< Episode 4 >

When I opened my eyes, feeling a strange sense of liberation as if I had emerged from a deep mire, I was always lying on my back in my prison-like room.

As I sat up, feeling the rough, scratchy sensation all the way down my throat due to inadequate water intake, my eyes fell upon the smartphone lying alone on the floor.

The screen was cracked about halfway, and I felt a fleeting sense of regret, but I quickly shook it off. What's the big deal about a cracked smartphone screen?

Still, when I habitually pressed the touchpad, I was slightly taken aback when the power didn't come on. Only later did I realize that the battery had run out, and I lightly slapped my own head.

Anyway, that damn alcohol is the problem. Whether it's a company dinner or a business reception, I've always been the one to take care of someone until the very end, but recently, it seems like I've been getting drunk a bit more often.

All I needed to take care of was my own body, and my bank account had enough money to allow me to live like a bum for 1-2 years, enjoying myself without a care. So, it was only natural that I indulged in drinking like a wild foal let loose.

Ugh... I can't even remember how much I drank last night.

I think I downed about five bottles of fresh beer at my usual pub? Or maybe I hit someone with a beer glass?

I shook my head lightly, as the tangled memories, like a ball of yarn, seemed to cause a headache.

I haven't checked the time yet, but judging by the red evening glow outside, it must be around 5 to 6 in the afternoon.

Eating and drinking to their heart's content, unaware that they are leaving the world, falling asleep and waking up in the evening—an everyday routine. It would be nothing short of paradise for an ordinary office worker, something they could never dream of.

As I opened the refrigerator to quench my thirst before boiling the hangover ramen, I instinctively pinched my nose shut at the pungent stench that assaulted my senses without warning.

 Cough! Gag! Hack!

Instantly, the feeling from when I first underwent chemical, biological, and radiological training in the military came back, and I quickly turned my head.

I thought that the moisture in my entire body had dried up like a parched land during a drought, and that not a single drop of tears or snot would come out, but surprisingly, a lot came pouring out.

 Fuck, seriously...what the hell.

Peering into the refrigerator, which reeked with a pungent odor despite being tightly closed, I found that all the improperly packaged foods were in a state of decay.

If there was chicken, a few pieces of leg or meat would be bitten off and left haphazardly, and the kimchi lid was left open. There were also leftover convenience store kimbap or bread, and even milk with mold on it.

"Ugh, damn it. Was my luck really this bad?"

It was clear that, in my drunken state, I had stopped by various places on my way home and bought a lot of snacks, only to hastily eat them at home and then, without even tidying up, stuffed them into the refrigerator.

He grabbed the only relatively intact water bottle and slammed the refrigerator door shut. Later, I'll have to put all the food waste in a bag and throw it out at once.

 Gulp gulp... Phew!

Who would have thought that plain water, just providing coolness, could taste so sweet?

I chugged a 1.5-liter bottle of mineral water like someone who had discovered an oasis in the middle of the desert.

Drinking alcohol and then going to sleep after eating salty food really seemed to make the body extremely dehydrated, as the saying went.

But with just one 1.5-liter bottle of water, I felt inexplicably unsatisfied, so I took out another bottle of lukewarm water from the box stacked in a corner of the living room. I order large quantities of water every month, so there are plenty stacked up at home.

 "Gulp gulp gulp gulp gulp."

Only after finishing off another bottle of water did I finally feel the thirst begin to subside.

He must have drunk his fill of water, and the fatigue must have washed away, as he immediately went into the bathroom and stood in front of the sink.

As expected, my appearance over the past few days, having lived like an animal, was objectively beyond words.

The neatly organized hair that had been typical of a working professional had somehow turned into a tangled mess, and his beard, left unshaven, formed a sparse, dark forest.

Despite the lack of fatigue, dark circles streamed down under his eyes like water. His dull eyes were so hollow that even a close look revealed little.

"Even when playing, you should play like a human......"

I poured cold water over my head to wake myself up, scrubbing my body vigorously.

When I finally finished shaving and looked at the mirror again with a clean appearance, I felt a sense of unease as my eyes still seemed as unclean as before.

Should I put in some eye drops or something?

After making myself presentable, I stepped outside to find that the sun had already begun to set and night was approaching. I thought it would be too bland to just cook a hangover ramen now, so I prepared to go out.

How about a shot of soju with some piping hot rice soup? Or perhaps a meal of Chinese cuisine with some Chrysanthemum tea?

I thought it would be much better than the seafood ramen a single man would hastily make, and as I stepped out of the house, a chilly autumn wind blew in my face.

When autumn comes, men become romantics whether they like it or not, they say. I strolled through the streets, secretly enjoying the way my thin jacket fluttered in the autumn breeze.

Taking the city bus to the downtown area would be fine, or even taking the subway for a dinner restaurant tour wouldn't be a bad idea.

Or pretend to be crazy and run joyfully again today?

Even before leaving the house, I was full of thoughts of having a light drink with warm food, but the thought changed fearfully as I faced the chilly night breeze outside.

I wondered how my mood could change so rapidly, like a reed swaying in the wind, but then I realized it was just my excited heart, barely accustomed to my newfound status as a jobless person, that couldn't keep itself in check.

