The warm, ambient light of the bar cast a peaceful atmosphere, easing both body and mind.

I sat at the counter, absentmindedly wiping down a glass. There were no customers yet, so there were no glasses to wash, but it was a habit of mine to clean them whenever there was downtime.

The memories of my life before joining the academy felt as vivid as if they had happened just yesterday. The quiet bar, combined with the sound of the glass being polished, made time slip by without me noticing.

I don’t know how long I’d been lost in thought, but the stillness of the bar was abruptly shattered by the loud ringing of the bell, announcing the arrival of a customer.

"Welcome."

"...Well, look who it is. Isn’t that Ophelia? Didn’t you get a job somewhere else?"

"There were some circumstances. Long time no see. What can I get you?"

"The usual, of course. But hey, why so stiff? I’m a regular, you know. How about calling me 'sis'?"

"As you wish."

"Ah, ignoring me again, huh? It’s been a while since I’ve seen that reaction."

It was one of our regulars, someone who came by nearly every day.

I always wondered how someone could drink so frequently without damaging their liver. They were a memorable customer, if only for their clingy personality that made it a hassle to shake them off.

Setting aside the glass I’d been polishing, I pulled out a clean one and began preparing her drink.

Rum, lime, and cola.

While many bars used pre-squeezed lime juice, here, the boss insisted on using fresh ingredients, so I reached for a fresh lime.

After washing it, I cut it into small pieces and gently crushed them in the glass to release the juice. Then, I measured out an ounce of rum, poured it over the lime, and added clear ice cubes, ensuring no air bubbles were trapped, thanks to the magic used to freeze them. Finally, I topped it off with cola and gave it a gentle stir.

I finished it with a slice of lime for garnish and handed the drink to the regular.

"One Cuba Libre."

"Thanks."

Gulp, gulp.

I always wondered how she drank carbonated drinks without flinching. As soon as she received her drink, she downed it in one go with a satisfied smile.

"Ahh, now that’s the stuff. You’ve got to start with this to get going."

It wasn’t a particularly strong drink, so she didn’t seem drunk, but the happiness on her face made me curious about something I’d always wanted to ask.

"...You always start with this. Is there a reason you insist on having a Cuba Libre as your first drink?"

"Huh? Oh, it’s nothing special. A Cuba Libre makes me think of freedom, you know?"

"That’s true."

There’s a story about an American soldier during the Cuban War of Independence who mixed Cuban rum with American cola, giving birth to the cocktail. Its very name means "Free Cuba."

"So, it’s like celebrating freedom from a tough day’s work. That’s why I always have it as my first drink!"

"I see. Sounds like you had a rough day."

"Don’t even get me started. My subordinates don’t listen, and my superiors are breathing down my neck... I’m exhausted. Ah, make my next drink a gin and tonic."

"Right away."

So that’s the reason? I’d always thought it was simply her favorite drink.

As I prepared the next drink, I couldn’t help but reflect on the significance of her choice.

"...By the way, why are you back? I heard you got another job."

"Ah..."

I hadn’t been thinking about it, but the faces of my students suddenly flashed through my mind.

How were they doing? I missed them already, even though it hadn’t been long.

Noticing my expression darken, the regular seemed to realize she’d struck a nerve and hurriedly changed the subject.

"Forget it. You don’t have to answer. Just think of it as the ramblings of a drunken fool."

"Shall I? Then please stop rambling."

"...Wow, I don’t even know how to respond to that."

She chuckled nervously and took a sip of the fresh drink I’d handed her, the tension easing from her face.

Worried the mood might drop too much, I decided to say something to lift it back up.

"But really, it’s fine. I’ve done everything I set out to do."

"Oh? That’s good to hear."

"Yeah. The ending wasn’t great, but I managed to accomplish what I wanted."

"Well, that’s all that matters! Another Cuba Libre, please!"

"Of course."

Even though it wasn’t a strong drink, three quick rounds without food made me worry a little. I hoped she wouldn’t end up too drunk to stand.

As I handed her the next drink, she pushed the glass toward me.

"Uh, miss?"

"This one’s on me. Drink up."

