Double Drink

Dr. Clara Dravenmoor.

The brilliant and rebellious archaeologist of Oréa Academy.

Expelled for inappropriate conduct.

Admired by her peers.

But not just for her intelligence or daring personality.

But also—for her unmatched beauty.

1.74 meters of pure ferocity.

Her skin is fair—sun-kissed with a healthy glow, like someone who's spent a lifetime near the ocean.

It shines under the light, the color of a fleeting summer romance.

Her long golden hair cascades down her back, reaching those dangerous curves—

The kind of curves that could steal the soul of a weak-minded man if he stared too long.

And right now?

Those hips sway with playful rhythm.

That tiny waist moves effortlessly, teasing.

She bounces ahead of the mysterious white-haired man, leading the way.

His bright, piercing eyes roam from her top to her bottom.

Enchanted. Captivated.

Whether it's her stunning hair, her shapely waist, or those thick thighs—

He takes it all in.

He knows she's playing with him.

Teasing him.

A petty revenge for how he affects her.

But it doesn't matter.

It's working.

He follows her through the Safira, almost salivating.

After passing through a few corridors and rooms, they arrive at a massive hall.

A wide-open lounge, spanning dozens of square meters with a high ceiling.

At the center—

A massive screen panel.

A giant TV.

A large oval table surrounded by chairs.

Scattered sofas. Furniture of all kinds.

A meeting room.

And in one corner—

A marble countertop.

Behind it, rows of shelves stacked with every type of liquor imaginable.

A bar.

But right now?

It's a wreck.

Chairs tossed over.

The TV screen—cracked.

The bar—flooded with colorful liquid.

Most of the bottles—shattered.

"That damn worm!"

Clara mutters, annoyed.

Then—her eyes flick to the bar.

"Let's see if anything survived."

With a graceful hop, she vaults over the counter.

She starts searching.

Most of the bottles are broken. Their contents spilled across every surface.

"Hmm?"

She spots a bottle on the floor.

Intact.

Or so it seems.

Crack—

It shatters the moment she lifts it to chest level.

"Shit!"

She tosses the broken glass aside.

And keeps searching.

She digs through the shelves, then moves to the bar's back storage.

"Matteo must have a secret stash somewhere around here…"

Ignoring the wreckage, she feels along the wall—searching.

Then—her eyes light up.

Click.

Clara presses a hidden button.

A small secret compartment slides open.

And just like that—a grin spreads across her face.

"This is gold!"

She quickly pulls out two glass bottles from the bartender's secret stash.

Each about thirty centimeters tall, a few inches wide.

The design isn't modern.

Classic. Rustic.

Something from old Earth.

Detailed with elegant black and white accents.

One bottle—white glass, black liquid inside.

The other—black glass, white liquid inside.

Clara grabs two small glasses, setting them on the counter in front of the mysterious man.

She fills the glass closest to him with the white liquid.

"Matches you."

She grins playfully.

Then—she pours the black liquid into her own glass.

He doesn't seem confused, but his curious eyes shine with amusement.

"Like this…"

She lifts her glass, waiting.

He mirrors her movement.

She nods warmly before gently tapping his glass with hers.

Trink.

The soft clink of glass sounds satisfying.

"Salud!"

Clara downs the entire shot in one go.

He nods and follows.

He expects something smooth. But instead—

Bitterness.

His mouth floods with an intense, sharp taste.

Hints of flavor swirl beneath it, but the overpowering bitterness drowns them out.

"…"

He looks at Clara, confused. Slightly disappointed.

But—

She's still smiling.

Mouth full.

Then—before he can even swallow the bitter drink—

Clara leans in.

And kisses him.

Not just any kiss.

She presses their lips together, slowly transferring some of the white liquid from her mouth into his.

At the same time—his drink flows into hers.

The two flavors mix.

His eyes widen.

Now—the bitter notes blend perfectly with the fruitier, softer sweetness.

It's complex. Balanced.

And intoxicating.

Especially when mixed with Clara's taste.

Their tongues dance together, deepening the kiss.

"Mhmm~"

Clara lets out soft, breathy moans.

Her body heats up.

Her heart pounds faster.

She forces herself to break the kiss—

A thin strand of saliva lingers between their lips.

Until gravity and distance snap it apart.

Their eyes remain locked.

He smiles—satisfied.

She's slightly breathless, lips parted, cheeks flushed.

A damn good sight for him.

But—Clara quickly regains her composure.

She wipes the saliva from the corner of her mouth.

Then—flashes a confident smirk.

"Good, right?"

He doesn't speak.

He doesn't nod.

He doesn't blink.

But—the grin on his face says it all.

"Mm!"

Clara nods in approval.

Then—she grabs the black-liquid bottle and pours into his glass.

"This one's too sweet alone. Just like the other is too bitter…"

She pours the white liquid into her own glass.

Then raises it.

"But together…"

He follows.

They both drink.

Clara watches him, waiting. Expecting.

He doesn't disappoint.

But this time—instead of leaning in to kiss her…

He reaches out.

Fingers tilt her chin upward—

Pulling her into the kiss himself.

Clara melts.

Every time she kisses him—

That strange, mysterious energy rushes through her.

A magic stimulant.

It heightens her senses. Strengthens her muscles. Heals her wounds.

But it also fills her mind with questions.

'It's too good…'

'Shit, how can this feel so damn good??'

'I hope there aren't any side effects…'

'Fuck, who am I kidding? I'm already addicted!'

Clara forces herself to break the kiss before she loses herself even more in this dangerous pleasure.

