"I'm perfectly fine."
Mark nearly sobbed when he saw his facade so easily seen through. It seems he will to work on his acting skills.
Also, why is this idiot coming to the bar so much? She lives in a relatively well-off family in a wealthy district. There is no reason for this woman to waste her time in such a place.
Her eyes glistened as she sat down in front of him.
"Something wrong? You can tell me if there's any problems~"
Mark felt his eye twitch. He raised his finger and pointed it at her.
"You. have. problems! Coming here to drink for the third time in a week? Why are you worrying for me when just a few days ago I had to carry your drunken self all the back home?"
She took the glass Mark had just served her and raised it to her lips.
"Guilty as charged."
A tantalus smile bloomed on her lips as she took a sip from the sparkling champagne. Then while resting her glass on the bar, she pierced Mark with an accusatory glare.
"But I would like you to stop avoiding the topic."
He sighed.
The brunette seemed terribly determined. Her unyielding expression willing to pester him until he cracks. She truly is a pain.
His vision was then covered, replaced by two peach pearls, the pristine orbs burning with resilience. The brunette seemed to be leaning on the bar, her face breathtakingly close.
"Tell me."
Mark froze for a few seconds, stunned by the intensity of her gaze, then collected himself and gently pushed her back into the stool.
"Fine, fine. Just stop pestering me… Now, where do I start…"
He pondered for a moment, scratching his brown hair while wistfully recalling the past two days.
"Last night, I had a meet up with some people. It… didn't go so well. And so I was forced to use a different route to come here. However the new path was quite unpleasant- I don't recommend taking it. There were thousands of people crowding the streets, with all kinds of awful noises, and some of the local residents were rather clingy."
His face distorted
"But worst of all was the horrid stench!"
Thinking about it nearly made him retch. From the blood to the rotting corpses and all other sorts of horrid smells, the memory was vividly fresh in his mind.
The brunette closed her eyes and continued to drink the sparkling champagne in her hands.
After a few seconds, she looked at Mark incredulously.
"Are you messing with me?"
"Not at all."
He averted his gaze from the enrapturing brunette and looked forward, his eyes looking at something that seemed both far away yet close at hand.
'Walking back home is going to be a pain.'
The idea of going to and from the city was daunting. Perhaps he should just take the normal route and face death, or just get drafted into the army by going through the port?
He shook his head. As bad as things are, dying was the last of his wishes, playing with his life was also not an option.
The brunette suddenly looked up, understanding flashed across her face.
"You were jumped by a gang?"
Mark looked at her questioningly, surprised by her keen logic but also trying to pry her away from the truth by instilling doubt.
Alas, her next words were the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear.
"No wonder you were so unwilling to return after the curfew. You live in the hoods!"
'Damn. Guess I can only blame me for giving myself away like that.'
Hearing the southern district referred to as 'the hood' was also quite rare. It truly is the way outsiders view it.
Those living inside the southern part of the city only know it by the gang territories within, never daring to lump it together as a whole.
Seeing that Mark was making no effort to correct her, worry seemed to emerge in her delicate face as she inspected the young bartender.
"You're not hurt… right?"
He shook his head.
"I'm perfectly fine, without a single bruise or scar to be seen."
She exhaled, stress seeming to pour from her breath and into the atmosphere.
"That's a relief. But why did you go into the slums rather than the port?"
"Because I'd rather not-"
Mark paused, his expression instantly morphing to a neutral smile.
The door creaked open, giving way to a stern man in a coat. The colors of the nation could barely be seen under it.
'Am I cursed?'
The stern man pulled a stool at the bar, not too far yet not too close from the two.
Mark was truly livid. First the callous man, then that deplorable wall in the slums, this insufferable woman, and now him!"
"Welcome back Anton! Is there anything I could get for you?"
The gruff man looked up and smiled crookedly.
"Didn't expect you to remember me. I'll have a scotch."
Of all the people who he uses his ability on, army people were not among them. He feared that they had a way to detect whenever a Blessed acted against them. Besides, Mark simply wanted the man to leave.
Anton turned to the brunette, trying to put a humerus expression on his hardened face. The attempt would have been amusing if Mark wasn't nearly so terrified.
"Such a fine lady shouldn't be drinking herself away in such a place."
'Exactly! Get her away from alcohol!'
Mark found a bit of comfort in the man's words, silently nodding his head in agreement.
The brunette smiled and looked away with feigned annoyance.
"I believe that a fine woman such as myself can do whatever she pleases, wherever and whenever she wants."
Anton shrugged and took the scotch Mark had just slid him, the arduous liquid dissapearing as he downed it immediately.
'That's totally something someone in the army would do! And not just the regular soldier, but one out of his goddamn mind!'
Mark quietly took the glass and began wiping it, listening as Anton began to converse with the nameless brunette.
The sight slightly annoyed him, but he kept his expression pensive, simply focusing on cleaning the delicate glass in his hands.
All he could hope for was the quick departure of the solemn man.
More people entered the bar while some left, the night passed as the scene in the establishment constantly changed, with new departures and arrivals filling the darkening night.
The only constant, to Mark's utter displeasure, were the two in front of him. Neither left as they both continually conversed about the most trivial things.
'Wait a second.'
His expression nearly paled- but with all of his willpower, Mark instantly placated himself.
The blood running through his veins seemed to have frozen still from his sudden revelation.
The woman before him knew he was a blessed, and the man right next to her was someone who hunted the blessed. They were both getting wasted as their conversation deepened.
What a terrible combination! This truly might be how he dies.
He listened on with well-hidden horror as the two continued talking. From this point on he would manipulate the flow of the conversation- away from juicy secrets and more towards the bland and boring small talk. Hopefully one of them would become disinterested and leave.
The night deepened as the three conversed. Royce's bar began to empty as the curfew approached.
And to Mark's utter relief, Anton looked at his wrist- checking his watch before finally standing up.
"I'll have to take my leave now. May I have the delight of knowing your name?"
The brunette smiled.
"You can call me Cellina."
The solemn man nodded.
"You hold your liquor well Cellina."
"Same to you!"
She waved the man away and watched the wooden door creak shut.
Immediately after, Cellina turned back and faced Mark with a mocking grin.
"You're too scared to go near the port."
Mark scoffed.
"Not scared, just cautious. Getting dragged to the war means death."
She rolled her eyes, seemingly unimpressed by his explanation.
"So basically, you'll be walking through the slums every day from now on?"
He shuddered.
"Guess so. There's not much else I can do anyway."
Cellina twirled the glass in her fingers. The sparkling champagne sloshed inside. Droplets sparkles under the light like shooting stars as they fell back down into the resplendent glass.
"You will end up robbed broke, or stabbed dead if you keep going through there."
Mark shrugged. Her worries were not foreign to him. He simply had them too many times.
"Unlike you who lives in the wealthy area, such dangers are already common in my life.
"I can tell, so have fun with that."
She rose from her seat with delicate poise, finishing her champagne before settling the glass on the polished bar.
Cellina then began taking a few steps, approaching the wooden door.
Mark was unable to take his eyes off the enrapturing woman, his eyes tracing her every movement.
Then, halfway from the bar and halfway to the exit, she pivoted to face Mark, her peach-colored eyes shining with an incandescent hue.
"Or… you can stay with me."