Pissed Off

"What's your name?" the man in front of him asked.

Before the night came alive, the exclusive London nightclub stood silent and empty. Bright chandeliers hung like jewels above empty leather seats, waiting patiently for the night's elite guests to fill the void with life and laughter.

Sorin looked at this newly appearing guy once again. He blinked and answered, "My name is Smoke."

"Hmm, code name? What, you're the eighth, then. Or you don't have a number like Grandpa Heinrich?" he turned toward Brother, yelling, "You didn't tell me there's a new one!"

"He's my Brother-in-law!" Brother yelled from the kitchen.

"Huh?" The man stood there, arms akimbo. His face showed a little bit more interest when he asked three consecutive questions, "What does that mean? You're marrying the family's daughter? You're marrying Elara?"

Sorin flinched. His eyes started to sharpen. "How can you speak her name?"

The brown-haired man sneered. "Why? You have a problem with that?"

"Hey, stop chatting and help me out! We're preparing to open in a few minutes!" Brother yelled again. "Hey, Reon, don't keep testing the boy. Go and wipe the tables!"

As a roll of napkins flew toward the man from the kitchen, he caught it and yelled, "You bastard, —"

SPLAT!!!

It had been a while since Sorin experienced his cochlear exploding. As he stumbled sideways, feeling his skull cracking in the process, his brain tried to minimize the damage and struggled to balance him. All the while figuring out... what the fuck just happened.

Sorin took a deep breath as his ears started to recover. Faintly, he saw Brother approaching him and led him to sit on a chair, then yelled angrily at the man called 'Reon'.

His ears started recovering when he heard that brown-haired man saying disdainfully after being yelled at, "What, you can't even handle hearing the third's name?"

"What do you expect, you fucking smooth brain? He's only three days into our family. Fucking brutish, wipe the bloody hell you brought out!" Brother flipped out, pointing around the place to let Reon clean the mess.

But now that he thought about it, Sorin felt something scratching his brain. He just realized something was odd. "If I'm the Eighth and Elara's the Seventh... and Grandpa doesn't have a number... then someone is missing..."

Sorin turned toward Brother and Reon. His eyes were suspicious of Reon, who could easily call the names of the Sovereigns he couldn't hear. Was he the missing number?

"You look better already," Brother examined him. "Yeah, there is a missing number. But he's dead."

Sorin frowned. "Then how was he able to call a Sovereign's name?"

"Because he's a freak, that's why," Brother slapped Reon on the back of his head.

"You fuck—" Reon was going to retaliate, but then he saw Sorin's stare. He looked a bit interested again. "That's a first. I thought you'd cower in fear."

"You bastards are speaking in cryptids. I'm here trying to translate your fucking babble," Sorin didn't like this man. He was arrogant and kept getting on his nerves while not having a single intention to explain anything.

"You're quite quick, and you have quite the guts. I see why Papa might like you," Reon sneered. "Just fucking tell me your name."

"Sorin," he said. "Isn't it time to tell me who you are properly now?"

"What, you hadn't told him anything yet?" Reon asked Brother.

"You're not so special that I'd go out of my way to tell my brother here who you are before you came," Brother flipped again, "Introduce yourself properly and stop being a dick!"

Reon clicked his tongue.

Now that Sorin had more time to grasp the situation, this man, Reon, came to help Brother in his shift. It meant they were close enough, and Reon was kind enough to come and help. He knew about the Sovereign, and he could even call Brother's name.

"I'm Reon Loneborn. I am a military art professor at Haran," Reon said. "You're new. You know what Haran is?"

Sorin turned to Brother and then back to him. "The Academy?"

If he was a professor there, then did it mean he was ancient or cursed?

"There. I introduced myself," Reon begrudgingly wiped the floor and table of Sorin's blood while Brother pushed Sorin to go change his clothes.

While Brother and Reon were left near the bar, the two fell into silence. Brother stared at Reon in disdain, and the man also noticed his look. Brother sighed and asked, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you keep trying to provoke him?"

"Don't know," Reon answered. "He just pissed me off."

"Oh, I get it now. He pissed you off like you pissed me off. Great," Brother sneered. "Why, because he reminded you of yourself?"

"He gave off the smell of a Loneborn," Reon muttered.

"He was a normal human. If he's something else, I'd know," Brother said. "Don't just stand there if you're done. Turn on the open sign."

Brother ordered him, and once again, Reon begrudgingly went to comply. Meanwhile, Sorin went back there and saw Brother order the man around.

Huh, maybe he misunderstood? Perhaps that man was actually just scared of Brother?

Wait. If that man was a professor of Haran, then he was the one mentioned by Mama previously... Brother's acquaintance at Haran? That arrogant man?

Would he cause trouble later?

Naturally, Sorin was a cautious person. After his life experience was added by 32 years, he had seen many kinds of people. That being said, Reon's kind was the most troublesome one. It would be difficult to handle him with his own personality.

Well, that'd be fine. He could come out unscathed after going on an insult battle with Papa, so butting heads with this man wouldn't even be a problem to him.

Surprisingly, when the shift started, they got along well. Apparently, the man was very professional when it came to work as he led the customers to their seats. Maybe it wasn't his first time helping Brother run the club.

Sorin himself had lots of experience attending tables on clubs like this when he was young. He had lots of late-night and even overnight jobs to get some cash. And since the money was good, he was never shy about it.

The only problem was...

"I'd like to have your specialty today. Give me your fresh wagyu blood and raw rainbird fat liver as a side," a man, or at least something that looked like it, with a body covered with yellowing bandages and cloth under a wide cloak, said.

Sorin raised his eyebrows. "Right away, Sir."

"I want a mermaid tears cocktail, please! Add extra pearl, too."

"Does this club serve something alive? No? Do you have some dried scorpion for a snack, then?"

"Should we drink those human cocktails once in a while?"

"They serve it here?"

"Montrachet!"

Well. It was clear at this point that it was a club for the cryptids. Sorin finally got to know Brother's part-time work as a manager and bartender. The club was opened at midnight and was closed at sunrise. After the shift ended, they sat at a table together.

Because it was quite an elite club despite the small space, there weren't that many customers coming, and there wasn't that much space available in the first place either. Brother, as the one handling the bar and the kitchen, was enough.

Brother, having her breakfast heartily, opened the topic. "Alright, now that we're done, let's talk business."