'What did I get myself into…'
Heaving out a depressing sigh, Noah held wooden trays of alcohol. The most widely known alcohol sold in this humble establishment was the ale, it had a distinct fruity and spicy flavour to it. He personally hasn't tried it but his nose was extremely sensitive to the fine ingredients that layed within these glasses.
Noah wore a thick black apron just like any other waiter or waitress, buttoned white shirt with long sleeves, black jeans, and a pair of boots.
Revealing his dazzling black hair, milky tan skin, black pupils resembling the depths of the void, straight and nicely groomed black eyebrows, the patrons look with pleasant surprised, some even stare blankly with awe.
Carrying an intimidating appearance of many scars across his fine features, many chose not to make problems for him. The waitresses were clasping their hands tightly together prancing around Noah like tape, asking many questions behind his origins, favourite hobbies, his interest in women, etc…
The only waitress who felt extremely threatened by these exchanges was non other than Celia. Pushing the other waitresses aside, she grabbed Noah's collar and whispered, "Don't talk to these pests. They are hunting for your pockets."
Noah slowly nods, and quickly took orders from the many patrons for the night.
"Hello… How may I help you with today?" An unnatural, static tone leaps out from his mouth like an unwanted frog causing the patrons to look at Noah with a mixture confusion and amusement.
"We will like the good ol' ale, two of them." A middle-aged man in a brown suit asked with politeness laced in his voice. He was currently sitting with another patron at about the same age.
Writing down on a notepad, Noah writes with fluidity and extreme speeds, catching the two patrons off guard.
"Someone of your age is this talented! I wished you worked for my business." The middle-aged man chuckled, seeing as how passionate Noah was for his job.
"Hey… How about it. You can come work for me at a famous shoe company."
'I don't think shoes and I go hand in hand really well.' Still, Noah takes in the patron's consideration lightly out of courtesy.
"I have to decline that offer, I prefer this job as a waiter." Noah politely responds, albeit a bit rough on the edges, he showed that he was adapting to his environment.
Placing the notepad on the counter, Victor who was making the orders was subtly surprised.
'Let's see how long you can last for greenhorn.' Victor began pouring out the two ale at a patternised speed.
"Here are the two ale." Before Victor could place the glasses of ale on the counter, Noah delicately grabbed the handles off from Victor's finger tips and walked with wind grace.
He was fast on his feet, each step was as silent as a stone in a tranquil river, steady and soundless.
Noah moved with precision, his eyes scanning the room as he weaved through the patrons. The weight of the ale mugs didn't seem to bother him, his hands steady and confident. His focus was unshaken, and there was a grace to his movements that didn't escape Victor's notice.
As Noah approached the two middle-aged patrons, he placed the ale in front of them with ease. "Here you go. Enjoy your drinks," he said with a polite nod, but his tone still carried that stoic and gruff voice,
The man in the brown suit chuckled, lifting his glass. "You're a natural, young man. If you ever change your mind about the shoe business, you know where to find me."
Noah gave a small, forced smile before returning to the counter. His movements remained fluid and efficient, yet internally, he couldn't help but feel the dull monotony of the task creeping in.
'I've fought assassins, survived in the wild, and battled my way through death's door... And now I'm fetching drinks,' he thought, the irony not lost on him. But Noah wasn't one to complain. If this was the price to pay for the answers he sought, then so be it.
"Wow… He is fast." The many waitresses observed, some who were taking orders gave a quick glance out of curiosity. To each of their observations, none had thought Noah was beneath them in terms of skill. Perhaps they felt a tinge of fear that they were lacking in comparison to Noah.
The waitress who helped picked a table for him yesterday came up to pat his shoulders. But before Celia could scream her to not do such a thing. Noah instinctively grabbed her arm tightly whilst the other hand choking her neck.
The tavern fell into a sudden, deafening silence, the lively chatter and clinking of glasses coming to an abrupt halt. All eyes turned toward the scene unfolding near the counter. Noah's grip on the waitress's arm and neck was firm, his body taut like a coiled spring. His black pupils, sharp and void-like, burned with an intensity that sent chills through those watching.
The waitress gasped in panic, her tray clattering to the floor. She wasn't hurt yet, but the sheer force of his reflexive reaction left her frozen in fear. Noah blinked, realisation dawning on him as if waking from a trance. His grip loosened instantly, and he pulled back, stepping away as if the touch itself had burned him.
"I—" Noah began, his voice low and strained. "I'm... sorry. Reflex."
'Dammit!' His eyes hollow, the darkness circulated around his very soul and physical being.
His whole posture went stiff, only to have his eyes looking down with deep remorse.
Victor's gaze darkened from behind the counter, a flicker of wind beginning to stir around him again.
'I should've anticipated this was going to happen. Assassin instincts huh…' Victor thought, placing his hopes that this accident wasn't going to happen again.
"S—sorry…" Noah replied, carrying major hints of deep regret.
The waitress massages her right wrist in silence, it wasn't an irritated or annoyed silence, it was more of an understanding one.
She wasnt processing anything behind her gesture of patting his shoulder, she thought none of it. But that lack of attention was due to how natural it became when boosting the morale of fellow waiters and waitresses.
"It's alright. It's my mistake anyways." She crouches over to lift her wooden tray and went on with her day.
Celia was watching from start to finish, she came hurdling over to Noah and said, "Is there a way to stop that reaction from happening again? All she was doing was giving you a pat on your shoulder." Concern was apparent with her tensed expression, a face a wife would show to her husband.
"…I don't know."
'Why am I so tensed nowadays?' His hands shook with unknown.
The whole day he was only thinking about Mindset and how he could awaken it. It bothered him so much because he knew that anyone who had Mindset could potentially kill him. Placing himself in a situation where he was an easy target, a dissonance in his hardened heart.
'What is this feeling…'