On The Way

The bar room was dark except for a tiny neon light bulb. The strong smell of cigarettes pervaded the air and a stash of cigarette ashes scattered around. Different empty bottles of rare and expensive liquor, whiskey, wine, etc., filled the bar room.

Quist languidly and ungentlemanly sat on a couch, his whole person detached and his reddened eyes blank. A rueful smile was hung on his face, and a gloomy aura exuded from him.

Quist exhaled and picked up a glass of alcohol and chugged it down his throat.

Upon recalling Zelda’s reaction, his expression slipped, feeling as if he had been stabbed in the chest, making him feel very uncomfortable.

Quist gazed into the distance, his expression very indecipherable.

Never did he expect that his way of living in the past would be very troublesome in the future. Had he known that it would, he would never have embarked on it.

Not only did Zelda reject him, but she didn’t believe his confession either. Was anyone as pathetic as him?

Quist directly