14
Because he looks like a handsome rich man
Riegel stood in front of the counter, staring intently at the menu. He was being extremely cautious while looking down at the acrylic menu board he had picked up, even though he was only going to order one drink.
As a result, a female customer who ended up standing behind him had to wait, and when I asked, “Mr. Riegel, may I take the order of the customer behind you first?”, the female customer herself declined with a smile.
“It’s okay.”
“No, ma’am, I think he might take a while-”
“I. Said. It’s. Fine.”
Her voice was smiling, but her eyes weren’t smiling at all. She seemed determined to stand behind him and admire his figure, whether his order took 10 minutes or an hour. I unconsciously looked back at Viviana. She had tactfully retreated to the machine instead of the counter, allowing me to interact more with Riegel. When Viviana caught my glance, she blinked to ask what I needed, so I blinked back.
‘I thought Rotman men weren’t popular!’
Riegel is obviously a Rotman man. He’s a Rotman man whether you look at him doing a forward roll or a backward roll, so why is he so popular? I thought Rotman women disliked men from their own country?
When I questioned with a suspicious look, Viviana slipped behind me and whispered.
“The smell of money and his face.”
“Wow, what a dirty world.”
Viviana disappeared, giggling.
Well, he is handsome. And the smell of money is truly overwhelming enough to overshadow even that appearance…
Rotman winters are very harsh. But entering a cafe like this in just knitwear is not something one can easily do. It means a car must have dropped him off right in front, and conversely, a car will surely come to pick him up right in front.
“Hmm, I’ve decided. I’ll have lemon tea.”
The menu choice wasn’t very manly.
“Lemon tea, order received. If you wait, soon-”
“Not sweet.”
“Lemon tea, not sweet, order received.”
But is that even possible? It’s just hot water poured over lemon syrup, right?
I glanced at Viviana, and she shook her head. I immediately returned a smile to Riegel.
“I’m sorry. We can’t make lemon tea unsweetened. Next time you visit-”
“Cafe latte.”
You should have said that from the start.
“Cafe latte. Would you like that hot?”
“Yes.”
“Please check the screen and confirm your order. One hot cafe latte, is that correct?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“It’s 307 leed. For payment-”
“By card.”
Here comes the card.
I took the credit card Riegel handed me and swiped it through the left one of the two credit card readers at the counter. This reader, which is not normally used, is solely for stealing Riegel’s credit information.
“307 leed, thank you. Please wait, and we’ll call you when it’s ready.”
Hmm.
The card reader surely shouldn’t be visible from Riegel’s viewpoint, and even if it were, it would just look like an ordinary card reader, but Riegel keeps giving meaningful snorts. My heart keeps skipping a beat.
When I brought him the cafe latte, he asked for a chat, so I sat across from him. Normally, Baral wouldn’t allow sitting across from a customer and chatting, but Riegel is an exception. Making contact with that man is my top priority, after all.
“Has there been any particular contact from the Security Bureau?”
There has been, a lot.
Thinking of all the ‘particular contacts’ I’ve received so far makes me want to laugh bitterly, but I just brushed it off casually.
“There hasn’t been any. I was grateful back then.”
“I’m glad nothing happened. Were you surprised to see me here?”
Only then did I realize I had forgotten to say the line, “How did you know about this place…”. I should have said something like that! Ah, it’s because of those customers whispering about him being gay earlier!
“I was surprised, but you did say you lived nearby.”
This place is only a 30-minute walk from my apartment (or rather, the place set up as my apartment). And when Riegel dropped me off there, didn’t he say he “lived nearby”? So it’s not unreasonable to assume it’s around here. When I said I wasn’t surprised, Riegel made that “Hmm” sound again.
Is this a habit of his? It keeps making my heart pound.
“And I’m not really the type to get surprised or anything.”
I decided to push the narrative that I naturally don’t show much change in expression. Riegel stared at my face for a moment and replied, “Is that so?” Was it a reply? Or was he asking? I’m not sure. It was a somewhat ambiguous tone. It seemed like he was speaking to me, but also to himself.
“Was being a barista always your dream?”
Riegel asked, crossing his legs. His legs were long and tall, so he had to cross them outside the table.
“I used to do martial arts, but that’s not something you can keep doing as you get older.”
“What kind of martial arts did you do?”
Ah, I can sense where this is going. He’s done a background check on me and is now verifying the information with me.
“Just a bit of everything. You know, I trained in whatever was necessary as I stood in the ring to make money.”
“A bit of everything?”
Of course, I’ve read the background file set up for me, and according to the file…
“Well, boxing for one.”
I was supposed to be someone who was an amateur boxer before transitioning to a mixed martial arts fighter. The setting was that I had been in the boxing world since childhood, but of course, I had done all the necessary exercises for mixed martial arts.
