'Cocktail Potion' by Transworld Transfer Bartenders

A glass placed over a large counter.

Its presence is so powerful that it conflicts with the size of the glass.

The aroma rising from the yellow, swinging liquid surface does have the characteristics of Absinthe, while also having two other characteristic aromas combined.

"... that you can drink this?

Isotoma still keeps her butt in, glancing at her.

Where did the momentum go when I first drank Absinthe.

"It's okay. That's because Mr. Isotoma likes" Gini "and" Old ", which add up to two-thirds."

"That's the problem... no, I'm a man too. Are you ready?"

I guess the one who's always butted in thought I wouldn't be dressed up.

Somehow, he wants to dress up in a place like this.

Especially in front of Phil and Sally, who have taken care of him from the beginning.

In this place where these two gaze together, I tie my mouth when I say it doesn't deserve to be on the run.

"I'll have it."

He reached for the glass as he engraved a wrinkle over his age on his expression.

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

Isotoma is slightly confused by the scent of fluttering through her nose.

Sure, it's not as shocking as it was when it was straight, but still the system is undisputed, that scent that made me hesitate to swallow.

(... Yep. If you're a man, get ready!

So Isotoma stepped forward.

Getting lost doesn't solve anything. Instead, the more time passes, the less I can stomp. Because I knew that empirically.

And try to include it in your mouth, it's the first surprise.

"You have a very light palate."

In one of his words, the eyes of the bartender who made that cup gleam with joy.

As far as I can tell, there's not a single thing gentle about the ingredients used in this cocktail.

There is no splitting material in it, Gini, Old - and Absinthe.

There's no way you can expect a gentle taste or anything like that in this cup, where everything is incorporated in equal quantities.

Of course, there will be that Isotoma herself is accustomed to strong cocktails.

But even without it, the tongue was much softer than I imagined.

The taste of Absinthe, which I thought was sweet and queasy, is understated and glamorous, followed by a deep, whiskey roundness and a crisp cut of gin.

A relaxed flavor shake that gently tickles your tongue slides through your mouth.

But such an early feeling was only one hand in keeping the mouth alert.

If you continue to drink it with your first impression, you will gradually become aware of yourself that fits during the procedure.

One bite and two more, it finally reminds me that this liquid has a tremendous amount of magic.

Its cold, palatable flavour easily paralyzes the tongue.

And in the tongue I was used to cutting, the liquid suddenly wobbled violently.

If you meditate your eyes to indulge in the flavor, the intense flavor will fall from the inside out to the nose.

I felt it on the palate, keep those ratios for Absinthe, Gini and Old.

The three with intense impressions make intense self-assertions and shake down stereotypes.

Quiet at the beginning, vibration of the taste of fate where alarmed.

By the time I realized it was too late. In Isotoma's head, which was even somewhat drunk, these three stormed around in his mouth playing intense harmony.

Wait, give me time to calm down.

Even so, the hour is already late, and the swing in your mouth keeps spreading without knowing where it will fit.

I felt clammy and intoxicated and even had the illusion that I was going to fall like this.

In such a fold, the chaser has grown steadily.

If Isotoma turns her eyes, the bartender as usual says, "You need it, right?" I smile whenever I say so.

Take it and fill your mouth with water, laughing bitterly. Until then, intense vibrations have subsided, leaving a slightly absinthe aftertaste.

But then the taste was distant earlier. I don't think it's the same as that.

The richness of Old and the flavor of Gini had transformed the flavor of Absinthe, which I thought was bad, into something familiar to the extent that I might enjoy it.

Gorgeous, deep, sharp.

The taste of a cocktail that pummeled together such conflicting elements took root in Isotoma's head.

It pushed his bad consciousness away and left a huge shake at the heart of the sentiment of interest.

Isotoma tells her thoughts quietly, regretting that she had just fitted in during the bartender's surgery for a moment.

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

"Oh. I can drink this, too. Not bad."

"Thank you"

I was thanking Isotoma for what she said out of her mouth.

I have a more hospitable self than I thought. Apparently, I'm more relieved of his assessment than I assumed.

Think of it, the first time you opened the store, it was Isotoma who drank the cocktail and went 'yummy' the most.

I was wondering if you could tell me that the last 'liqueur' that comes to this store is delicious, too.

I finally walked past it and felt like the first time a cocktail was... no, I was admitted to it.

Isotoma laughs niggly as she tries to figure out what she felt from my expression like that.

"I just don't know what you'd have said if it wasn't for me, you know? Amateurs don't drink this."

"Of course it is. Because it's specially made by looking at Isotoma."

"I don't want to change my complexion."

With my smiling face, Isotoma surrenders and raises her hand.

Then I included another bite, and then I sighed quietly.

"You know, Phil Boy and Sally. If you can't stare too much, it'll light up."

I was told that Phil and Sally, who had been watching his glass more than just looking at Isotoma for a long time, were frightened.

