Unfortunate Pursuits: A Bottle's Curse

"What? They ran away," the guard shouted into his walkie-talkie, quickly exiting the Liquor and Wine Store, avoiding any further glance from me. I turned to Mr. Drick, placing the fragments of the box and broken Macallan 1946 bottle on the table. He looked slightly surprised and then started talking fast. I didn't want to listen to his rambles, because they won't get me the Macallan 1946 back, and I was frustrated.

"Do you have another one?" I asked directly. A slightly chattering Mr. Drick suddenly fell silent, "I'll check," he said, and hastily went to the back of his shop. Now, all I could do was sit anxiously in the waiting chair, cold sweat flooding my palms, and I immediately covered my face with both hands.

I was done for. Hopeless.

To handle all this, I only had one option. To sell the LXX given to me by Michelle, because I didn't have that much savings, and even though the watch I got from Michelle is expensive, it still wouldn't cover the price of Macallan 1946. Only the LXX could compensate for it.

My LXX , so easily gained, so easily lost.

Before long, Mr. Drick reappeared, "We still have one Macallan 1946, this is the last bottle and the price has increased slightly." I felt like cursing; when I needed it, he raised the price. But I was powerless. He handed me a piece of paper and without comment, I looked at the price written on it, clearly only the LXX could cover this cost.

"Would you like to purchase it at this price?"

What choice did I have other than nodding?

"Alright, wait a moment. I will pack it, and of course, with its Gin and Sherry."

Mr. Drick left me alone in the guest chair.

"Good afternoon…" a female voice sounded beside me. I paid it no mind; I wasn't the one on duty. She should find someone else.

"…"

"…"

"I'm sorry."

I reluctantly turned and saw a young girl looking anxious, staring at me. My eyes met hers but no reaction registered in my brain. I felt like I was thinking too slowly. Soon, a memory tried to pierce the thick fog, and I recalled her, the girl who knocked over the Macallan 1946.

"Is there anything I can help with?" she asked, her face full of guilt. My lips moved slowly, and a flat and heavy voice was heard, "Of course, you can replace the drink you ruined," I motioned, handing over the receipt for the drink given by Mr. Drick.

"Ugh…" The girl immediately went silent upon seeing the amount written on the paper and her face turned even paler, looking more guilty and frightened, and soon her tears flowed.

Oh, come on… Your tears aren't worth a dime.

I knew she wouldn't be able to help, I didn't blame her. Maybe it was those men, or perhaps it was just my fate, being in the wrong place at the wrong time. "Go, there's nothing you can do here," I said, lowering my head again, not wanting to be disturbed or to console anyone. The girl sat next to me, sobbing for a while before leaving without saying anything more.

Mr. Drick eventually returned with a bag containing Macallan 1964, Gin, and Sherry. "How about the payment, shall I charge it to Café Eve as usual?"

"…" I didn't know how else to pay for it now. I nodded, promising myself that I would sell my LXX soon and return the money to the Master.

"Can someone deliver the drink directly to Café Eve? I will cover the delivery costs," I said, recalling the earlier trauma and feeling that I shouldn't handle this cursed item again.

Mr. Drick frowned, "Sorry, we don't provide delivery service, company policy."

I grimaced and reluctantly picked up the drink bag. Somehow, it felt even heavier. I needed to quickly find a taxi to take me directly to Café Eve and hand all of this to the Master before something else happened. But perhaps I wouldn't face any more misfortune, it's unlikely to experience bad luck twice in a row in one afternoon, even though I wouldn't want to test that theory.

As I exited the Mall, I saw a taxi about 30 meters from the exit waiting for customers. There shouldn't be any more problems once I got in that taxi and headed straight to Café Eve.

Before I could even take more than ten steps, I was intercepted by seven young men. "Where do you think you're going after hurting our friends?" said one with a face full of piercings, holding a baseball bat on his shoulder, smirking menacingly at me. All seven of them clearly looked cocky with their style and obviously because of their number.

If I beat up one cowardly dog, they surely will come back with their pack of loser dogs.