"Slow down, big guy…"

She whispers softly, almost hesitantly.

But—he doesn't want to stop.

He moves fast.

Leaping over the bar, gripping her waist with both hands—

And pulling her in for another kiss.

"Mmhm~?"

Clara gasps—surprised by his sudden boldness.

But—her body loves it.

Instinctively.

She doesn't resist.

More soft, breathy moans escape her lips as he devours her.

Enjoying. Savoring.

The sweet taste of her honeyed lips.

Their kisses are hot.

Wet.

Intense.

His hands start moving.

Slowly—tracing over the leather belt on her waist.

Gliding toward her back.

Clara feels her heartbeat skyrocket.

A thin sheen of sweat glistens on her flawless skin.

Her moans grow louder.

She wants this.

So much.

But—she manages to control herself.

She places both hands on his chest.

A gentle request to slow down.

He understands.

And eases his pace.

He breaks the kiss, but—

His nose brushes against her face. Affectionate. Tender.

She loves it.

Her lips curl into a loving smile.

"This is good…"

The words slip from her heart—warm and honest.

But then—something catches her eye.

Holes. In his chest.

Before—his body was too covered in blood and dust to notice.

Now—she wipes his skin clean and sees them.

Small, round holes—less than two centimeters wide.

Exposing raw, wounded flesh beneath. Tiny dry drops of dark blood.

But—his flesh is glowing.

Her curiosity wins.

She gently touches his wounds.

And—a tingling sensation spreads across her fingertips.

His wounds are healing.

At an inhuman speed.

Just like her frostbite vanished after his first kiss.

"Unbelievable!"

Clara's eyes widen, sparkling with excitement.

She gets too excited—

Presses her fingers against his wounds.

And—she feels it.

A subtle reaction in his body.

Like a shiver running down his spine.

He doesn't complain.

But—she understands.

"Oh! Sorry me!!!"

Clara quickly pulls back her fingers, her expression apologetic but also deeply loving and grateful.

"These wounds… they're from when you took that shot for me…"

Her voice is thick with gratitude and warmth.

"Does it hurt a lot?" She meets his gaze.

He doesn't blink.

His expression remains the same—calm, confident, even excited.

But—he is in pain.

A lot of pain.

His chest burns.

His bones ache.

His skin—covered in acid burns from the sandworm's venom.

But—he's too happy to care about pain.

"Of course it hurts, Clara, you airheaded idiot!"

She mutters to herself, frustrated.

Then, she glances around.

"I'll grab a first aid kit. But Himeko will know what to do when she gets back."

She turns back to him.

"Wait here."

He seems to understand.

So, he stays at the bar.

Pours himself another drink.

But—without Clara…

Mixing it in his glass is nothing compared to mixing it in her mouth.

He stares at the drink, sighs.

But—his eyes still shine with expectation.

…

Meanwhile—

Captain Diego and his crew enter the hangar bay.

Several men and women on hovering bikes.

One man rushes ahead, jumping off his bike before it even lands.

He charges toward Jex, frustration and fury twisted on his face.

"WHERE IS SHE?!?"

"WHERE'S CLARA?!?"

Jex panics as this massive, muscular man—

Nearly two meters tall—

Storms toward her like a raging beast.

"Ehh—"

She instinctively takes a step back, clearly trying to avoid him.

But—he doesn't care.

Blinded by anger, he reaches out with both of his massive hands—

Aiming for her shoulders.

"JAVIER!!!"

A rough, tired male voice calls from behind him.

Javier stops.

Before he can grab Jex.

"Fuck you all!!"

He curses under his breath, pissed.

Then—he storms off toward the elevator, heavy, impatient steps echoing through the hangar.

Jex lets out a deep sigh of relief.

Then—she looks toward the man who saved her.

A gentle-faced, gray-haired man.

"Thanks, Matteo!"

He nods at her, smiling kindly.

Then—his gaze shifts toward Captain Diego, concern in his eyes.

"Diego, you need to control him!"

But—the captain ignores him.

Instead—Diego steps up to Jex, just as urgent as Javier.

"Where is the relic?! Is it secure??"

"Yes!" Jex quickly reports, respectful.

"I had the nerds take it to the containment room."

"Good!"

Diego immediately turns away, hurrying toward the main elevator.

Ignoring Jex's protests.

"Captain!?"

"What about Javier???"

"He looks like he's about to do something bad to Clara!!"

"Captain???"

Diego enters the elevator.

Then—he turns.

His expression is cold.

"I don't have time to deal with stupid love conflicts."

"..."

Jex lowers her head, worried.

More people rush past her.

A group of young men with neon-dyed hair, piercings, and tattoos covering their bodies.

Classic cyberpunks.

"Money, little girl!"

"We came here for MONEY!!"

"MONEY! MONEY!! MONEY!!!"

"We're gonna be RICH!!!"

The crew is euphoric, celebrating the mission's success.

Meanwhile—Jex sighs, lowering her head again.

Then—a pair of leather cowboy boots step into her view.

She looks up—

To Matteo's warm, but concerned face.

"You worried about Dr. Dravenmoor's safety?"

"Where is she?"

Jex shakes her head.

"That's not it…"

"I'm afraid things are about to spiral out of control."

She bites her lip.

Then—she mutters something under her breath.

"Even without Nyx here… Javier won't have the chance to bully Clara. Not with her new friend around."

Matteo's tired eyes flicker with curiosity.

"New guy?"

"What's he like?"

Jex hesitates.

"He…"

She doesn't even know where to start.

Finally—she exhales.

"You're better off seeing him for yourself… or you won't believe me."

"..."