Lovers

13

Feigning Innocence

I was thoroughly drilled for two days.

A cafe is not something to be taken lightly. Why are there so many things to memorize? I thought, “Can’t we just write down the recipes?”, but I didn’t say it out loud. I had to memorize all the recipes, but memorizing recipes alone wasn’t enough. Even frothing milk required skill, and I wished they would remove pour-over coffee from the menu. Moreover, this cafe, despite being a cover, uses four types of beans. Customers choose from these four types, and we brew coffee with their chosen beans. Why, why…

Meow―

Why are we taking care of a cat?

A stray cat kept coming to the back door, meowing. Like a cat burglar. For some reason, this cover cafe had cans of cat food prepared. Whenever this calico cat came begging, we’d open a can of food for it. There was even a bowl for feeding the cat, a white porcelain bowl. When I expressed disbelief, Viviana Dogen, an employee from Department 2, Team 1, smiled brightly.

“Mr. Schnieke, that’s expensive. Don’t break it.”

Later, I found out it was really expensive. Why use such an expensive bowl for a stray cat?

But the cat was quite affectionate and cute. Even when I, a stranger, brought its food bowl, it approached me purring as if it were natural, and rubbed its body against my legs. It was the creature that showed me the most affection in the two days I’d been coming to this cafe, and it made my heart feel warm for no reason.

Anyway.

How long do I have to stay at the cafe?

Baral told me to live the life of a diligent part-timer, coming and going until Riegel shows up, but I became anxious. From my perspective, it didn’t seem like Riegel would come. No, honestly, it was strange that he showed interest in me that day, but why are they so confident?

As I was cleaning up after customers in the cafe, two female customers entered with the sound of the chime bell.

“Hello.”

This cafe has quite a few regular customers in the neighborhood. One thing’s for sure, this cafe wasn’t hastily set up. It was a pre-existing cafe.

“Welcome.”

As I greeted them, the customers burst into laughter.

“Your shirt is pretty today.”

It was a shirt with a large flower bud printed on the upper left chest. By the time I realized this shirt had a flower print, it was too late to change. I was on the verge of being late.

I kept wondering if we needed to be this diligent for a cover cafe, but Baral was a scary manager.

“Thank you. Please place your order at the front.”

Okay.

One of the female customers passed by me, and her friend pretended to pass by but slipped her hand into my apron pocket. Whether I was flustered or not, she even winked at me before following her friend.

‘A contact?’

I thought about it for a moment, but that couldn’t be the case. It was too blatant to be a secret contact. No, she might have approached under the guise of giving me her contact information. Yeah, if I open the note, there must be some significant content inside…

There was no real blind spot for the CCTV, but there was a direction where only the back of my head would be visible. I turned my back in that direction, showing only the back of my head, and opened the note.

A woman’s name, contact information, and a heart.

Hmm, it clearly wasn’t a covert contact.

I crumpled the note and put it in my pocket, finished cleaning the hall, and entered the kitchen.

Whistle―

Viviana whistled.

“That’s already the third one.”

It’s only my third day working at this cafe, and I’ve already received three contact numbers. I wonder why.

I know the average height of Rotman men is about 175cm, but being a multi-ethnic country, the average is a bit skewed lower. In reality, walking down the street, I see quite a few men taller than me. Moreover, I’m Asian, not fitting the “bear-like man” physique preferred by Rotman women. The person who fits that best in our cafe would be Baral. But he seems to have already received all the contact numbers he could, as I was the man receiving the most contact numbers in this cafe.

Of course, excluding Viviana, the woman. Viviana was receiving actual gifts, not just contact numbers.

When I said it was strange, Viviana chuckled while polishing glasses with a squeaky sound.

“You find many things strange. It’s not that you’re unpopular because you’re Asian, but rather you’re popular because you’re Asian. Oh, and of course, your looks play a part too.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tim, I mean, Mr. Schnieke, you’re Asian. There’s almost no chance you’re from Rotman. And Rotman women avoid marrying local men. But you’re even a handsome Asian? They want to date you at least once.”

I know well why Rotman men are unpopular. Rotman men are excessively patriarchal. It seems this was accepted during the socialist era, but now it’s out of the question. Women who are as educated as men, or even more so, who earn more and have higher social positions, have turned their eyes abroad instead of to local men.

“But there are bad guys abroad too, and good people in Rotman as well. Isn’t it a bit prejudiced to assume all Rotman men are bad?”

“Mr. Schnieke, Rotman men who show signs of having a good personality get married early. Their childhood friends snatch them up as soon as they see that potential and train them for marriage. What about those without childhood friends!”

Viviana fumed, saying those people rarely divorce too.

