Chapter 4
When I opened my eyes, feeling a strange sense of liberation, like I had emerged from a deep mire, I was lying in my prison-like room, as always.
As I sat up, feeling a scratchy sensation in my throat from not having enough water, I noticed my smartphone lying alone on the floor.
The screen was half cracked, and for a moment, I felt a pang of regret, but I quickly shook it off. What’s the big deal about a cracked smartphone screen?
Still, I habitually pressed the touchpad and was slightly flustered when it didn’t turn on. I smacked my head when I belatedly realized the battery was dead and wouldn’t power on.
Anyway, that d*mn alcohol is the problem. Whether it’s a company dinner or entertaining clients, I’ve always been the one to take care of everyone until the end, but lately, I feel like I’ve been getting drunk a little more often.
All I had to take care of was myself, and I had enough money in my account to live like a b*m for a year or two. So, it was only natural for me to drink like a wild horse.
“Ugh…I don’t even remember how much I drank yesterday.”
Did I have about five glasses of draft beer at my usual pub? Or did I hit someone with a beer glass?
The tangled memories, like a jumbled ball of yarn, seemed to give me a headache, so I lightly shook my head.
I haven’t checked the time yet, but judging by the red sunset outside, it must be around 5 or 6 in the evening.
A life of eating, drinking to my heart’s content, sleeping like the world is ending, and waking up in the evening. This must be paradise, something an ordinary office worker could never dream of.
As I opened the refrigerator to get a drink before making hangover ramen, I clutched my nose at the stench that pierced my nostrils without warning.
“Cough! Hack! Ugh!”
For a moment, I was reminded of my first chemical warfare training in the army and quickly turned my head away.
I thought my entire body was as dry as a drought-stricken land, with no tears or snot left to shed, but surprisingly, there was plenty coming out.
“D*mn it…what the h*ll is this?”
Holding my nose, I looked inside the refrigerator where the stench was coming from, and all the improperly stored food had gone bad.
There was chicken I’d taken a few bites of, legs and meat, and left in there carelessly, and the kimchi container was left open. There were also leftover convenience store kimbap, bread, and even milk with mold growing on it.
“Ugh, d*mn it. Was I that bad when I was drunk?”
It was obvious that I, drunk, had stopped at various places on my way home and bought a ton of snacks, then ate some at home and shoved the rest into the refrigerator without cleaning up.
I grabbed a bottle of water that looked relatively okay and slammed the refrigerator door shut. I’ll have to throw it all away in the food waste bag later.
“Gulp, gulp…phew!”
To think that plain water, which only offers refreshment, could taste so sweet.
Like a person who found an oasis after walking through a desert, I chugged down an entire 1.5-liter bottle of water.
They say that if you drink alcohol and eat salty food before bed, your body becomes severely dehydrated, and it seems that’s true.
But one 1.5-liter bottle of water didn’t seem to be enough, so I took out another lukewarm bottle from a box stacked in the corner of the living room. I order water in bulk every month, so my house is full of it.
‘Gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp, gulp.”
Only after finishing another bottle of water did I finally feel my thirst quenched.
Now that I was fully hydrated and my fatigue had washed away, I went straight to the bathroom and stood in front of the sink.
As expected, my appearance after living like an animal for the past few days was objectively terrible.
My hair, which I usually kept neatly styled like an office worker, had become greasy and tangled, and my unkempt beard had formed a patchy black forest.
Despite not feeling fatigued, dark circles were flowing down from under my eyes like streams. My cloudy eyes were empty, with nothing to be seen even if you looked closely.
“Even when I’m relaxing, I should at least do it like a human…”
To wake myself up, I splashed cold water on my head and washed my body thoroughly.
Finally, after shaving, I looked in the mirror again with a clean appearance. My eyes still didn’t seem to clear up, leaving me with an uneasy feeling.
Should I put in some eye drops?
After getting myself somewhat presentable, I came out to find that the sun had already set and night was falling. It seemed too bland to just make hangover ramen now, so I got ready to go out.
‘Should I have a hot bowl of gukbap with a shot of soju? Or a Chinese course meal with bamboo leaf liquor?’
Thinking it would be much better than the seafood ramen a single man makes, I left the house, and the chilly autumn wind hit me.
They say that when autumn comes, even a man like me can’t help but become a romantic. I walked down the street, secretly enjoying the way my thin jacket fluttered in the autumn breeze.
It would be nice to take the city bus to the downtown area, or even hop on the subway and go on an evening food tour.
Or should I go crazy and have another wild night?
Before leaving the house, I was full of thoughts of having a warm meal with a light drink, but as soon as I stepped outside and felt the cool night air, my mind changed.
I wondered if my mood was changing like a reed in the wind, but then I thought it was just my excitement as a newly unemployed person getting the better of me.
