Coffee House

Located on 13 Velvet Street in the Stonemarket district, Finch & Son's Coffee House was a relatively well-known place.

Here one could find a mix of merchants, scholars, and gentlemen, discussing business, politics, and the latest scientific discoveries.

One could even see writers and poets scribbling notes and debating literature and philosophy.

Newport was a diverse and class-conscious city, but coffee houses always varied in clientele.

The exterior of the building was a wooden facade with large windows, allowing passersby to see inside. As Luke and Miss Thompson entered the coffee house, the small bell above the door jingled.

Looking at the dark wooden oak tables and the sturdy chairs, gas lighting, and a fireplace that was not currently in use, Luke thought that this was quite a decent place. It gave him vintage vibes.

But then he realized that he had been transmigrated to a vintage era. So naturally everything would give him a vintage vibe.

There was a long wooden counter where coffee was brewed and served. It also had glass cases displaying pastries and small sandwiches.

When the pair walked up to the counter to give the order to the proprietor, Luke's gaze was drawn to the large chalkboard behind the counter that listed all the available drinks and food items.

His mouth went slightly agape when he looked at the prices. He immediately asked the lady in front of him, "Miss Thompson, you said you'll be paying for everything, right?"

"But of course." The young woman said with a light smile.

"Awesome!" Luke nodded.

Hearing his remark, Miss Thompson thought in slight confusion, Awesome? What a strange thing to say.

She looked at Luke and politely asked, "Would you care to order first, sir?"

"Sure, why not."

The youth stepped forward and looked at the menu on the chalkboard. It was written in Albionese, the common language of the Albion Empire.

After studying the menu for about half a minute, Luke shamelessly started ordering, "A cup of black coffee. Make it strong. Very strong.

"Some almond biscuits, a lemon drizzle cake, a couple of apple tarts. Hmm all that for starters. Now, for breakfast I'd like fried eggs with bacon and toast, and a meat pie filled with beef."

Luke paused for a moment, deep in thought. Then, he added with a smile, "Oh, and a glass of lemon cordial, but bring that to me after I've finished eating. Okay?"

The proprietor of the coffee shop, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, jotted down the order on his notepad. His gaze shifted to Luke's clothes, causing him to start having doubts.

He then looked at the blonde woman standing beside him with a slightly dubious look and couldn't help but ask, "Madam, just to confirm… you and the gentleman are sharing a table, yes?"

Miss Thompson snapped out of her daze and looked at the middle-aged man with a forced smile, "Yes, he is with me."

"Very well!" The man happily nodded.

Luke's order was more than 2 shillings!

While Miss Thompson was giving her order, Luke glanced at her with a light smile, but inside he was very confused.

I purposely ordered a lot, but she didn't even complain! Could it be… Does she actually like me?!

Luke closed his eyes, sinking deeper into thought, No, that's very unlikely. My life is not a movie. She probably must've been too embarrassed to say no or something.

Yes, that's probably the reason!

Heh, but this is all on you, Miss. Who told you to bump into me earlier? Hehe, it's good that I ordered a lot. Serves you right!

Seeing the foolish smile on Luke's face, Miss Thompson found it quite amusing. "Mr. Abel, shall we find a table?"

"Ah, yes, of course!" Luke snapped out of his thoughts and turned around. He found an empty table by the window and went ahead and sat first.

Seeing this, the woman was once again left slightly speechless.

He hasn't the slightest notion of etiquette, she thought before taking a seat across from him.

Having already understood a little about the teenager sitting before her, Miss Thompson knew that she would have to be the one to start the conversation.

"So, Mr. Abel," she said, gesturing at the rolled newspaper he had just kept on the table and asked, "am I to take you for a learned man?"

Luke first looked at the newspaper and then at the woman, nodding. "That's right. I'm pursuing a bachelor's degree at the University of Newport."

"Oh, how splendid!" She remarked. "Might I inquire as to what you are studying?"

"A bunch of different things," Luke spoke casually as he tried to recall his curriculum. "Philosophy, history, rhetoric and logic, and classical literature. I am also taking a course in mathematics."

"I must say, Mr. Abel," she began, "you're manner of speech is rather… bohemian."

Luke froze. Fuck! Is this not how kids my age speak here?

No, of course not! I'm so stupid! I'm no longer back on 21st century Earth… Damn it! Does she find me suspicious?

No, no, no, calm down! Calm down! I can still salvage this situation.

He let out an awkward laugh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Yeah, I'm not that great with all this social stuff. To be honest, I've always been a bit of a loner, uh… my fair lady."

Miss Thompson was momentarily taken aback by the sudden shift in Luke's tone. Then she covered her mouth and let out a soft chuckle. "My word, Mr. Abel, you do have a rather poetic way about you."

She took a moment to compose herself. "Ah, do pardon me for laughing. I simply could not resist."

"Uh, sure…" Luke's lips twitched a little.

He reminded himself not to speak too much, lest this woman find out that he wasn't really from around here. Thankfully, the food arrived quickly, allowing him to just focus on eating instead of talking much.

The lady sipped tea from the porcelain cup in a refined and sophisticated manner. Her eyes were then subconsciously drawn toward the bandage around Luke's forehead.

"If I may inquire, Mr. Abel," she said, "how did you come by that injury? It appears as though it must have been rather painful."

