d hate to admit that. My fingerless gloves fade to a pair of white gloves as the smoke billowing through the room makes itself known, flowing between my fingers like silk. Finally the wardrobe change is finalized, leaving only the talisman hanging from my neck unchanged.

“No matter how many times that happens I’ll never quite get used to it.” I admit, my eyes flitting around the bar, taking in the radiant light of the hanging chandelier and abundance of empty barstools.

A sultry hum cuts through the fog, a sign of acknowledgment no doubt. It seems I’m not so late to have gotten on her bad side. Though it’s hard to see much through this fog, I see a familiar red dress sitting in front of the bar. Hugging the woman’s figure nicely as she drinks from a glass of wine someone inexperienced may mistake for blood. If I focus hard enough I could almost see her clear gray eyes through her hair but the smoke is particularly thick today so I doubt I’d be capable.

“You’re late, that’s new. I suppose Sol was right and you did have a date. Feel bad for the poor guy.” She laments, the sound of clinking ice swirling around in her glass alongside the slightly teasing tone in her voice removes most of the tension in the room.

“I assure you, everything Solomon said was a lie.” I'll have to talk to him later about this, prattling off lies will get him killed someday, a talk would be an act of mercy on my part. Albeit a necessary one..

“So you were late because you wanted to be?”

“... Mostly a lie.”

“I see, well then mind telling me what kept you?”

“I ran into the target, the person we’re here for, his name is James Moore, he goes to my school.”

“You had a hangout with a friend? Nice to see you’re making progress.” She jokes, even in this obscuring fog I can see the smile adorning her lips.

She’s having fun with this, Solomon is going to get the beating of a lifetime.

“He is not a friend, I don’t make friends with fools.” I clarify, my tone clear enough the elusive bartender could probably hear.

“You don’t make friends at all, now back to James, are you sure he’s the guy we’re looking for?”

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“There is literally no one else in the city besides us and him that have awakened. Not to mention the higher ups told us they would be where nature creeps and sorrow follows. I found him fighting the Moss Mistress, now unless this is some strange coincidence and I wasted my time I’d say I’m correct.” I assert, my words coming off colder than intended but the meaning still gets through.

Another hum echoed through the bar, held longer than the last as she pondered the information I told her. I let out a soft sigh, after all even if I was wrong it’s not like I told him any important secrets of the trade. Even if I had, keeping secrets wasn’t exactly foreign to me, regardless of the method.

The sound of wine trickling into a glass snapped me out of my thoughts momentarily, usually the bartender made his presence known but it seems even he can read the mood at times. It’s hard to get a good view of him through the looming gray but I could tell his ever present grin still ordained his ochre colored complexion.

For a man with barely any patrons in his bar he’s awfully chipper. I suppose having those few patrons be awfully rich ends up working in his favor.

“Another glass of Cabernet Sauvignon for you, and anything for the little lad?” He asks, his words intertwined with a lax attitude.

“I don’t drink.” Obviously, I don’t exactly look legal do I?

“I can tell, want a lemonade or something?” He asks, wiping down a tall glass.

“No.” I answer as he grabs a pitcher of lemonade.

“Hmm, ice?” He asks again, pouring some lemonade into the glass with a hum.

“No.” I repeat as he pours in some ice, first James, then Solomon and now this guy, is this some form of divine punishment?

“Alright, you want me to put it on her tab?”

“What part of no don’t you don’t you understand?”

The bartender’s arm appears through the fog, his sleeve rolled up to reveal an arm you’d expect on a boxer. In his gloved hand rests the glass of Lemonade.

“The ‘no’ part.” The bartender answers, I could almost hear the wink in his voice as he gleefully presents the drink to me.

Reluctantly, I take the glass, can’t be disrespectful to my elders after all. I place it on one of the tables beside me. The drink swirling around before finally settling to a calm.

“That’s not going on my tab, it's coming out of your paycheck y’know.” She says, her voice almost laced with a garnet red color. “Now, I assume you told James to go to the “Occult Club” on Monday?”

“Yes, I will also instruct the rest of the members to be on their best behavior in order to prevent any catastrophes.” If I beat Solomon black and blue in the process that’s just good time management, after all if you eat the pheasant you also eat the egg.

“It couldn’t be— Ah well it really just depends on little miss lucky doesn’t it?” She surmises.

“I’ll make sure to let the Boss know first.”

“Good, what about the boy’s capabilities?”

Ugh I’d rather not bring that up again. Watching someone with such an impressive mana pool waste it all on burning it out or flashy weapons wasn’t fun, it was just woefully pathetic. I’ll admit the idea of using a blade to prevent regeneration was shockingly smart for someone that acted so… uncivilized. But in the end he only exhausted himself and was basically riding a train to death. Not to mention engaging in combat in a hoodie and skinny jeans, I swear if I spend another minute on him my blood pressure will skyrocket.

“He was alright, plenty of room for improvement. A lot of room. He was horrible.” I choke out, the more I think about it the worse it becomes.

“But he defeated the Moss Mistress, surely he can’t be that bad!” She says in false surprise before smugly adding onto those words. “Unless, you did charity work and killed it for him.”

“Letting the guy we’re here for die would be stupid, a tree could tell you that.”

“Have you asked?”

“Don’t take it literally.”

“Hmm well I guess we’ll just have to see how he turns out. I doubt you’re happy with that though.” She presumes, she’s correct of course, dealing with novices is charity work and I don’t do pointless charity work.

After all, that won’t help me improve, that would get me any closer to my goal. It’ll just waste my time. If I wanted to be surrounded by pointless work I’d have just stayed with the Association and—,

My right hand quickly grasps the talisman around my neck, returning my thoughts to the present. I take in deep breaths, red wine tickling my nose as I calm down. I’m fine, everything’s alright. I will count backwards from ten and everything will be fine.

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

“No, I’m not.” I manage to spit out,

“Great, then I suppose we’re done here.”

“What?” What?

“There’s nothing else I need to tell you, since you’ve taken care of the Moss Mistress and set up a meeting with our person of interest you’ve got everything handled.” She explains, her voice is calm despite the amount of alcohol she’s drunk. “You did well, 10 gold stars!”

“Are you sure? Nothing else?”

“Nope, see you next time Chin-Hae.” In seconds the bar becomes a haze as the bartender swats his hand in my direction and then…

I’m back outside of the brick wall. The chill of the alley flowing through my bangs as my coat billows in the breeze. Everything was back as it was before I went in, as I continued to gain my bearings I noticed the soft clinking of ice and glanced down. Sure enough there was the glass of lemonade.

Raising the glass to my lips, I take a sip as I make my way towards the dormitory. It's cold, not too cold but a nice chill. Akin to a powder blue sparsely dotted across an oil painting.

Cars whiz past as I move along, the occasional whisper and point in my direction breaking the calming moment. I take another sip, longer this time as I wait for the light to turn red. Streetlights framing the town in light as it trickles into the night.

The city is painted in dark blues, blacks, yellows and golds as I enjoy a drink best served cold.