Chapter 8
The bar was filled with the smell of sweaty bodies, perfume, cigarettes, and vomit. Amelia sat huddled in her seat with the friends of the original Amelia all around her. They were laughing loudly as they smoked, their hair dyed in various shades of color.
Amelia, who was previously excited to experience the bar, was already feeling disgruntled. She hated it. It was a far cry from the prim and proper life she was used to, and the noise and stench were just too off-putting for her to actually enjoy it.
"Why are you so quiet today, Amelia? Is there something wrong?"
One of her friends asked. It was a chubby boy with neon green hair. He picked up a bottle of beer and pushed it into her hands.
"Here, drink."
Amelia looked at it. She had never been a fan of beer because of its bitter taste. She pushed the bottle away and said politely,
"I am not feeling too well."
"Oh," the chubby boy, feeling a bit embarrassed, took back the bottle, opened it, and chugged it down in one go.
Amelia, already feeling quite nauseous, was about to make an excuse and escape to the toilet when an orange-haired guy beside her stood up abruptly, staring intently in a direction.
"That's the scum that stole my girlfriend!"
Amelia followed his gaze and spotted a man sitting alone. He was tall and broad-shouldered. His black hair was tied carelessly into a low ponytail, and his grey eyes were cold, almost devoid of emotions, as he twirled his glass of whiskey lazily. He was wearing a black shirt, with a couple of buttons undone at the collar, revealing tan skin.