Even as I spoke, I felt a bit uncomfortable.
I’m not completely incapable of boxing, but I’m not sure of my skill level. My boxing skills are only used when my team members and I punch each other out of boredom. The one who taught me boxing was one of my team members, Jay. That damn bastard who’s currently ignoring my messages.
Jay said he learned in his home country, N country, but it’s one of the top five most closed-off countries in the world, so I don’t know if he taught me proper boxing. That’s why I was hesitant to call myself a boxer. I can have a decent conversation about boxing, but I know almost nothing about being a ‘boxer’.
“Aren’t you afraid of getting hit?”
“I’d rather not get hit, but I’m not scared.”
“Then what are you scared of?”
Bullets?
Smiling vaguely while searching for an answer, I made something up.
“Ghosts and stuff?”
“You’re afraid of ghosts?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“I thought you wouldn’t be afraid of such things. That’s unexpected. Why are you scared?”
“Because my fists don’t work on them?”
Riegel burst out laughing at my words. His face looked languid as he laughed as if impressed. This man seems to look a bit languid rather than hearty or cheerful no matter how he laughs. His way of speaking also seems to drag a bit at the end, and overall, he has a somewhat dreamy air about him.
He’s not the type I often encounter in my life. Our industry values ‘discipline’, after all.
Ding―
At the sound of the door opening, I glanced at the entrance and then turned my gaze back to Riegel. He was resting his chin on his hand, staring at my face. As if something really interesting was smeared on my face.
“Is there something on my face?”
I asked suspiciously, thinking it couldn’t be, and Riegel tapped the corner of his own lips, tap, tap.
Oh, really?
I rubbed the corresponding part of my lips with the thick part of my palm and looked at him, but he shook his head.
“Still there.”
At his words, I tried wiping with my thumb this time. Still, nothing came off.
Ah, what is it? As I frowned, Riegel’s hand approached. I unconsciously leaned my face towards it.
Why won’t it come off?
At that moment, Riegel’s finger seemed to wipe near my lips and then lightly caressed my lips as it passed. I felt a sudden chill and pulled my body back.
What was that just now?
It was when I blinked.
“Mr. Riegel, it’s time for you to leave.”
A man who walked up to us addressed Riegel. When I turned to check, it was the person who had just entered the cafe. I thought he was a customer, but it seems he was with Riegel. When I looked at him, he smiled and nodded slightly. I smiled and greeted him back, but the problem is…
I don’t recognize this face?
If he’s Riegel’s bodyguard, I know the faces of all four of them. How could I not? We were on the same transport bus together. But this man is definitely someone I’m seeing for the first time.
A bodyguard?
No, he’s too thin to be a bodyguard. No muscles, and he’s wearing dress shoes. And the shoelaces are neatly tied in a bow. Bodyguards don’t usually wear dress shoes. And they don’t tie them in pretty bows like that. It would be troublesome if the laces came undone.
Judging by his form-fitting suit, he’s not concealing any weapons. He doesn’t look like he’s in a physical profession. Then is he someone hired? For what purpose?
Well, we’ll soon find out. Department 2 will scrutinize him thoroughly.
Riegel stood up from his seat.
“This is enjoyable, but it’s a shame. I have some business today.”
Ah.
I just made a vague sound and nodded. Honestly, I wasn’t the least bit disappointed. But then he said,
“If the coffee is good, I’ll come again.”
Riegel said in a soft voice and then looked at me quietly. As if I should say something in response.
What should I say in response to “I’ll come again if the coffee is good”? I understand the atmosphere. It’s a flirtatious atmosphere. So I clearly understand that it’s my turn to respond wittily to Riegel’s words, but the problem is…
How am I supposed to make that witty response?
If it were someone like Lee, he would have given a smooth answer, but I don’t know what to say. Even if I keep telling myself in my mind, ‘I am Lee Martin, I am Lee Martin,’ I still can’t think of a plausible thing to say, so in the end…
“Thank you. Please come again.”
That’s all I could manage to say. Riegel burst out laughing and then nodded.
“Alright, I will come again.”
He said that and walked out to the exit, accompanied by the man who had come to get him. People openly stared at him as he left. He was definitely an eye-catching man. First of all, that long, flowing hair really drew attention, and even without that, he had a good physique. He had broad shoulders and long limbs. And if you looked closely, you could tell he had quite a well-trained body.
Above all, I could see the shoes Riegel was wearing. He was wearing sneakers like the bodyguards from SAAD, and had tied them with their characteristic knot to prevent them from coming undone. Of course, Sebastian Riegel probably isn’t from SAAD, but it gives the impression that he might have received professional training from them…
