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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Zaped
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“Do you know how expensive this place is?”
The moment we sat down, that’s what she said.
How would I know?
Without saying anything, I just stared at her in silence.
She looked visibly flustered but tried hard to act nonchalant.
“I’m not saying you should split the bill with me, so don’t worry about that! I made the reservation here, after all. But… I was hoping to offset the cost with this.”
Once again, I didn’t respond.
I just kept staring at her.
Meanwhile, I counted the seconds in my head.
The Seven-Second Rule.
It was something I’d learned during a career workshop.
The speaker—a journalist—said that if you hold your silence for exactly seven seconds, you can watch the other person crumble on their own.
Sometimes, just staying quiet and watching can create an intimidating presence.
And to this clumsy “villainess,” I intended to return her rudeness in kind.
“Q-Quit staring at me like that!”
Not even three seconds.
Is she hiding something?
“Let’s make a bet.”
I tapped the table with my fingers to grab her attention.
“A… bet?”
“It’s simple. Let’s just stare at each other. It’s not a staring contest, so you can blink or move, but the first one to break eye contact loses. If I win, I’ll charge extra for the drinks.”
She rolled her eyes nervously and asked in a small voice, “What if I win?”
“I’ll leave the drinks behind and go. How’s that sound?”
“That doesn’t benefit me at all!”
She snapped, clearly irritated.
“Then I’ll just leave without selling anything. Enjoy your meal and drinks. Since you only drank a little water, just pay for that.”
It’s not like it’s my money—it’s hers.
After a brief pause, she coughed and straightened her posture.
“Fine. You’ll regret this once you find out what I do for a living.”
“Great. I’m not confident… in losing. Let’s begin.”
I knocked on the table with one hand and pressed the call button for the server with the other.
A soft chime sounded, and the server promptly arrived.
“Do you need anything?”
Without looking up at the server, I said, “Oh, the lady across from me said she’s interested in you. Could you get her number for me?”
“Pardon?!”
“What?!”
The server’s face immediately soured, and the woman turned crimson as she glared at me.
For someone in the service industry, he’s got no poker face.
His reaction spoke volumes about Hampton’s hiring standards.
“Oh, my apologies—it was a punishment game. Since you’re here, could you take our order? Two mimosas, please. This is for the trouble.”
I handed over a tip.
The woman alternated between glaring at me and looking incredulously at the server, who left with a visibly relieved expression.
She looked furious.
“What the hell was that about?!”
“I just ordered drinks. Since I chose, I’ll treat you.”
“That’s not the point! It’s against the rules!”
“We didn’t set any rules, so there are none to break.”
A different server quickly brought over two mimosas—half champagne, half orange juice.
The glasses were absurdly small, but maybe that’s just the norm here.
“This doesn’t count! It’s invalid!”
“Want to go another round? Different challenge this time.”
She crossed her arms, clearly displeased.
I idly fiddled with my mimosa glass before gesturing toward a buffet of colorful cakes and pastries displayed nearby.
“What’s the challenge this time?”
“Whoever picks the best dessert to pair with this mimosa wins. What do you say?”
She looked at me with incredulity.
“That’s just a game of stubbornness! It won’t end if one side keeps insisting!”
Got her.
Now it’s time to poke her pride.
“Not confident? I thought you said you liked alcohol. Don’t you have a refined palate? Or is it more of a ‘just give me the booze, never mind the food’ kind of thing?”
“…Listen, you. You keep provoking me, but watch yourself.”
Her voice turned serious, but I feigned an understanding expression.
“Kill me if you want.”
“What?”
“I said, kill me if you want.”
“Who the hell says that?!”
“Well, if you’re going to kill me, at least let me enjoy one more dessert that pairs perfectly with this mimosa. Go ahead, shoot me after recommending a good pairing. But if I win this time, I’ll be raising the price for the drinks.”
“…Fine.”
She stood up abruptly, and I caught a glimpse of the pistol at her hip. Of course, I had no intention of losing.
An Hour and a Half Later.
“…It’s another tie.”
Leticia—or Letty, as she introduced herself—finally admitted defeat.
She realized she was facing someone who enjoyed alcohol as much as she did.
The two of us had spent the time competing by pairing different cocktails with desserts.
The stakes subtly escalated as we upped the alcohol content: from 5% mimosas to 10% screwdrivers, and finally to 15% Long Island iced teas.
Despite everything, neither of us got particularly drunk, thanks to the small glass sizes and the desserts balancing the alcohol.
“You chose the plum tart?”
“This drink leaves a bitter aftertaste, so I thought something sweet and tangy would balance it. You?”
“…Same.”
“Another tie, then.”
The game had its flaws, of course. Food supplies were limited, and refrigeration wasn’t always reliable.
But surprisingly, Leticia found herself enjoying the moment, eagerly anticipating my next choice.
By the end of the evening, Leticia felt lighthearted and strangely at ease.
She wasn’t just “Leticia the soldier” or “Leticia the officer.”
For once, she felt like just “Letty.”
“…One more round?” she asked with a small smile.
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Tch! 😒 missing content again. Why?
I’m pretty sure there’s no missing content this time. Or I’m just dumb