Ah, so that’s the inside story. I decided to just keep my mouth shut. If asked whether Rotman men demand more sacrifices from their wives compared to men from other countries, I have nothing to say. If asked if I’m taking the men’s side because I’m a man, half of me would say yes, and the other half…

‘I don’t have close friends who know married life that well.’

I know one, who was a typical Rotman man. The ending of getting divorced was perfect. Our department chief, Otto Layer. I heard he got divorced after constantly trying to assert his pride against his lawyer wife. It’s absolutely forbidden to talk about Otto’s ex-wife in front of him.

“Anyway, practice hand drip coffee again. As an aspiring barista, you should be able to make hand drip coffee.”

I wonder which bastard came up with this aspiring barista setup. It’s really depressing.

I started brewing a hand drip with the cheapest beans. Ah, it’s difficult to pour a consistent amount of water into this small space! Argh!

Finally, the next day, I became able to make hand drip coffee. After brewing about 150 cups, I finally got the hang of it. But I stayed up all night at the shop practicing hand drip. Pulling all-nighters was a common occurrence, but staying up with my eyes wide open to brew coffee made me feel like my eyeballs were going to fall out.

Coincidentally, a customer ordered hand drip coffee in the morning, and when I brewed it for them, the response wasn’t bad. Viviana said, “That customer would have said it was delicious even if you had given them water with ink in it,” but surely they wouldn’t have said actual ink water was delicious.

The daily routine of brewing coffee and cleaning the hall in the busy cafe was quite dynamic.

“Americano without the coffee, please.”

“Would you like that hot or cold?”

“Cold, please.”

No matter how ridiculous the order, Viviana responds with a bright smile. Americano without coffee? As I looked on in disbelief, Viviana neatly packaged a glass of ice water and handed it to the customer.

“Here’s your cold Americano without coffee.”

I discreetly moved next to the customer and wiped the display case. It was to immediately intervene if the customer did anything strange. I had a hunch they were probably quite a troublemaker.

“Yes, thank you.”

The customer took the ice water and left without another word. As I glanced at their passing face, I saw their eyes were sunken. Ah, they weren’t a troublemaker, just not in their right mind.

It was while I was watching the customer’s back.

Ding― The door chime bell rang. The person coming in held the door for the leaving customer. As the customer left and the new person entered, we all greeted, “Welcome!”

And then I froze.

How could I forget that swaying long black hair.

He really came?

Sebastian Riegel was walking in. While people were bundled up in padded jackets, coats, and scarves, he was wearing a loose-knit sweater, black pants, and leather sneakers. It was clear. He had come by car right up to the front of this cafe and gotten out. Since there’s no place to park a car at this cafe, he must have come in a car driven by a chauffeur.

I wonder if he has a driver’s license?

Has he ever driven a car himself? Somehow it didn’t seem to fit him. He seemed like someone who had lived his entire life being waited on by others.

As I said “Welcome,” Riegel saw me and smiled with his eyes before striding over.

Oh no, don’t come here.

I held back the urge to shout at him not to come. Everyone in our shop was looking at him. I couldn’t tell if it was because he was handsome, or because his waist-length hair made him look crazy. Ah, no. He’s a handsome crazy person, so is it because he’s rare?

“Hello.”

Riegel came up to me and greeted me. His tone was sweet. If I just heard his voice, I’d think I was his boyfriend.

“Oh my, he must be gay.”

Why is my hearing so good that I can hear this right now? I heard the two female customers sitting diagonally whispering. It was the woman who had given me her phone number yesterday and her friend.

“No wonder he didn’t call…”

“If he’s gay, he should act like it! This sucks. …Don’t be upset. Let’s go eat something delicious.”

Wow, that discriminatory language is too much even if I wasn’t gay! Moreover, I’m not even gay!

The two customers roughly put down their trays on the counter, glared at me once, and left the shop. With the ding― of the chime bell, I felt like my soul was leaving too.

Riegel laughed pleasantly.

“Ah, I like gay people.”

At Riegel’s words, I looked up at him in disbelief as I was wiping a table, and he smiled broadly.

“Well, I’m not interested in most gay people.”

“It’s causing misunderstandings. Please refrain from such comments.”

“You must know someone?”

“This is my workplace, you know?”

Riegel made a “hmm” sound and looked around the cafe once. His eyes touched every corner of the cafe before returning to me.

“Is that so?”

At his meaningful voice, I found myself looking straight into his eyes. His eyes were filled with amusement. Black like an abyss. But behind those pupils was a blue color I didn’t know.

Feeling like he had noticed something, I smiled brightly instead of flinching.

“Please place your order at the front, Mr. Riegel.”

While feigning innocence as best as I could.