"35 bucks." Behind the run-down, yellowed counter, a hook-nosed waiter in a white shirt and suspenders concocted a cocktail with skilled movements. He easily poured the solution into the glass before him.
Pad-like objects floated in the faint reddish wine. It gave the cocktail an appearance of some half-congealed blood.
A young man in a gray windbreaker stood before the counter. He ruffled his messy, short golden hair. He slid the small change across the counter, picked up the glass, and took a few sips.
"What do the higher-ups want? There are many eyes in the Platinum Academy. The had a shot, and they blew it. Now, they're coming here for my help. This is difficult, the reward won't be enough…"