Who was that person?
That question had been circling in my mind ever since I saw Elara step into the bar. And not just her, I couldn't help wondering about everyone else too. Weren't we all just hoping to close early and go home?
Yet the moment Elara entered, the atmosphere shifted.
The frustration that had hung in the air only moments ago vanished. Faces brightened, excitement sparking openly, smiles spreading across each pair of lips.
Even Elara herself was smiling. In a way I had never seen before. A smile that seemed to fill the room with warmth.
The chef rushed out from the kitchen, his assistant right behind him.
"Director, you've come."
Following their lead, I snapped out of my thoughts and bowed as well. I forced a polite smile, but unease lingering beneath it. I would have much preferred a call. Or a text. The atmosphere made me feel unnecessarily intimidating.
And my mind dragged up the humiliating memory of our last meeting in the bathroom... with her shoes.
"What brings you here?" Christina asked.
Elara's gaze flicked toward me briefly before returning to the manager. I stayed near the back, where I felt safest, watching quietly and trying not to draw attention to myself.
"Why else? I came for a drink. Or is my timing bad?"
"Ah, just a little," Christina replied. "We were actually about to close since we didn't expect any more customers today."
Elara paused, then glanced toward the window. Rain was still beating heavily against the glass.
"Hm. Then let's do that. As Manager Gauge said—business seems to be done for today."
Christina smiled and stepped closer, closing the small distance between them.
"Am I allowed to do that now?" she asked. "Of course, we'll follow whatever the director decides, but…" She subtly linked her arm with Elara's, her tone turning playful. "Our profits today were rather low. Would you mind helping us out just a little?"
Elara paused before shaking her head faintly. A smile tugging at her lips and widening ever so slightly.
"This is why I like you. You really know how to milk people."
At her words, Christina's spirits visibly lifted. She called me over right away, and I obeyed without hesitation, flipping the sign so that Closed now hung clearly outside the door.
The moment Elara announced she was treating everyone, what followed could only be described as an unexpected party.
Christina encouraged everyone to order whatever they wanted, price be damned. The chef and the bartender were instantly swamped, moving quickly as orders poured in from every direction. The piano lady was the most relentless of them all, continuously ordering drinks and nearly every dish on the menu, with no sign of slowing down.
Before long, the table was completely covered in food and glasses. Elara even urged them to order more.
Somehow, without me noticing when or how, I ended up sitting right beside her. Making my shoulder visibly stiffened.
Everyone else was laughing and cheering, their voices light and carefree. Sitting among them, I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb. And yet, strangely enough, no one seemed to notice me at all.
Still, I wanted to blend in. To keep up, I reached for a drink. Just as my fingers brushed the glass, something cool touched my cheek.
I startled and turned my head. Elara was right there.
She held a glass delicately in her hand, one leg crossed over the other. Her elbow rested on the table, her head tilted slightly as she leaned into her palm. A few strands of her long black hair had slipped free, framing her face, while the rest was tucked neatly behind her ear.
She was dressed the same as before—black trousers, a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal smooth, pale skin.
I lifted my gaze, meeting her eyes for a brief moment.
Then, as if she hadn't noticed me at all, she looked away.
"Come to think of it," Elara said casually, "have you done her introduction yet?"
"What introduction?" Christina laughed, clearly tipsy, waving her hand dismissively. "If you do that, she'll run away before the night's even over."
I felt a quiet rush of gratitude. The thought of singing in front of everyone made my stomach twist.
But Elara didn't seem convinced. "Still, we should do it now."
At her words, everyone turned to look at me.
I forced an awkward smile and waved my hands nervously. "I—I'm not very good at singing."
"What about dancing, then?" Elara said, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. "I've seen you at the club a few times."
Her gaze lingered just long enough to make my skin prickle—captivating, and unsettling all at once.
The piano lady leaned forward, her tone teasing. "Wait—what? You go to clubs?"
Before long, everyone piled on, teasing me and encouraging me at the same time. I let out a resigned sigh and rubbed my face, the weight of their attention pressing down on me.
"So if you can't sing, then dance," Elara said lightly.
I had never really danced before. At most, I had swayed a little in the middle of a drunk crowd, and that hardly counted as dancing. I was certain I would be terrible at it.
"I'd rather sing," I said.
The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. But I had no choice.
I stood up as the others began chanting my name. My steps felt sticky as I walked toward the stage and stopped behind the microphone.
There weren't many songs I knew well. But there was one.
A song I had memorized completely.
Back at the orphanage, it had been the head's favorite. She had insisted every child learn it, almost like a national anthem. Since then, it had been carved into my head whether I liked it or not.
I closed my eyes and lowered my head, as if trying to hide from everyone watching me.
As the first notes left my lips, Alex came to mind.
He hated that song. Hated it to the point that even hearing me hum it would set him off. He would glare at me and demand to know why I liked it so much. I was sure he already knew the answer. It was simple.
It was the only song I truly knew.
At first, I tried to sing properly. I wanted to do it well, to get through it without embarrassing myself. But as I went on and caught myself making small mistakes, I gave up on trying to be perfect.
I just wanted it to end.
When I finished, I opened my eyes slowly, bracing myself for laughter or teasing.
Instead, applause filled the room.
Cheers followed.
For a moment, I just stood there, stunned. I told myself it had to be because they were drunk. Or maybe they hadn't even heard me properly.
But then—
"I think we should appoint her as our vocalist."
The clapping sounded genuine. That comment from piano lady, though? That definitely felt like teasing.