The three of them walked along the road, the LEDs overhead still flickering.
It was an advertisement for a website.
'State your wish!'
'Leave your wish!'
'We will make it come true!'
Behind the advertisement was a long list of conglomerate names the website belonged to, some even World-class multinational corporations.
Anck-Su-Namun didn't quite understand the meaning of 'advertisement' yet, so Mori Tsukisa gave a brief explanation, but as for this suddenly appearing website, the girl wasn't too sure herself.
"It seems like... if you leave a wish, it will be fulfilled?" Mori Tsukisa repeated the slogan and thought for a moment: "It's probably some website promotion, right? Using this kind of gimmick to attract traffic—meaning, getting a large number of people to visit it."
"I see..." Anck-Su-Namun couldn't quite understand this approach; in her eyes, it was simply a waste of wealth.
"Haha, of course not! Those wishes are selected. Look at the affiliated companies: some are responsible for maritime transport, so providing a ticket for a ten-day sea cruise would be very simple, right?"
"And that famous World-class multinational medical company will probably pick some 'medical' wishes to fulfill."
"They say it's random, but in reality, they're all handpicked."
As they chatted, they arrived at the bar.
—To satisfy Anck-Su-Namun's curiosity, Mori Tsukisa took them to a relatively quiet bar. Compared to the wild dancing in noisy nightclubs, Anck-Su-Namun just wanted to try the alcohol of this World.
Mori Tsukisa had always been one to just take a sip and stop.
She didn't like alcohol at all, nor did she like what Hiratsuka Shizuka described as 'when you're tipsy, the World becomes beautiful.'
Mainly because... she simply couldn't get drunk. A secret she had kept since she was very young finally had an answer after the spark was lit; since then, with the mystery solved, the girl who was no longer curious lost her passion for alcohol.
As Attendants, Anck-Su-Namun and Imhotep naturally couldn't get drunk either. The three of them found six seats (three for their things) and sat facing each other.
Soft music came from the speakers on the stage, which were connected to an acoustic guitar, and the strings were being plucked by fingers with distinct joints.
A short-haired Boy, dressed simply and neatly, bowed his head and gently plucked the strings.
In the comfortable and refreshing music, a clean voice warmed the microphone at his lips. After a fresh, brief prelude, the healing boyish voice smoothed over all the restless emotions in the bar.
'The sky clears, though it has rained,'
'Puddles reflect the sunset; I'm wearing a trench coat.'
'Passersby in a hurry...'
'A hurried yet quiet World...'
'My dear,'
'Listen to a song I sing.'
The lyrics blew like a breeze into the eyes of a lady holding a glass; they slipped into the ears of a man holding a cigarette. The movement of ice cubes rattling in an empty glass on the bar slowed down, and a waiter with a black hair tie briefly closed his eyes along with the song.
The light drumbeats tapped out an indoor rain. After the song ended, the singer lowered his head with a shy smile. Amidst the sparse applause, there were some teases and inquiries from single adult women.
This made the singer even more bashful.
"What beautiful music. In our time, only nobles were entitled to listen to such things." Anck-Su-Namun put down her glass, half of the amber liquor gone. Looking at her reflection in the glass like water, she whispered: "But you can listen to your heart's content."
Mori Tsukisa watched as the young singer changed the sheet music and gently shook his head at a woman trying to approach him, then said casually: "True, but many people don't think it's something to be happy about."
Imhotep drained the drink in his glass. In his large hand, the clear square glass looked very small. One must remember that Mori Tsukisa was holding her cup of apple juice with both hands.
Anck-Su-Namun crossed her striking long legs and squinted at the young singer, who was gradually being surrounded. She murmured: "Then... what do they want?"
"What would make them happy?"
In the woman's eyes, being with her lover was the most joyful thing.
If one could also hear moving and beautiful music anytime, anywhere, letting the soul roam in interesting melodies—that would be the best life.
Mori Tsukisa shook her head and looked at the woman before her, her Attendant. She propped up her chin, the fruit juice in her hand looking like a glass of intoxicating whiskey. The girl's cheeks were a bit flushed, and her drowsy expression made that tear mole even more alluring.
"Just like..." she smiled, her voice sweet and low: "Just like your original ideal wasn't Imhotep, but rather ensuring your family wouldn't be insulted or bullied."
"Anck-Su-Namun, when did..."
"...your 'ideal' grow up?"
Imhotep nodded with imperceptible approval and poured himself another glass. He realized that sometimes, this Lady Witch of his was frighteningly sober—though, most of the time, she wasn't... Anck-Su-Namun leaned against her man in silence.
A powerful, high-spirited handsome man; a tall, sexy, and charming lady. The two looked at each other, adding a more beloved scene to the quiet bar where the drumbeat rain had just ended.
That sense of profound affection and beauty was something no one else there possessed, and those who came for that purpose would find it hard to find anything as enviable as what existed between Anck-Su-Namun and Imhotep.
Mori Tsukisa took a few sips of her apple juice, her cheeks puffed out. She gurgled a few times, put down the glass, and skipped over to the performance stage.
After leaning down and whispering a few words to the young singer, the girl walked up the steps onto the stage.
The scattered lights dimmed cooperatively, leaving only a single spotlight in the center.
This kind of situation was common in bars. The customers below laughed and clapped; the young men were fine, but those with a bit more experience were already whistling.
"Hi." Mori Tsukisa sat on a bar stool, her slender legs dangling without touching the ground. She waved to the Boy holding the guitar, and then, a vintage and lighthearted tune flowed from the stage.
The girl's voice, as sweet as honey, was like that of a girl sitting by a fireplace flipping through a diary. She tilted her chin up warmly, raised her hand, and lazily picked up a piece of old pulp paper—she spoke softly and slowly, telling everyone present about the youthful adventures of her father and mother.
Meanwhile, the uninhibited people in their seats began to clap softly, keeping time for the girl on stage.
Her voice pressed against the beat, like a lively, excited little sparrow, hopping from the stage onto the customers' tables.
The sparrow spread its wings and sang happily:
'La la la la la,'
'The traveler is singing softly...'
'Singing stories that aren't believed,'
'Sights never seen before.'
'Like a steel giant under the sunset, lizard pineapple candy;'
'Like a silly pipe fairy,'
'Waiting for a queen...'
The cute and lively voice instantly brightened up the seemingly lonely urban bar.
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