Book 1: Chapter 28: Ramen and Bourbon
Book 1: Chapter 28: Ramen and Bourbon
After being seated and placing an order for drinks and some pork buns, Ryouta and Spencer sit across from one another looking over their menus to decide what they want.
“Why do you always get bubble tea?” Ryouta asks. “I mean, I know you love balls, but there’s just something weird about drinking tea full of chunky little balls.”
Spencer shrugs. “I guess I’m just used to ordering it all the time since it’s what my roommates are obsessed with. I used to order it just to fit in with them, but here I am, actually enjoying it now. At least I don’t get the exact same strawberry tea every single time we come here.”
“Strawberries make everything better. Strawberry lemonade, strawberry tea, strawberry pie, strawberry ice cream – you get the point.” Ryouta looks back down at the menu. “Should probably go with something light since we’re going out drinking after this.”
“Am I going to need to carry you home again if you drink too much?”
Ryouta blushes. “I was drunk and you know how my legs are.”
The two place their orders for food once they get their drinks and pork buns. Ten minutes later and out come two huge bowls of ramen decorated with vegetables, meat, and topped off with halves of half-boiled eggs. Ryouta always gets an extra egg.
“How’re you liking the new game so far?” Ryouta asks before twirling his chopsticks around in the ramen. That is after, of course, he takes a picture of it to upload to the group chat on Fiscord.
“It’s great, just wish I had more time to play like we used to. It’s probably the best fantasy game that we’ve ever played. Still, kind of wish that Eternal Space wasn’t dying, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”
“We probably could have not fucked up the biggest coalition in the game which led to a bunch of the most important players rage-quitting.”
“Yeah, probably. How are you liking your new harem?”
Ryouta almost spits out the chunk of pork he just put in his mouth but instead forces himself to swallow. This leads to him coughing and making a scene. He blushes again when he realizes that several heads have turned to check on him. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a harem.”
“Come on, it’s obvious that Serra likes you and you like her, and I’m pretty sure that Cass is at least beginning to get a crush on you. I’ve caught her looking at you a few times whenever you’re not paying attention to her. She even looks kind of jealous when you give Rock and Serra attention.”
“No way, I don’t get that vibe from her at all. She has a bit of a tsundere thing going on for her, but not every tsun is going to have dere. That’s like saying every girl who is ever mean to me must actually like me.”
“Do you think she would be thrusting her pole inside of you if she didn’t like you?”
Ryouta almost spits again, but this time from laughter rather than shock.
“Anyways, it’s not a harem. Yeah, I like Serra, and I think she likes me back, but that’s just – you know, like a crush. Then having Cass potentially like me doesn’t make it a harem either. A harem is like… actually dating more than one person,” Ryouta explains.
“Don’t forget about Rock. Rock is totally obsessed with you,” Spencer teases.
“Rock is a cute little pupper. If you try and make it sound weird then I’m going to…”
Spencer waits with a smile for Ryouta to finish his threat.
“Shit, you’re lucky nothing bothers you,” Ryouta grumbles.
“Don’t feel bad. It took many years of bullying to get to my level. You might catch up to me someday, young one.”
“What do you think of them anyways?”
“Serra and Cass?”
“Yeah.”
“I like them. Serra is just a little cutie but a total closet deviant, and Cass is like… she reminds me of a grumpier and girlier version of you.”
“Serra is a deviant? What?”
“I can tell these things.”
Their bowls of ramen are half empty. While Spencer continues on, Ryouta is beginning to struggle.
“I don’t know why you always get the large bowl when you never finish it,” Spencer says, sounding like a chastising mother.
“I just always think that I’ll finish it.”
Alas, Ryouta ends up not finishing his bowl of ramen. He does, however, finish his tea and two refills of it.
The waiter brings them their receipts sticking out of a volume of some Japanese manga. The character on the cover of it is the same spiky-haired ninja that was featured at the entrance of the shop.
Good on his word, Spencer slips a card into the manga volume alongside the receipt and waits to get it back before the two head onward to their next location of the night.
“It’s pretty funny how everybody used to think that robots and AIs were going to replace everything back in the day. I mean, I get that robots and all that are way better than us when it comes to manual tasks, but anything involving service – you can’t really replace the human element. Same thing with food. Food just tastes better when it’s a real person making it,” Ryouta says as the two walk down the cold street.
“Don’t forget about all the laws in place to keep humans working,” Spencer replies.