So, I ended up going to a basement bar in a certain shopping complex that only those in the know would be aware of.
It was one of the second-round spots I had diligently researched and chosen to entertain high-ranking individuals who preferred a luxurious atmosphere.
When people hear”cocktail bar,”they imagine a place where young men and women enjoy colorful and delicious cocktails in a unique atmosphere, looking for hookups, but the truth is, the more hidden a bar is, the fewer such customers it has.
It’s a place with a quiet and calm atmosphere, soft lighting, and gentle music that soothes both body and mind.
To put it nicely, it’s an a*ult cafe for those with sophisticated hobbies, and to put it bluntly, it’s a bar where weirdos who like a gloomy atmosphere gather.
As I went down the stairs leading to the basement shopping area and opened the bar door, the usual bar atmosphere welcomed me.
However, unlike usual, there were very few customers. Just two men in black suits sitting at the bar, that’s all.
It felt awkward to turn back now, so I just sat down at a reasonably distanced spot and called the bartender.
“I’d like a light meal and a mojito for a palate cleanser.”
The bartender, who had been wiping glasses, approached me with a stern face and abruptly looked at the two men sitting across from me.
“Ah, don’t mind us. I’m not the type of person who complains about my drink being ruined because someone is eating at the same bar.”
Ah, he was asking for my understanding because he thought the smell of food might disturb the atmosphere of other customers. It was my fault for not asking for their understanding from the start.
Realizing my mistake belatedly, I nodded my head towards them.
The man, who appeared to be in his 50s, looked at me over his thin-rimmed glasses and then turned back to the young man sitting next to him.
About 10 minutes passed.
In front of me, a typical Western-style meal of golden-brown toast, eggs, and bacon appeared, along with a mojito.
I devoured the meal as if it were disappearing in the wind and refreshed my palate with the sweet and sour mojito.
As I moistened my tongue with the mojito, which had a slight sweetness and the spicy kick of alcohol, I started to crave alcohol in earnest.
I was about to call the bartender to order a Black Russian, which could be considered a grown-up’s drink, when I felt something bubbling up in my stomach.
Did I get a bit of indigestion from suddenly putting greasy food and alcohol into my empty stomach? How weak. I did not raise you like this.
“I’ll have a Black Russian, please.”
This cocktail, with its simple recipe of only vodka and Kahlua, boasts a much stronger and more direct flavor than Kahlua milk.
I once heard that it’s the perfect drink for those who enjoy a strong and deep flavor, as it lacks the smoothness of milk, tonic water, or juice.
The gentleman I was entertaining knew more about cocktails than I did, so even though I didn’t want to hear it, I had overheard so much from him while drinking that it naturally came to mind.
The bartender, approaching me again with a stern face, looked at the other customers once more and then mixed the cocktail right in front of me.
“Here’s your Black Russian.”
The black cocktail served in a wide glass with ice seemed to tempt me to drink it right away.
Alcohol may not be the answer to life, but it can be a refuge.
I once thought that those who drank themselves silly just to get drunk were fools who abused their future livers for momentary pleasure, but once I tried it, I realized there was nothing better.
If drinking makes you happy, why wouldn’t you drink? You fools.
“Gulp, gulp. Ahhhh!”
Like a madman, I finished the Black Russian in two gulps and immediately exhaled a hot breath as I felt something bubbling up inside me.
My throat tingled, and my stomach felt hot, but at the same time, a tipsy feeling washed over me, making me feel like I was floating.
It’s hot, hot. So hot it feels like I’m getting burned.
“Ugh, uh…huh?!”
“You’re holding out quite well.”
Startled by the refined voice of the man who sounded like a British gentleman, I turned my head.
Behind me, the two men in black suits were standing side by side, looking down at me.
“What…is this?”
“It’s quite fascinating. Most possessed individuals wouldn’t even touch food or drinks with a hint of holy water, skillfully avoiding them, but you drank two glasses without hesitation. Are you perhaps unaware?”
“What the h*ll are you talking about…ugh!”
“You must be feeling like you want to throw up everything in your stomach right now, or maybe you want to rip off the clothes you’re wearing.”
“Ohhh, ohhhhh…”
“Master, may we borrow the lounge?”
“Of course, Father. There’s a lounge in the back for regular customers only. Please use that.”
Why is the bartender talking so casually with them as if they know each other well? And what’s with the”Father”? Why are they looking for a lounge? Are they perverts who enjoy h*mosexual acts?
“Let’s take him, John.”
“Yes.”
The young man named John wrapped something like a light purple or plum-colored cloth around me and dragged me away.
I was momentarily enraged and clenched my fists, but my arms went limp like a puppet with its strings cut.
The refined-looking man, seeing me struggling as I was being dragged, suddenly grabbed my head and pressed it down.
To my surprise, my head went down.
“Don’t waste your energy.”