"Kee, I'm worried about you"

"I'm sorry, too"

Shake cocktails made using Absinthe.

That, too, is one dish with two or more spirits.

I am personally delighted that my apprentice is concerned about what it will taste like.

But as a bartender, it's a bit silly and behaving badly to look at the cup you serve to your customers.

"Ha. You're an enthusiastic apprentice, Master?

"I'm sorry. I'll educate you later."

"Fine. Fine. Can't these kids have a drink?"

To study, I laughed and Isotoma tried to order for me, but stopped.

I'd appreciate it if you could say that, but I don't have the stock of Hate and Gini.

Two, when I was once a rookie, the look of a customer who let me drink until I crumbled passed my brain.

"Yes, that's our downfall..."

"Fine. Fine. You said mean things."

"Hey, it's not funny"

I remember the old days as I bowed my head sorry.

That's when I kept thinking about sales and cocktails. Sometimes, I thought I didn't like drinking.

But I never thought about how a customer who was telling me that felt.

How rude that was. Now, I was feeling it.

"Speaking of which, I've been wondering about that blackboard since earlier, is something wrong?

"Uh, we have a situation."

Phil asks me while he cares about the blackboard on the counter. I'm giving you a big fat and fresh announcement, you must have been watching the timing of your hearing.

I covered up and explained what happened today.

Phil, who was listening to the explanation, shares his thoughts at the end as he strikes a moderate hammer.

"Heh, that was tough."

"That's right. But Phil can't afford it either."

"Huh?"

I said mean to Phil, who answered with a look like another HR.

"Whatever, this fresh campaign lasts all week. Goddamn it, Fresh Hell tomorrow and the day after, huh?

Gabba and Phil changing from a sleepy look until then to a critical face.

Sally, finally broken from the curse of the wash, laughs joyfully as she follows my words.

"Yes, Phil. Maybe he's been doing better lately because he's got a little better reputation for cocktails than I do, but I'm better off with fresh cocktails."

"Sally, let's try not to lose to Phil any more"

"... Yes"

Moderately fond of Sally, who was a bit of a pitiful way of winning.

Recently, regular female customers - especially from around Iberis - have been overtly compared with the taste of cocktails and are in fact sarees that are plain dented.

I'll take care of her later, and I'll turn to Phil.

"Anyway, it won't be a date tomorrow, but I'm going to be busy. Be prepared."

"Yes."

To my words, Phil tightened his expression and gave me a motivational nod back.

The scene is full of smudges and a smiling look at our mentorship.

But there was only one girl who wasn't mixed up in the air.

When it came together in a good way, Isotoma burst into something we were probably all concerned about.

"So, Miss Cravel over there. Aren't you asleep?

I was fine around drinking the [tomato arrangement] I served, Cravel.

But now she was silent with her neck gutted, like a threaded doll.

I'm holding an empty glass in my hand, trying to throw it out on the counter, and I don't move a thing.

Speaking of straight balls, I was asleep.

"... well, it's Absinthe"

Absinthe is also a well-known alcoholic beverage for its high degrees.

On average, about 55 to 70 degrees. Even if it's only 30 ml, it'll be as much alcohol as a glass of beer.

If it were, it would possess medium and intense power in potion as well.

Typically, if a customer is about to sleep in a bar, the bartender promptly encourages them to go home. But if that's the two of us, sometimes I dare to leave you alone.

Because I can ask my people to take care of me afterwards.

Phil gently shrugged Cravel's shoulder with a slightly frightened look.

"Cravel? Are you okay?"

"... Huh. Dear Phil...? Oh, my God, I'm not sleepy at all!

We all laugh without a voice at Cravel's, no matter what we think, excuse.

As a matter of fact, even after waking up your body, your eyes tend to fade from time to time.

Phil the Bitter Laughter kindly suggests with the strength of Cravel.

"Shall we go home? I'm sorry I had to go out with you."

"Yes, no. If Phil invites you, I'll give you wherever you are."

"I'm glad to hear that. Tell me you can't do it when you can't."

"... Yes"

It was more like that of adults and children than of exchanges between men and women.

All the stubborn and unreliable surfaces are the phils to the eye, but this way they may be growing a lot more than they used to be.

Thinking about it, I was happy, but somehow lonely. Is this the feeling of a master watching his disciples nest?

"Goodbye, Mr. President. It's a little early."

I laugh kindly at Phil's sorry face.

"It's good. Never mind. In the first place, you kinda couldn't do it for me and bring me 'Absinthe', right? Thank you very much."

"Uh, hey, what's up?"

And I thought I'd grown up earlier, how can you look like a child when you're happy to thank me.

I knew you hadn't, but I have this strange sense of security again, which is the opposite of what I just had.

Is that fulfilling, feeling good emotions as a master or not?

As a master, I was forced to think that I was still immature.