“You and your laws. Do you thank laws for everything?”
“Of course I do.”
“Makes sense for somebody trying to be a lawyer. You know that we’re the bad guys when one of us is a lawyer in the making.”
“You’re right. It isn’t the killing, raiding, pillaging, razing, nor stealing that makes us the bad guys, it is me being a lawyer.”
They look at one another and laugh. Some of the passersby on the street look concerned after hearing everything that Spencer just said, but they don’t care enough to worry about it too much.
Several stops are made between the ramen shop and the bar. Ryouta needs to sit down and rest his legs every now and then to walk long distances.
They know they have reached their destination when they see a large, fancy pirate ship hanging down over the entrance to a building. A wooden plank above the ship reads “The One-Eyed Pirate,” and next to it is a pirate wearing an eyepatch holding up a mug of beer to his lips.
A show of their IDs is required for entry. Spencer is twenty-three, and Ryouta is twenty-two, so there are no issues in allowing them in after checking on their IDs.
Inside of the establishment is a long bar against one wall with barrel-shaped stools, all sorts of pirate memorabilia decorating the walls and tables, and it is as crowded as ever. It’s mostly a younger crowd like themselves that are here. Themed bars like this always grab the attention of the younger generations more than the attention of the older ones.
“The usual spot is open. Want to sit there?” Ryouta asks.
Spencer answers by leading the way over to it.
Their usual spot is at a booth with a perfect sight of one of the bar’s ceiling-mounted televisions. They even sit next to each other rather than across from one another so that they can both watch it.
On the TV are two robots in a small arena fighting to the death. They don’t have AIs installed since that would be illegal, but they do have teams of humans controlling the robots from the sidelines. One of the robots has a flamethrower for dramatic effect, but it’s nothing against the whirling buzz-saw of its opponent.
A waitress comes over after spotting the newly-seated customers and asks them what they’d like. They decline the offer for food, as much as Ryouta does love the wings here, and get right to the drinking.
“You and your hipster craft beers,” Ryouta says.
“You and your compensating-for-your-lack-of-masculinity bourbon,” Spencer says.
It hurts, but only because it is true. Still, it makes Ryouta laugh anyway.
While the men working this bar are all dressed like badass pirates with fake swords and guns on their sides, the women are not nearly as cool looking. They are still very, very nice to look at, but they have to dress like bar wenches instead of pirates. The only other girl on duty is especially nice to look at. With a corset pushing up her already-generous bosom, stockings that trigger Ryouta’s love for legs, and beautiful golden hair that—
Their drinks are placed on the table. “Enjoy!” the much-less-aesthetically-pleasing waitress says.
Ryouta pulls out his phone and takes a picture of their drinks next to each other for the Fiscord group.
Spencer looks over at Ryouta’s phone to see what happens.
Viktor’s online status turns green and then red.
“He’s jealous,” Spencer says.
“Definitely.”
There are two types of drinkers. There are those who will casually sip their drinks and make them last, and there are those who will down drink after drink without care as if they are racing to see how fast they can get drunk.
Spencer is the former. Ryouta is the latter.
Despite Ryouta’s small size, he downs three shots of bourbon in about twenty minutes. Spencer has barely made it halfway down his glass of beer.
“You said you’re payin’, right?” Ryouta asks, looking up at Spencer with puppy eyes.
“I did, so go and get as drunk as you want,” Spencer says, knowing he will likely regret that.
Ryouta is already beginning to slur his words.
“Come on! Use your… whirly thingz and cut itsh face off!” Ryouta says to the television. Not only is his speech capability degrading, but the volume of his voice is increasing. “Heh, remember when you used to get embarrassed drinkin’ with me?”
“Trust me, I remember.”
Spencer has learned to not look around and see how much attention Ryouta draws when drinking.
The waitress comes back over with a fifth shot for Ryouta and to tell them that her coworker will be taking over for her since it is the end of her shift.
She also warns the replacement waitress to not give him any more drinks since it’s clear he’s getting to the point of no return.
Spencer is looking up at the television when he hears the camera of Ryouta’s phone click. Before he can even look at it, Ryouta is uploading the picture to the Fiscord group chat with a cheesy “wish you were here” tagline.
“You know that Serra is in the group now, right?” Spencer asks.
Ryouta looks up at him with innocent, confused eyes. “Huh?”
He looks at Spencer for a few more seconds before realizing what he meant.