No need to ask, I wanted to fight them, but unwittingly my hand was clutching the drink pouch. The Macallan inside was the last Macallan 1946 that the Liquor and Wine Store had, and if they said it was the last, there wouldn't be another like it in all of Melodistria.

If this bottle breaks again, even my LXX might not be able to replace it. I don't want this one to shatter either, or I'll be in big trouble. Even though I was boiling with rage, I turned to run away. But as I did, I miscalculated. Behind me, about a dozen young men, each holding a baseball bat, were approaching from the left, right, and behind, all looking at me. No kind words would be exchanged this time. If I didn't want this Macallan to shatter, the only option was to

Run!!!

Without giving anyone, including myself, another moment, I immediately turned back and pushed forward from the left side, bumping into and shoving one of the seven who I thought was the weakest and smallest in stature. I chose to break through from the front because I was aware that the dozen behind me were ready to block if I fled, but the seven in front wouldn't expect that I'd dare to charge through them. Just as I guessed, they didn't anticipate their prey would dare to run headlong, so they were a step behind me, though one of them managed to swing his baseball bat, striking my back.

Pain and numbness radiated across my back, but I had to keep running. I couldn't stop and wait to be beaten en masse. I had to escape and keep running as far as possible to protect this drink. Along the bustling shopping center, I started running like a madman, with them all shouting and chasing after me. My breath quickened, and my adrenaline pumped; I had to run to save my life and this Macallan.

"Wait."

"Don't run."

"Don't flee."

What the hell are they thinking? Did they expect me to listen to them? To be the obedient child who replies, "yes", and stands still allowing them to hit me?

My legs kept running faster, almost colliding with several people in front of me and continued running without realizing where I was heading. As long as there was a space to run, that's where I went. If it weren't for the overwhelming fear, I would have chosen to run into a shopping center or places with security personnel or police posts. But now, after running for quite a while, I realize I'm heading towards a rather desolate residential area. Sweat starts to pour, and the temperature feels hotter. Fear constantly gnaws at me, making shivers run deep within.

Thud ... thud … thud.

Three stones flew past me from behind and fell on the asphalt ahead. Some pursuers have started throwing stones at me because they can't catch up. If one of those stones had hit my head, I wouldn't be able to think anymore, but now my fear has turned, filling the voids of my anger.

I'm furious.

Vroom... Vroom... A motorcycle zoomed towards me, its pillion rider swinging a baseball bat, striking my head instantly, making me tumble. My face plummeted onto the dusty asphalt, feeling hot against the skin of my hands, and my head spun in dizziness. My drink bag fell, and the bottles inside broke on the street pavement, specifically, the Gin and Sherry bottles shattered, but the Macallan box remained intact. Without wasting any more time, I quickly got up with a still spinning head and grabbed the Macallan box.

Some of my pursuers were already behind me and were closing in. One swung his baseball bat at my back, but I managed to run before the bat could break my bones.

As soon as I started running again, the black motorcycle immediately turned and charged at me, forcing me to sprint away from its direction and turn into another street. I was truly furious, but no matter how angry, I wasn't foolish enough to take on twenty or so people armed with baseball bats when I was unarmed, protecting a fragile box. A stone flew past, grazing my arm, making my heart skip a beat. I could feel the increasing number of stones being thrown. They all ran after me, shouting. Several stones hit my neck and back, causing pain, but I wouldn't stop. Moments later, I heard the sound of a motorcycle heading in my direction.

I spotted a narrow alley on the left and immediately turned into it to avoid the hail of stones and the oncoming motorcycle. But what I never imagined was that after running about 40 meters, the narrow alley was a dead-end. A four-meter-high brick wall stood in my way, blocking all paths. "Damn it," I cursed. I quickly turned around, hoping to still make an escape. Only a few steps before I could reach the main street again, one of the pursuers already showed himself, panting heavily. Without waiting any longer, I immediately kicked him in the face and retreated when more people began to emerge. Even though I tried to find a way out in this tight alley, I couldn't find anything to climb.

I was trapped.