That afternoon.
After finishing their meal, the trio—Orsaga, Alison, and Golarial—were ready to part ways.
Alison and Golarial had decided to head to the Elsella Elven Kingdom.
Orsaga didn't bother with any drawn-out farewells. He simply asked the inn to prepare a carriage and had the two of them sent to Augustus's teleportation array.
Just like luxury hotels on Earth offer complimentary transport services, the inn Orsaga was staying at—being the most expensive in all of Augustus—naturally offered something similar.
The difference was, instead of a Rolls-Royce or other high-end vehicle, the finest inns in this world provided carriages drawn by high-ranking, domesticated magical beasts.
In the end, it was all about showing off one's status. The methods might differ, but the intention was the same.
Seated in the carriage pulled by powerful magical beasts, they attracted numerous envious stares from passersby.
But for Alison and Golarial, both of noble lineage, such attention was nothing new—they were long used to it.
As for Orsaga, he didn't feel anything at all. The only thing that caught his attention was the decent selection of drinks on the carriage.
After taking a couple of sips, he suddenly remembered that he once dabbled in mixology.
And as a man of craft, he believed a skill unused is a skill lost. So he casually picked up a few bottles of various liquors, poured out small portions, and after a few careful tastes, analyzed their unique characteristics. Then, based on the feedback from his refined palate, he began mixing.
On the side, Alison and Golarial watched in confusion.
They understood the concept of mixing drinks—had seen it done many times.
But the endless rotation of vials, fruits, and other strange materials in Orsaga's hands left them baffled.
Within just a minute, they saw him drop over a hundred unidentifiable ingredients into his glass.
'Could this be some kind of magical potion he's mixing?' they thought simultaneously after exchanging a glance.
A short while later, after the number of added components reached 375, Orsaga finally stopped.
Though each ingredient had been added in small amounts, the sheer number piled up enough to fill the rather large glass to the brim.
The end result was a thick, gray, murky concoction—like gelatinous sludge—that made Alison and Golarial, both devout members of the Aesthetics Association, frown with visible discomfort. There was no way they were drinking that.
And to make matters worse, a faint, odd smell began wafting from the glass. It wasn't exactly repulsive, but definitely far from pleasant.
Golarial, clearly disgusted, looked at Orsaga and said, "Just throw that thing out already…"
Orsaga simply shrugged in response.
Then, without hesitation, he raised the glass and flung its contents into the air.
Just as Alison and Golarial thought he was finally discarding the dreadful mixture, Orsaga's hand moved again.
With a fluid motion, he caught every drop back into the glass without spilling a single one.
"SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH!"
Under their puzzled gazes, Orsaga repeated this action over a thousand times in just half a minute.
The rapid swirling caused a fine mist to rise—the result of moisture being shaken loose.
And with it came a strange aroma, slowly filling the interior of the carriage.
As the scent reached their noses, Alison and Golarial's eyes lit up.
It was a fragrance they'd never encountered before—as if countless fruits had been blended in perfect harmony. It made them feel like they were standing in a vast orchard.
For elves, that was an almost irresistible temptation.
"Duang~"
With a crisp sound, Orsaga slammed the glass down onto the carriage table.
Not a single drop spilled.
Though the sudden slam made both Alison and Golarial twitch slightly, worried the glass might've cracked, their attention was quickly diverted.
Inside the glass, a brilliant swirl of colors shimmered like a spinning nebula.
Alison's gaze grew entranced. "It's… beautiful. Hard to believe that disgusting mess turned into this…"
Orsaga, unfazed, replied casually, "Tch. So shallow. Weren't you just frowning at it earlier?"
Then, without a care, he split the drink evenly into three portions.
Picking up his own glass, he began sipping it leisurely.
As the complex flavors bloomed on his tongue, he nodded with satisfaction and said smugly, "Mm. Perfect. A true masterpiece—just as expected from me."
Alison and Golarial both rolled their eyes at his shameless self-praise.
But they didn't argue.
Because—at least for elves—just the appearance of this drink alone was worth a nine out of ten.
It was practically a work of art.
Taking a small sip, the luminous drink flowed like liquid starlight. A wave of rich fruitiness combined with potent alcohol surged from their tongues straight into their brains.
Even with their strength, a faint flush colored their cheeks.
Proof that the drink hit hard.
Feeling the rush of alcohol in her head, Alison—who rarely drank—exhaled softly and said, "This stuff isn't for normal folks. One sip and they'd probably pass out drunk."
There was a hint of reproach in her tone over the drink's excessive potency.
"Of course. Normal people don't deserve to drink what I make."
Orsaga accepted the comment with a pleased expression, as if she were complimenting him.
Golarial, who enjoyed drinking, swirled her glass gently and nodded in agreement. "True. Giving this to an ordinary person would be a waste."
Even from a single sip, she could feel a wave of energy—like a mild magical boost—spreading through her body, accompanied by a pleasant buzz from the alcohol. It was an indescribably unique sensation.
Something she hadn't felt in over a century since reaching Legendary Rank.
After all, once someone reached her level of power, even potent poisons rarely had any effect—let alone alcohol.
With a teasing smile, she said, "Didn't expect you to be so good at this."
Orsaga grinned. "Nice surprise, isn't it?"
"It is."
She nodded, then asked curiously, "Did someone teach you?"
To this, Orsaga neither confirmed nor denied. Instead, he gave an intentionally cryptic reply: "This technique... is tied to a very sad story. Best not to talk about it."
As usual, he was telling the truth—just not the whole truth.
The original owner of this skill, a man named Gregg, had been turned to ash by Orsaga himself. His legacy now served others, his story reduced to a footnote. A tragic end, indeed.
Though she didn't quite understand his response, Golarial sensed he wasn't willing to say more and dropped the topic. She returned to slowly savoring the exquisite drink in her hand.
Not long after, the carriage arrived at its destination.
Though slightly tipsy, Alison and Golarial sobered up instantly as their internal mana flushed the alcohol from their systems.
They pulled back the curtain and, spotting the teleportation array in the distance, began preparing to leave.
Golarial set down her now-empty glass. Then, in front of Alison, she leaned forward and gave Orsaga a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.
Smiling, she said, "Be sure to keep in touch next time."
Clearly, she still held a grudge that Orsaga hadn't come looking for her earlier, even though he knew exactly where she was.
Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Alison's hand and stepped off the carriage.
Leaving behind only a graceful, fading silhouette.
For a moment, Orsaga stared in silence.
Then, expression calm, he gave his wineglass a swirl and said to the driver, "Alright, take us back."
____
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