Chapter Cornelia: Crescent Sun

Ravishing Flower - Lone but not Lonely Wolf

Today, I just got accepted for a date. Next thing I know, hounds of thugs and bandits are rallying up in impatience just to let their blades skewer me into pieces while I'm here down in my legs, crippled, bleeding, and cornered on an edge of a cliff.

Real wild, I know. Thus begs the million gold question: how in the devil did I end up in this bizarre, screwed up situation? Let's rewind back at the start, shall we?

~~~

After days of long, peripatetic adventures, I have just opened the oaken door connected and leading to the renowned pub of the city.

Aaaand the very first thing my eyes are set on inside is the people of the pub rounding up around and betting their life savings on which drunk guy will win a slapping contest but with their genitals.

Oh, wait, never mind. Scratch that back, they're actually using some rubber bongs that are strapped around their waists with a rope.

Neverminding that, this place reeks of alcohol, no surprise.

On the left are the bards singing a song about the fragrance of the "genitals" they love to smell. It's a song about flowers. Pretty poetic and catchy. And on the right are another set of drunkards crying and bawling out of love, of debt, and probably of their whole lives. Relatable and nothing wrong there.

Yeah, this pub is as normie as it gets, nothing new and special. Either way, I just casually entered and sauntered straight to the counter.

"Hmm?" for reasons unexplained, those who are idly doing nothing else stared at me with bleeding daggers. I wonder why.

Maybe cos I'm underage? I heard the age rating in this kingdom is too high.

"Ah, señora!" I raised my hand as I casually called for the waitress in a maid attire holding an empty wooden tray.

"Your finest bourbon on the rocks, served with the freshest of your love, please."

"Sir, you must have been mistaken. This is not a pub this is our house."

"Did I stutter, o beautiful maiden?"

"You aren't even old enough to be drinking, you little shit."

"The only number you should worry about is the price I'm paying, no age."

After my "charming" wink, the lady then left me as I sit upon a wooden chair made from quality wood. Perhaps to get me the order I asked of her. Or maybe not. Yeah, definitely not.