The tavern was still bustling with noise and laughter, even though it was well into the night. Tankards clinked, adventurers hollered over stories that were 90% lies, and the smell of beer, sweat, and roasted meat filled the air.
Amon wiped a mug with a damp cloth and sighed, "Just two more hours and I’m free from this madness."
Fate, however, had other plans.
Suddenly, the tavern doors creaked open. A gust of cold air swept in, and with it... a hooded figure.
The moment they stepped inside, the atmosphere froze.
Literally.
Laughter stopped. Glasses paused mid-air. Even the guy who was in the middle of bragging about slaying a two-headed bear shut up.
A heavy, oppressive pressure filled the room.
Nobody could see their face, but everyone could feel it.
Whoever that was—they weren’t normal. Not even close. The kind of not-normal that could probably kill you by breathing too hard.
That person didn’t even release aura yet we feel pressure.
The hooded figure moved with eerie grace and took a seat at a lone round table in the corner. Slowly, the noise returned as the tavern’s customers wisely decided to pretend the new arrival didn’t exist.
Amon glanced around.
No one moved.
Not a single waitress or waiter was willing to go near them.
Not a single waitress or waiter made a move to go near the figure. Even Leon, who normally loved to flirt with any breathing creature, was conveniently busy cleaning the same glass for the past three minutes.
"Of course it’s gotta be me," Amon muttered, wiping the nervous sweat from his forehead. "You guys are so lucky that I am so brave."Offcourse as he was anything but brave.
With shaky steps and a smile faker than noble tax promises, he approached the table.
"Uh, may I take your order, esteemed... guest?" he asked, trying not to sound like he was going to wet himself.
He still couldn’t tell whether the person was male or female—only a few strands of vibrant orange hair peeked out from beneath the hood.
Then, the figure spoke.
"A full bottle of Blazing Basilisk."
Amon’s eyes widened. Her voice was cold, indiffernt yet beautiful. A woman. And not just any woman.
She was too strong.
Blazing Basilisk wasn’t just any drink. It was made from the venom of a Rank 5 basilisk, and designed for people whose idea of fun was drinking something that could melt your intestines. Only people with absurd mana control could handle it without ending up in the afterlife.
’Why is she here of all places? Shouldn’t she be drinking gold-infused cocktails in a noble lounge or something?!’
"Y-Yes, ma’am. I’ll check with the owner to see if we have it."
She simply nodded.
Amon hurried to the counter like he was escaping death. "Mr. Ellias, do we have any Blazing Basilisk in stock?"
The old man blinked. "Hah, small place like ours? Of course not. That’s high-end liquor—wait..."
He disappeared into the backroom.
Moments later, he returned with a green-glass bottle glowing faintly with menace.
"I was gifted this years ago by a rich noble bastard friend of mine," Ellias said. "Never thought it’d come in handy. Now go serve that customer. And don’t screw this up."
Amon laughed nervously. "Why do you sound like if I spill this, I’ll die?"
"Because you probably will."
’Great. Love that for me.’
Back at the table, he poured the drink carefully into a glass and placed it in front of the mysterious woman. She gave no reaction, just sipped silently while the world continued spinning.
---
Two hours later, the tavern had cleared out.
Except for her.
And she was drunk.
Like, swaying-side-to-side-while-humming-to-herself drunk.
Leon leaned in and whispered, "Hey, Amon... tell her we’re closing."
Amon blinked. "Why me?"
Mr. Ellias chimed in, not even trying to hide behind the counter, "You served her, you tell her."
"Cowards," Amon muttered.
He approached the table like a man approaching his funeral.
"Ma’am, we’re, uh, closing now. If it’s not too much trouble, maybe... you know... head home?"
The woman lifted her hooded head slowly, revealing a tiny, drunken smile. "Boy~ help me get to my car~ I can’t walk."
Her voice was dangerously sweet—the kind of sweet that made your spine shiver. And her body?
Well, let’s just say when she leaned on him, Amon experienced both joy and regret at the same time. Dangerous curves and the overpowering scent of basilisk booze were not a great combo.
"I’ll get you there safely, ma’am," he said, helping her up.
She clung to his arm, giggling like a schoolgirl and humming a song that may or may not have been a war chant. Together, they stumbled toward the main road.
At the edge of the street stood a sleek, black luxury mana-car, glowing runes pulsing on its frame.
’Never thought I would get to see such luxurious mana car at this area’Amon thought.
Though car’s design is similar to those from his past life but the car’s from 19th Century, a vintage britan car.
The driver’s door opened, and a tall woman in a black suit stepped out, her face stone-cold professional.
"Looks like your ride’s here," Amon said, relieved he could finally go home.
But of course, fate wasn’t done screwing with him.
"Wait~" the drunk powerhouse said. She rummaged inside her cloak and pulled out a golden ticket that shimmered under the streetlight.
"Here. A reward for helping me~" she said, pressing it into his hand with a giggle. "That’s a pass to Arcadia Academy. Use it well."
Before he could ask literally anything, the suited woman helped her into the car, gave Amon a polite nod, and they drove off like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Amon stood there, frozen.
Holding a golden ticket that could change his life.
"...What the actual hell just happened?"
He looked down at the ticket again, blinking.
A free pass... to the most elite academy in the kingdom... handed to him by a drunk goddess of death.
And here he thought his night was going to end with mop duty.
"Well," he said, tucking the ticket safely into his pocket, "I guess getting drunk people home is character development."
And with that, Amon walked off into the night—tired, confused, and slightly aroused. But hey, that’s just another day in his bizarre life.
And somewhere deep down, a strange feeling stirred in his chest. A spark of something unfamiliar.
Hope.
This was the golden ticket not just a ticket to academy but it was going to be a ticket that will change Amon life forever.