"Wait, what?"

"What’s with the surprise? Consider it a farewell gift."

With a slightly flushed face from the alcohol, she smiled and motioned for me to drink.

"Quitting a job means losing your income, but it also means gaining a bit of freedom. Isn’t that a beautiful word?"

"...But I’m already working here again. Plus, I’m on the clock."

"Oh, come on! It’s still freedom, right? Are you really going to pass up free booze just because of a technicality? All you have to do is mix drinks and wash glasses. Being a little tipsy won’t hurt."

"Is that so?"

"Boss! Good to see you."

"Hey there. Working hard, I see."

Right at that moment, the boss returned from her quick errand, overhearing the tail end of our conversation. She sighed and looked at me.

"Go ahead, drink."

"Wait, but I’m working—"

"You’ve slacked off when there was nothing to do before. Just for today, I’ll allow it."

"Hell yeah!"

"Why are you celebrating? You’ve never even bought me a drink. Are you just enchanted by her looks, huh?"

"Ow, ow, my head! Okay, okay, I get it! I’ll buy you one too! Just stop!"

"You should’ve said that from the start."

"Who treats a friend like this?"

"You’re worse for never buying me a drink."

"You run a bar! You’re surrounded by booze every day!"

As the boss and the regular bantered back and forth, I stared down at the glass in front of me.

A drink that symbolized freedom.

I’d made it countless times as a bartender, but I’d never actually tasted it.

Freedom.

Maybe, after all this time in this world, I was finally experiencing it.

I had been so focused on giving my students a happy ending that I hadn’t stopped to think about anything else.

But now, with that goal accomplished, maybe I was finally free to enjoy my own life.

Carefully, I took a sip from the chilled glass.

"How is it?"

"...It’s delicious. Tastes like freedom."

"Right?"

The sweet flavor of cola mixed with the citrusy scent and tang of lime, masking the faint bitterness of the alcohol beneath.

I could finally understand why she liked it so much.

"Ophelia, make me a Moscow Mule."

"I’ll have a margarita."

"Coming right up."

The boss, the regular, and I continued chatting, the alcohol fueling our conversation.

Our talk was filled with trivial things—how the new hire had messed up today, or how dealing with the boss’s demands was exhausting.

Compared to the days of swords, magic, empresses, and Watchers, these concerns seemed utterly mundane.

And yet, because of that, it felt like I had finally returned to a peaceful, ordinary life.

Like a hero in a game who saves the world and then quietly vanishes.

I had saved my students and returned to the everyday.

Sigh.

Anastasia let out a deep sigh, prompting one of the nearby clerics to ask her a question.

"Is something troubling you, Your Holiness?"

"It’s nothing."

"If the workload is too much, perhaps you should take a brief rest? You haven’t had a proper break recently..."

"I’ll do that. Could you leave me for a moment?"

"Of course."

Anastasia had been busy with her duties as the Pope and hadn’t returned to the academy in quite some time.

The absence of the Pope wasn’t keenly felt, as the clerics kept encouraging her to enjoy her youth while she could. They told her she could trust them to handle things for a year or two.

But despite their reassurances, Anastasia wasn’t focusing on her duties for the stability of the church.

Rather, she was working desperately to forget something.

Huff.

Hypnosis.

Ophelia had once mentioned that she could use such abilities.

...Was that why Orca, who had always been wary, so easily opened up to her?

At first, Anastasia had thought Ophelia’s counseling skills were simply exceptional, which was why she had become a teacher at the academy.

But what if it wasn’t that?

What if Ophelia had used hypnosis to open up people’s minds?

If that was the case, it cast a shadow of doubt over all of Anastasia’s memories with her.

Her casual conversations with Ophelia.

The advice Ophelia had given her.

...Even the memory of deciding to kill her father.

Anastasia squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the exhaustion from days of relentless work.

The memory of deciding to kill her father—what if that had been manipulated?

What if it hadn’t been her own choice, but the result of Ophelia’s hypnotic suggestion?

What if there had been a way to save her father?

Desperately trying to suppress these thoughts, Anastasia forced herself to dive back into her work.