“Oh, whoops,” Ryouta says before breaking into a giggle fit as he tries deleting the picture. “Look, shee, she didn’t saw it since there’s like no mess-auage from her yetz.” He holds the phone screen up to Spencer to prove his point.
Spencer decides to leave out the part about where it says that she’s typing a response, but then must have changed her mind since she stops.
She definitely saw.
“Hey there, my name is Cassandra. How are you two doing tonight?” the replacement waitress, Cassandra, says.
Luckily for Ryouta, it’s the one with the great chest and legs.
Spencer almost spits his drink when he sees her.
She looks almost exactly like Cassiel, but with a more buxom bosom. It doesn’t help that the corset she has to wear is pushing those two things up to the point where they look like they’re going to pop out at any moment.
He only sees a brief flash of disgust when she notices how he is looking at her. Spencer is sure that she gets men checking her out all the time, and it most likely looks as if he’s doing the exact same thing to her right now.
Between the golden color of her hair, her body, the look of annoyed disgust, and her name… this has to be Cassiel.
“Hey! Can I hash anothers shit – oh, whoops,” Ryouta breaks out into an uncontrollable, wheezing laughter. “I meant shot! Shot! Yeah, I want another shi—” he starts laughing even harder when he almost makes the same mistake, “shot!”
“Sorry, sir, but I believe that you have had enough. Would you like me to get you a glass of water instead?” Cassandra asks.
Ryouta pouts and whines, but eventually agrees to just get some water.
“You’ve already had six shots of bourbon. That’s more than most people in this bar can handle, so just be satisfied with that,” Spencer says, trying to make him feel better.
“Fiiiinnneee, I guess sho…”
Cassandra brings the glass of water over a minute later. Fortunately, she did not fill it all the way up. Ryouta’s drunken, shaking hands would surely be spilling it all over the table if she had.
She walks to the table a few spots ahead of theirs.
“You know, the good thing about yoush lawyers laws-y types is ‘at you maked itsh so that like… time doolotion stuffsh can’t be used to make people do more work and schools and stuff for the same pay – money – uhhh, costly as before,” Ryouta mumbles.
“Do you mean time dilation and how it’s illegal to make employees do twice as much work in VR despite only spending eight or so hours on it in reality still?” Spencer tries making sense of what Ryouta just said.
“Yeah, that!” Ryouta confirms with a laugh. “And likes, schools and stuff! Like it’d suckles so much if kids had to immerse and be like in school for way longer than normal because of VR and stuff.”
“I agree. It wouldn’t be a problem if employers and schools would simply cut the time spent in reality in half while having them spend the regular amount of time immersed in VR, but God forbid that somebody accomplishes the exact same amount of progress in less time instead of more time. It’s just so stupid how so many businesses want to essentially make their employees work sixteen hours a day in VR over eight hours in reality, but none of them are even willing to consider letting their employees work eight hours a day in VR for four hours in reality. As for schools, we should be letting kids only have to attend for four hours a day so that they get more of their childhoods to enjoy. They can still get full school days in through VR while saving their childhoods in real life, but no, the dumbasses in charge—”
Spencer looks over at Ryouta and sees him about to fall asleep.
“Ah, sorry, you know how I get when it comes to this stuff,” Spencer apologizes.
“Oh! No, sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean – I’m interested and like hearing and stuff but I think the alcohol is starting to kicked in,” Ryouta says.
“Yeah, I can tell that it’s just starting to affect you.”
“See! I’m smart.”
Spencer places his face in his palm and shakes his head.
“I need to use the bathroom, you wait here and… don’t go anywhere! Mister!” Ryouta demands as he gets up from the booth.
“You shouldn’t have drank so much tea, and try not to trip on your way there.”
“Of course I won’t trip!” Ryouta says, beginning the long walk to the opposite end of the bar. He doesn’t trip, but he does have to use tables and chairs to keep himself from falling over every few feet.
“It’s a miracle we’ve never been kicked out,” Spencer says to himself. Despite how much trouble Ryouta makes for him when drunk, he enjoys it.
Ryouta stops for a moment before heading into the bathroom. One of the girls sitting at a nearby table looks familiar. Long and silvery hair, light blue eyes, a petite figure – he realizes that she’s staring right back at him, so he hurries into the bathroom.
Naturally, he forgets that the bathroom door is push instead of pull, so he smacks his head right into it before realizing his mistake and going in.