Chapter 24
The examinees finished their meals and hurried off to study, and now that the break had arrived, Anika headed out to play with her friends.
I spent my time in my room, luxuriating in the silence.
Aside from a fleeting, ten-minute encounter with my parents as they departed to visit an acquaintance, it was a perfectly decent vacation.
‘Honestly, any day I don’t have to work is a good day.’
Perhaps because I finally had the chance to rest, the hours slipped by, and before I knew it, the day of the holiday had returned.
It was the day I had promised to return the handkerchief to Everett.
Dressed in my second-best gown, I made my way toward the fountain where we were meant to meet.
“You’re here early?”
I had left well ahead of time, determined not to keep him waiting as I had before, but he had arrived first regardless.
“I couldn’t have a lady waiting.”
Everett reached out a hand. As I placed mine in his, he tucked his arm around my waist and began to lead me away, only to pause when he glanced at the clock tower.
“We still have some time.”
He had reserved a different restaurant than our previous outing, and it seemed we were a bit early. Looking troubled by the awkward gap in our schedule, I offered a suggestion.
“Would you like to visit a tea room? There’s one nearby.”
“That sounds pleasant.”
It seemed a sensible alternative, but the establishment I had in mind was far too popular.
“I’m terribly sorry. We’re full at the moment; you’ll have to wait.”
The clerk looked apologetic as they offered to add us to the list. Since the shop was a favorite among young noble ladies, a long queue had already snaked out the door. We didn’t have nearly enough time to wait for a table before our dinner reservation.
“We’ll try another time.”
By the time we stepped away from the tea room, our timing had become even more strained. I suggested we simply duck into any nearby shop to kill time, but every storefront we passed was overflowing with holiday revelers.
“I suppose the entire district is the same, given the holiday.”
Perhaps because the city’s mood had lifted after the war, foot traffic in the commercial district had surged.
“Shall we go to the guild?”
Everett proposed the only shop in the area unlikely to be enjoying the peak season.
‘If it’s there, we certainly won’t have to worry about the crowd.’
“Shall we?”
When we pushed open the door to the café, a bell chimed. Kyle appeared from behind the coffee bar, greeting us with a polite nod.
“Welcome.”
His voice and expression were the very picture of professional courtesy. However, the moment he realized his guests were Everett and me, his face soured instantly.
“I got excited thinking it was a real customer.”
Kyle grumbled loud enough for us to hear. “Can’t you use the back door?”
Everett let the complaint slide without batting an eye. Accustomed to such friction, Kyle sighed and gestured toward a seat. Before Everett could even speak, Kyle slid a menu across the counter. It was marked with the words ‘We do not sell whiskey or water’ in bold—a clear jab at Everett.
‘So he’s even asked for water before.’
The menu was a testament to Kyle’s absolute refusal to serve anything he had actually brewed. Everett scoffed at the paper.
“Water.”
At his flat, unyielding tone, Kyle pouted. “Yes, yes. Water for the gentleman.”
He then shoved a different menu toward me, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“And what would you like, Miss Diaz?”
I wanted to follow Everett’s lead and order water, too. I remembered the café’s coffee—it was practically poison. But I had a weakness for faces like Kyle’s.
‘He looks like my father.’
They weren’t identical, but their presence was remarkably similar.
‘Father.’
I gritted my teeth and ordered a coffee, performing an act of filial piety. The corners of Kyle’s eyes, previously drooping with annoyance, snapped upward. He took the order with a bright smile and retreated to the kitchen.
“Miss Diaz.”
Everett called my name, his expression looking somewhat disgruntled.
“Yes?”
I turned my gaze from the kitchen to him. Everett’s expression softened, but his words remained sharp.
“Kailus—that guy is a massive playboy.”
He began picking on Kyle out of the blue. “I know at least ten women he’s been with.”
‘I don’t know the context, but…’
It was quite unexpected for someone who looked like the devoted second lead of a novel to be such a rake.
‘Sorry, Father.’
I apologized in my heart for comparing my father—who lived happily after marrying his first love—to a man like Kyle. I tried to keep my face neutral, but it clearly didn’t work. Seeing my subtle grimace, Everett curled his lips into a smile.
“Your Excellency, no—Everett, those ten are all that there are.”
Kyle emerged with the coffee and water, looking wronged as he defended himself. He set the drinks down before us.
“For the sake of my honor, I should mention that I only had short relationships with each of them, and they never overlapped.”
‘Ah, well then.’
Even if Kyle were a playboy, it wasn’t really my place to judge. Besides, as a reader, I preferred that an attractive side character not actually be a rake. I nodded vaguely, and Kyle’s gaze shifted to Everett.
“And all ten of those ladies were older than me. I imagine the eleventh will be older as well.”
Having made his point, Kyle shook his head at Everett before quickly retreating.
‘Did Everett promise to set Kyle up on a blind date?’
I couldn’t fathom why the conversation had turned to Kyle’s love life. But Everett looked entirely relaxed, as if he had received a perfectly satisfactory answer.
“But Miss Diaz, will you be alright?”
Everett took a sip of his water and glanced between me and the cup of coffee. I felt a surge of genuine dread.
“Might it taste similar to the coffee I had last time?”
“Likely. He’s a consistent fellow.”
Everett gestured to the cup. “Just throw it away. You don’t have to drink it.”
However, I could feel a gaze from behind the counter—Kyle was clearly watching. And he looked highly expectant. Unable to ignore the pressure, I picked up the cup and took a cautious sip.
Kyle looked delighted and vanished into the back of the guild.
I, however, immediately became miserable.
‘Ugh.’
My memory of the coffee must have been idealized. Or perhaps the experience had been so shocking that I had suppressed the true horror. It was a sour, pungent, burnt-tasting liquid that bore no resemblance to actual coffee and smelled frankly alarming.
‘If I drink any more, I think I’ll fall ill.’
I set the cup down with a sharp click. I glanced behind me, then lowered my voice to a whisper.
“Did I do something wrong, perhaps?”
Maybe Kyle simply took pleasure in watching others suffer. The coffee was so offensive that tears actually welled up in my eyes. Everett stared at me for a moment before silently sliding his glass of water toward me.
“I told you not to drink it.”
His tone was thick with concern. I felt wretched; I was the one who had ordered it, and despite Everett’s warning, I was the one who had taken the risk. I gulped down his water, but the sharp, acidic memory of the coffee lingered.
‘This definitely isn’t just bad; it’s spoiled.’
I wasn’t a connoisseur. I was a person with a “blunt palate” who couldn’t tell the difference between cheap, high-volume office coffee and a champion barista’s brew. But I knew this wasn’t normal.
As my expression darkened, Everett tried to mitigate the situation.
“He doesn’t hold a grudge. He is just… truly, fundamentally incapable of improving his craft.”
I felt choked up by his attempt to excuse the inexcusable.
“Even the god of baristas couldn’t fix this if the beans were already rotting.”
My voice rose, the shocking flavor still clinging to my tongue. It echoed through the quiet café, certainly loud enough for the kitchen to hear.
“Rotting?”
“The beans?”
Everett and Kyle—who had suddenly reappeared—asked in tandem. Having never encountered coffee this foul in either my past or present life, I spoke with conviction.
“Yes, it’s spoiled. One hundred percent.”
Because it was a flavor that simply could not exist if the ingredients were anything but ruined.