"Oh, this." Luke's hand involuntarily touched the bandage. "I, uh…"

His voice suddenly trailed off when he realized something. It had been almost two days since he had transmigrated, yet he still hadn't tried to find out why the previous owner of this body, Abel, had perished.

Luke's eyebrows creased into a frown as he thought, I've been too preoccupied with sleeping and, well, other things. How did Abel meet his end?

Those thugs I met at the alley said something about staying away from someone named Miss Dawson. What was the relation between Abel and Miss Dawson?

Wait… this name sounds very familiar. I need to look for clues back at home. It's strange, though. My memories of recent times are very fragmented…

"Mr. Abel?" The woman called out to him.

"Ah, my bad!" Luke was jolted out of his thoughts. "Right, this wound, yeah? I was jumped by a couple of thugs a few nights ago. I tried to fight them, but it would seem I wasn't very good at it. Welp, in the end, they robbed me and left me in this state."

By now Miss Thompson was slowly getting used to the strange words that Luke used, so she was able to figure out what he meant.

However, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she wondered, He's hiding something.

But on the surface, she displayed an apologetic look, "Forgive me, Mr. Abel. I fear I may have stirred unpleasant memories."

Luke nonchalantly waved his hand. "Don't worry about it."

The pair continued to eat their breakfast. Luke had ordered a lot for himself, needless to say, he greatly enjoyed it. Food always tasted better when someone else bought it.

Whereas, Miss Thompson had only ordered a cup of black tea and some muffins.

After a brief pause, she spoke once more, "Mr. Abel, given your scholarly inclinations, I should very much like to hear your thoughts on the Lacey Riots. Surely, you have heard of them, have you not?"

Luke took a sip of his black coffee, recalling what he had heard or read about the Lacey Riots in the past.

The Lacey Riots were a massive uprising of farm laborers in southern and eastern Albion that took place earlier this year—the year being 1030.

The riots were mainly triggered by low wages, widespread unemployment, the introduction of the threshing machines, and the harsh Albion Poor Law system.

Luke recalled that the authorities had sent soldiers to crush the riots. More than two thousand people were arrested, out of which more than two hundred and fifty were sentenced to death.

Furthermore, hundreds were transported to the Albion colonies across the globe.

Once he'd recalled the general knowledge about the riots, it was fairly easy for him to answer Miss Thompson's question based on his modern-day perspective.

"I can't help but sympathize with the poor laborers, really," said he. "When a man's livelihood is taken away by a machine, and no other opportunities are given, what other choice does he have but to rebel?"

Miss Thompson's eyes flashed with a keen light. "The labourers do deserve some relief. Have you studied these matters deeply?"

"Not really." Luke shrugged. "While I definitely don't condone violence, I do believe that these folks acted out of desperation and not malice."

He paused for a moment, taking yet another sip of the coffee before continuing, "You see, Miss Thompson, if the landowners had introduced these machines gradually, perhaps training labourers for new tasks instead of firing them outright, such unrest probably could have been avoided."

Miss Thompson set her teacup down and leaned in ever so slightly. "You speak as though you have seen more of the world than most, sir."

Her lips curled up into a smile, one that seemed oddly mysterious for some reason. "It is a rare thing for a gentleman to express such views so openly. Most would pretend these troubles do not exist."

Fuck! Did my suggestion seem too… progressive? Luke thought to himself in distress.

Ugh, it's so difficult to hold a conversation with her!

"Ah, forgive me," he awkwardly said. "I was just speaking in hypotheticals. Uh, that's right, I've just been reading too many foreign philosophers lately."

Yes, blaming foreign books is the perfect way to justify strange ideas, he thought.

Miss Thompson looked at him with amusement. She took another sip of her tea and asked, "Pray, tell me, Mr. Abel, have you ever considered politics?"

"Not a chance!" Luke spoke without hesitation. "I've no interest in politics whatsoever."

He didn't have a good impression of politicians from his past life. He found most of them selfish and scheming.

Miss Thompson blinked at his abrupt response before letting out a soft laugh. "Goodness, Mr. Abel, such certainty! And here I thought all men of learning harbored some political ambition."

She paused for a moment before asking, "So then what interests you?"

"Me?" Luke's lips curled up into a faint smile as his gaze was drawn to his legs. "It'd be nice if I could travel the world, you know."

The pair talked about various other current affairs. Miss Thompson seemed quite interested in Luke's point of view. On the other hand, Luke gradually dropped his guard the more he talked to her.

Finally, after finishing the food and drinks they'd ordered, they stepped out of the coffee house. Luke noticed a black carriage was waiting on the cobbled street right in front of the entrance to the building.

"It has been a true pleasure making your acquaintance, Mr. Bishop. I must say, I greatly enjoyed our conversation." Miss Thompson offered a sincere smile as she slightly curtsied.

The driver of the carriage opened the door for her and helped her board. The woman looked at the youth through the window and smiled, "If fortune favors us, Mr. Bishop, I dare say our paths shall cross again."

"Sure." Luke waved his hand while enjoying the refreshing drink of lemon cordial.

As he watched the carriage disappear amidst several other carriages on the street, he couldn't help but begin to frown as his mind retraced their conversation, turning over every detail.

"Strange… I don't recall ever telling her my surname."