"As a beverage with a peculiar color and taste that became popular in the Arab World during the 16th century, coffee was first experienced and favored by well-traveled British explorers and multinational merchants."
"Therefore, since its arrival here, coffee consumption has possessed a niche and exclusive high-end character."
"A coffee house is not just a place where coffee is sold; it is also an idea, a way of life, a social setting, and a philosophical concept."
"It carries so much spirit and history."
Sen Getsusa and the blond Boy sat in a corner of the coffee house, listening to the middle-aged man nearby talking grandiosely; sitting across from him was Miss Mary.
"Spirit and history my foot! This stuff tastes like spoiled broth."
The blond Boy set down his coffee cup with a look of disgust, yet his eyes couldn't help but drift toward his 'ex-girlfriend.'
Yes, ten minutes ago, this young Boy named Jack Dawson had unilaterally declared he was heartbroken... Sen Getsusa sipped her coffee in small mouthfuls, ignoring the distraught Boy as she carefully admired the coffee house's decor.
It had to be said that no matter how well modern imitations were done, they lacked the sense of authenticity this era effortlessly displayed.
Iron chandeliers hung from the pale yellow ceiling, and exaggerated abstract oil paintings were mounted on the mahogany wainscoting.
Dark square pillars were wrapped with folded papers resembling scriptures, covered with messages left by those who had enjoyed the coffee banquet here.
Behind the long teak bar was not a cabinet filled with coffee canisters, but rather rows of old bookshelves;
The air was still permeated with the passionate thoughts of past literati, mixed with the heavy aroma of rich coffee beans—and perhaps the scent of poets' ink.
It was the final romance.
"Excuse me, Miss..."
"Sorry, my fiancée isn't feeling well."
Sen Getsusa stared blankly with her chin in her hand, letting Jack ward off the men who came to flirt—this was already the fourth one since they had sat down.
Jack looked at Sen Getsusa, then at the cold coffee in front of him. Lowering his head, he walked quickly to the counter, ordered a bottle of soda, and then fled under the strange looks of the coffee house staff.
Returning to the table, he looked exhausted.
Meanwhile, the conversation between the 'ex-girlfriend' and the middle-aged man continued.
"When I am not at home, I am at the coffee house."
The middle-aged man spoke eloquently, "When I am not at home, where else could I be? Banquets, banquets, endless banquets—my dear, I don't like them.
I love reading poetry, but my mother never understood me.
Even though I built such a prosperous estate at such a young age."
The middle-aged man boasted about himself nonchalantly.
Jack rolled his eyes and mimicked him in a high-pitched voice: "'When I am not at home, I am at the coffee house.' You're an idiot who likes drinking spoiled broth. 'Built such a prosperous estate at a young age'? Young? Hey, his wrinkles could trap my finger."
Sen Getsusa covered her mouth and giggled.
Jack shrugged. "Mary and I were together for two years. It was a romance of free will."
"When you were helping me reject those people just now, why didn't you mention 'free will'?" Sen Getsusa's retort left Jack speechless.
The girl turned her head and glanced at the girl and the middle-aged man behind them.
The two were chatting happily. At some point, they had moved closer together. Mary leaned against him, whispering near the man's chin.
For a moment, the girl deliberately revealed her collarbone, allowing the middle-aged man to carefully stroke the necklace... and herself.
Turning back, Jack's eyes were filled with fury.
Sen Getsusa pointed at the pair. "Clearly, they are also in a 'romance of free will.'
Also, 'When I am not at home, I am at the coffee house; when I am not at the coffee house, I am on my way to one.' That quote is by Balzac."
Blinking, Sen Getsusa added, "Honoré de Balzac."
Jack raised a fist toward Sen Getsusa, then slumped onto the table, his neck stretched out long. His quiet voice carried his dissatisfaction: "I know Balzac! And whose side are you on anyway!"
Sen Getsusa pointed at Jack's forehead.
The latter deflated, slumping into the brown leather sofa with a look of total disappointment. "I saved money for two months just to give her that necklace. And now, she actually—"
Sen Getsusa gave a cunning smile and snapped her fingers.
—Though the gesture was quite out of character for her outfit:
"Excuse me, Mr. Wild Painter, is there a tailor shop nearby?
Take me there.
Big sister is in a good mood today, so I'll help you out."
Jack looked Sen Getsusa up and down with a dark expression—even the most charming face couldn't completely hide her youthful age.
He could still tell the difference between fifteen or sixteen and twenty-five or twenty-six.
"Shorty, you should be calling me 'Big Brother'."
"Stop talking and lead the way."
The girl followed the Boy as they tiptoed out of the coffee house, while the bored clerk wiping the bar rolled his eyes.
A classic pair: a penniless painter and a wealthy young lady.
Look at that long dress; it must cost at least two or three years of his wages.
—Until half an hour later, the short, stout male clerk saw the pair again.
This was...?
He gaped in surprise as he watched the two walk past him with their heads held high.
The girl even gave a playful wink as she trailed behind, ordering a coffee and some small biscuits from him.
Well... clothes make the man?
Jack Dawson—no, it should be Mr. Jack Dawson now!
His blond hair was neatly slicked back, with just the right amount of hair oil—not greasy, but clean and sharp.
A slim-fit black suit, with his long shirt sleeves showing about an inch and a half past the suit cuffs, and sapphire cufflinks that were particularly eye-catching.
His trousers were the perfect length, and on his feet were polished, shiny new leather shoes.
On his hand, he wore an expensive watch, its dial encrusted with several diamonds.
Sen Getsusa kept her hands behind her back, admiring the blond dummy's figure from a distance. She nodded in satisfaction and followed him back to their seats.
This time, it wasn't just the men who were staring.
"Hey, there are a few girls staring at you," Sen Getsusa teased Jack. "That older one looks like she's about to breathe fire from her eyes."
Jack felt completely uneasy being stared at—he had never had such an experience before.
"That's because of your money." Jack frowned. His throat was parched, but he realized Sen Getsusa had only ordered her own coffee.
Where's my soda?
He glared at the girl. Somehow, he seemed to have become familiar with this strange girl in front of him; their conversation felt more like that of friends of many years.
They had clearly only just met at the harbor.
What was going on?
Sen Getsusa rolled her eyes. "Don't say such immature things, Mr. Jack."
Jack clearly disagreed with Sen Getsusa's worldview. "Regardless, that is not a 'romance of free will'!"
He lowered his voice and began to 'instruct' the girl, who was young enough to be his sister, using his own set of theories.
Perhaps he thought Sen Getsusa could still be saved?
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