Mob MC Short Story 1

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Short Story. Everyday Life At The Café

A café stands alone in a residential area. It has a stylish brick-like exterior. Upon entering, gentle music flows from a record, creating an atmosphere of luxury with its chic interior.

There are a few seats at the counter and four small tables. Cold brew coffee is slowly dripping, filling the air with the faint aroma of coffee beans. 

Next to the counter, a small potted plant with a beautiful tree is placed, and the air conditioning maintains a comfortable room temperature.

Time passes peacefully inside the café. It's as if a different time flows quietly in this particular place. There are only a few customers: a man at the counter and two women at a table. All quietly enjoying their meals.

The only staff in the café is the master, a dashing and handsome man in a pristine white shirt and black trousers. 

With a calm expression, he polishes a glass.

"Hey, what do you think? How should I approach it next time?"

A customer at the counter, a somewhat wild-looking boy, impatiently taps the counter.

In his mid-teens, the boy seems to disregard the café's atmosphere. With a sulky face and resting his cheek on his hand, he continues speaking.

"The other day, I pretended to be a timid guy and nervously invited her out."

Standing up from his chair, he raises one hand, kneels, and starts some performance.

"Oh, my beautiful platinum princess. Those sparkling scales and round eyes. A snake among all serpents with a small body. The most adorable in the world. Please have lunch with me, and, of course, a dance too."

As the master, I sigh, stop polishing the glass, and turn my face toward the boy. A dance?

"This lolicon tried to compare a girl to a snake. It was the worst, and the girls around me beat him up. Especially the black-haired girl, she was terrifying. She pulled out a sword!"

"Man, you're an idiot. No, I don't even need to ask; I can tell. Go touch some grass or something."

I look at the sulking boy with a half-eye. It's low-quality not to question his actions.

"The other day, did you give her a bouquet? Before that, you said you handed her a love letter, right? You're quite conventional."

"The bouquet got displayed in the classroom, and the love letter got torn to shreds on the spot. I learned that there's a black-haired demon in this world."

"Then give up. If you've had such a hard time, you should stop, Jorm."

If I were him, I wouldn't approach her anymore. That girl will not hesitate to kill.

"Fool! At that battle, I got struck by that beautiful figure! My destined one! That's why, even though I've become such a weak person, I entered the academy... I can't even get close to her."

"Paying Odin the rent just for that."

He's banging the counter in frustration; it might break soon.

That's a bit troublesome. 

Calm down, and give up. 

I wag my index finger and force Jorm, who has changed so much, to float and sit in the chair. What a troublesome guy, seriously.

"More importantly, how can you make enough of this cold brew coffee to drink? Can you squeeze out more by shaking it? Isn't it impossible to make enough to sell in the store?"

It has only been dripping slowly. It's not accumulating at all. 

"What do you do when customers come?"

"I create finished products."

"Is that what you call cold brew coffee?"

"That's a Zen question."

I nod, realizing that this topic is quite profound. 

Can something created from the beginning as cold brew coffee truly be called cold brew coffee?

"It seems a bit like a fraud, doesn't it?"

"Cold brew coffee is the most popular item in this store, so there's no help. But more importantly, place an order. The sales are terrible."

"Sigh... Alright, then, one cold brew coffee."

For some reason, Jormungand says it with a sigh. It's not a scam, so it's fine.

"Napolitan (a type of Japanese spaghetti), Napoli Pizza, Napoleon, and cold brew coffee, understood."

"I don't have much money..."

"Don't worry about it. I'll tell Odin. We're acquaintances, so I'll give you a discount."

With that, I start working on the dishes with a hum, thinking that I've earned the monthly sales. Alcohol sells well, you know.

For Napolitan, I fry the pre-boiled noodles. Ketchup, ketchup. Oh, there's no ketchup. I guess I'll use doubanjiang (spicy bean paste).

I stir it in the pan. That sizzling sound is nice. 

Onion, green pepper... oh, no onion. 

I'll use leeks instead. And there's no green pepper. 

Why don't I have so many ingredients?

Come to think of it, I haven't gone shopping today. I'll use chili peppers instead. Bacon is fine because I have it.

I add salt and pepper and quickly stir-fry it. 

"Hey, Chinese-style spaghetti is ready!"

"...Didn't you say Napolitan? It looks all red."

"Next is Neapolitan Pizza... How do you make the dough?"

Creative dishes are the key to a restaurant. Now, the dough. How about using udon flour?