In the end, the place they ended up was a basement bar in a certain commercial building, known only to those in the know.

It was one of the secondary venues I diligently researched and selected to cater to the distinguished guests who prefer a sophisticated atmosphere.

When you mention a cocktail bar, people might imagine young men and women enjoying a mysterious atmosphere, sipping colorful and delicious cocktails, and perhaps engaging in some flirting. However, the more hidden the bar, the fewer such customers it tends to attract.

A place where the air settles quietly and calmly, the soft lighting glows subtly, and the gentle music induces a sense of tranquility and peace of mind.

It's a classy adult café (with alcohol sales) for those with refined tastes, or a bar teeming with eccentric individuals who prefer a gloomy atmosphere, depending on how you look at it.

As I descended the stairs leading to the underground shopping arcade and opened the door to the bar, I was greeted by the bar's distinctive atmosphere, just as it always was.

However, unlike usual, there were very few customers. At most, there were only two men in black sitting at the bar.

Feeling it was too late to turn back, I simply sat down at a reasonably distant spot and called the bartender.

Please serve a light meal and a mojito for dessert.

The bartender, who had been wiping a glass, came over to me with a stern face and abruptly turned to look at the two men sitting on the opposite side.

"Oh, don't worry about us. We're not the kind of people who would throw a fit just because someone else is eating something at the same bar and it ruins the taste of our drink."

Ah, I see. You were worried that the food smell might disturb the other guests, so you asked for their understanding. This was my mistake for not asking for their understanding from the beginning.

Realizing my own rudeness belatedly, I also nodded slightly towards them.

A man estimated to be in his late 50s, wearing thin-framed glasses, looked at me for a moment before turning his head back to the young man sitting beside him.

 That's about how long I waited, about ten minutes.

In front of me was a typical Western breakfast of crispy-toasted bread, eggs, and bacon, accompanied by a glass of mojito.

After hastily finishing their meal as if hiding from the wind, they savored a refreshing and slightly bitter mojito.

As the mojito, with its subtle sweetness and the invigorating bite of alcohol, moistened my tongue, the alcohol began to grip my palate in earnest.

Just as I was about to call the bartender to order a Black Russian, which could be considered an adult drink, I felt a strange sensation of something bubbling and boiling inside me.

Did you suddenly stuff yourself with greasy food and alcohol, making yourself a little sick? You're weak. I didn't raise you to be like that.

"I'll have another Black Russian."

This cocktail, with its simple recipe containing only vodka and Kahlúa, boasts a much stronger and more straightforward flavor than Kahlúa milk.

I've heard that it's the perfect drink for those who don't enjoy the smoothness of milk, tonic water, or juice, but rather seek a strong and deep flavor.

The nobleman I was entertaining knew more about cocktails than I did, and so, even when I didn't particularly want to listen, I picked up so much that it naturally came to mind.

The bartender, with a hardened face once more, approached and glanced at the other patrons again, this time mixing a cocktail right in front of me.

 "Here is your Black Russian."

The cocktail of dark hue, served in a wide glass with ice, seemed to temptingly beckon to be sipped.

Alcohol may not be the answer to life, but it can be a refuge.

There was a time when I thought those who drank until their noses were crooked were fools, sacrificing their future livers for the fleeting pleasure of the moment. But when I tried it myself, I found nothing better.

Why don't they drink when they know it makes them happy? What a bunch of fools.

 Gulp, gulp. Whew!

Not that I was crazy, but after finishing off the Black Russian in just two sips, I soon exhaled hot breath, feeling a boiling sensation inside.

My throat was sore and my insides felt hot, and the fever wouldn't go away, but at the same time, a strange, tingling sensation surged up, making me feel as if I were floating weightlessly.

Hot, so hot. It's so hot I feel like I'm going to get burned.

 "Ugh, ugh... Huh?!"

 "You've held out for quite a while."

I turned my head in surprise at the deep, dignified voice of a man that sounded like a British gentleman I had just heard.

Two men in black suits had somehow appeared behind me, standing side by side and looking down at me.

 "What... is this?"

"It's really amazing. Ordinary vampires wouldn't even touch food or drink if there's the slightest bit of holy water mixed in, but you're gulping down two cups. Are you perhaps unaware?"

 "What nonsense... Ughhh!"

Don't you feel like you want to throw up everything inside you right now? Or maybe you feel like tearing the clothes you're wearing to shreds.

 "Oh oh oh, oh oh oh oh oh oh........"

"Master, may I borrow the lounge for a bit?"

Of course, Bride. There is a lounge inside reserved for regular guests. You may use that one.

Why does the bartender talk to them so naturally, as if he knows them well? And what about the bride? Why is she looking for the lounge? Could they be perverts with a hobby of adultery?

 "Let's go, John."

 "Yes."

A young man named Johan wrapped something like a light purple, or perhaps plum-colored, cloth around my body and then dragged me away.

For a moment, anger surged and he clenched his fist, but then his arms drooped like a puppet with its strings cut.

As I was being dragged away, groaning, the man with a dignified appearance suddenly grabbed my head and pushed it down.

Surprisingly, my head tilted downwards.

"Don't slack off for no reason."