Lundan’s north district, a whole street of bars.
Along the road, an array of bars stood tightly side by side, and even before nightfall, the air was already thick with laughter, chatter, and the low hum of transactions.
Come nightfall, the situation escalated—this was what was known as the Lundan alley breeze.
A black high-end sedan slowly pulled over, and Wayne, with a confused expression, pushed the car door open to stare at the bar’s sign as he sunk into thought.
I had to admit, the name was quite fitting for the place.
"It does feel pretty fallen..."
Wayne turned around emotionlessly and whispered to Mona beside him, "I still feel something’s off; this isn’t a place for angels. It must be that I’ve been opening the Bible wrong. Let’s go back and try again."
He’d said something similar more than once on the way here, and Mona also found it absurd but still cajoled him, "Boss, now that we’re here, let’s go in and take a look first."
As the duo pushed through the door, they were greeted by a faint smell of alcohol and tobacco, the air slightly murky.
To soft music, two resident singers swayed on stage, while below, bartenders with an array of styles wore uniform outfits, serving drinks and snacks to the patrons.
Judging by the patrons’ attires, this was clearly an upscale bar with rather substantial prices.
With a place as big as a forest, you get all kinds of birds—given Lundan’s population, any non-mainstream aesthetic seemed completely reasonable.
Enough to sustain a bar.
"True to Lundan, the essence of democracy is embracing all diversities, yet another useless gesture learned."
Wayne continued with his internal critique as he surveyed the room. After rinsing his eyes, he exclaimed with heartfelt sincerity, "Mona, you are truly beautiful!"
Mona offered a slight smile and pointed toward a booth in the corner—their target was there. Deal with the business at hand first.
As for her beauty, that could be studied at leisure back home.
The booth sat in a shadowed corner, the lighting dim to allow patrons to better appreciate the unique traits of the Fallen Angel Bar, thanks to a specially mounted wall lamp.
Under the light, a handsomely featured young man chattered animatedly, clutching the hands of two bartenders, seemingly showing them palm readings.
Strictly speaking, Kel wasn’t exactly a devoted tanker, he liked everything else except for what was considered conventionally beautiful.
Tanks were just within his definition of aesthetically appealing!
Like the two bartenders beside him—one fat and greasy, a mortal coil, the other skinny as a rake as if perennially short of oxygen.
"Love isn’t about looks. Some are meant to be passersby, maybe for just one night, or possibly only fifteen minutes..."
Kell held their hands, his eyes brimming with passion as he declared, "We don’t need to obsess over fleeting loves, life’s journey is long. To cherish these beautiful memories and chase the next love affair, that’s the greatest homage to love."
"Is that your reason for always showing up in those vice raids?"
Wayne approached the booth, unable to bear to look, turned to Mona instead.
Our father in heaven, she’s as beautiful as an angel descended to the Mortal World!
As Kel gazed affectionately at the ’tank’ wrapped in his arms, he heard a familiar voice. He lifted his head, surprised, "Wayne, what brings you here, finally realized what true beauty is?"
Kell’s glance shifted to Mona beside Wayne, and his face changed dramatically, turning ashen in an instant.
The bartender who looked like she was gasping for air deftly grabbed a trash bin from under the table and placed it before Kell.
Some guests were of that sort, chatting one minute, throwing up the next.
Kel retched miserably, showcasing his lunch menu.
No offense, but by Fallen Angel Bar standards, Mona was undoubtedly an ugly duckling.
That’s a compliment, right? It must be a compliment.
Wayne reached the peak of speechlessness, pulled out a few bills with the Queen’s portrait, and handed them to the love-struck bartenders, "My friend, chat with him for a moment, please wait over there for a while."
As it turned out, love paled in comparison to the Queen. Seeing Wayne’s generosity, the bartenders received the money with joyful smiles, waved goodbye, and left Kell, who was reluctant to part.
"Wayne, what are you doing..."
Kell wiped his mouth with a napkin, blocking Mona from view, and frowningly offered a bill with the Queen’s face, "Hurry up, don’t scare me like that."
"Kel, is that how you talk to your sister?" Wayne said with a tease.
"Just kidding, you took it seriously."
Kel adjusted for a few seconds, reminding himself to accept the world’s unevenness. For every heart-throb, there was someone like Mona—a repellent to beauty and desire.
With that thought, he began to accept Mona, "No blame on you, Nature took your beauty and gifted it to others. You’re innocent."
"Boss, let’s go back, we must have got the wrong person," Mona said through gritted teeth, itching to throw a punch at Kel.
"We’re already here; he’s your brother, after all."
Wayne had known for a while that Mona and Kel were not actually siblings; the idea of a recon family was just a pretext for Mona to get close to him. But that said, he owed the acquisition of such an outstanding secretary to Kel’s influence.
"Kel, the air here is dreadful, let’s talk outside."
"Fine, you’ve got five minutes."
"No problem, just five minutes."
The scene shifts, the black high-end sedan leaves the bar street.