Omega Manual chapter 24

I was wrong

The scene on the day of the beer festival was even more lively than Shelley had imagined. If he hadn’t seen the crowds outside the window with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed that Leisau, a small fringe city, actually housed such an exaggerated number of people.

He had a rare good night’s sleep the night before, but was awakened by the boiling noise downstairs at seven in the morning.

Pulling back the curtains, he saw that the street in the distance was packed with people, and everywhere there were red and green banners and ribbons. The signs of various vendors had been changed to beer patterns, and as soon as the windows were cracked open, ears were filled with loud shouts.

Shelley walked out of the room, splashed cold water on his face from the tap, which helped him wake up a bit. Before long, he was washed up and even tied his hair.

Perhaps it was an illusion, but he felt that the sunlight pouring into the room that day was brighter than usual. He used to dislike overly noisy atmospheres, but this time, he felt that a bit of excitement was actually quite nice.

However, when he walked out of the bathroom, Irey’s bedroom was still tightly closed.

During his stay in Leisau these few days, Irey always woke up earlier than him, but today he had already finished washing up, and there was still no movement from the other bedroom.

Shelley hesitated outside the door for a moment, then raised his hand and knocked.

First, no one responded, then there was the sound of someone turning over inside the room, followed by Irey’s nasal response, “Come in.”

Shelley gripped the doorknob in annoyance. He just wanted to ask Irey why he hadn’t gotten up yet, but he was acting as if he were the boss.

Despite this, he still opened the door and walked in.

Irey’s bedroom where he slept was not even half the size of his own room, and he had barely taken a couple of steps before his calves almost bumped into the foot of the bed.

If there were a contest for the “messiest sleeping position ever,” Irey Halton would surely be a top contender. He lay on his back in bed, the blanket squeezed to the edge, with only one corner barely resting on his arm, his limbs arranged in a capital “W,” and the sheets wrinkled.

“What time is it?” Irey asked without opening his eyes, his voice muffled.

“Seven twenty-five,” Shelley replied impatiently, walking over and pulling a handful of blanket, “Can’t you have a better sleeping posture? The blanket is about to fall off!”

And his clothes were all wrinkled together, with his thighs and abdomen blatantly exposed.

Irey grunted in response, lazily pulling his legs back. However, his ankle happened to catch the blanket in Shelley’s hand, and with a tug, the latter stumbled forward, his cheek hitting Irey’s chest solidly.

The cotton shirt was incredibly soft from sleep, carrying Irey’s scent like the bedding. The warmth seeped through the thin fabric, slightly higher than usual.

This time Irey finally opened his eyes, cunningly looking at his boss who was leaning on him, “Why the early morning cuddle?”

Shelley just pulled the blanket over and pressed it against Irey’s face.

Irey struggled for a while, and Shelley calmly stood up, wiping his hands with a tissue.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” Shelley asked.

“Um… yeah,” Irey struggled out from under the blanket, leaning against the headboard and running a hand through his messy hair, “I guess, I have a bit of a headache.”

Shelley paused, suddenly realizing something, “Are you…”

“I’m fine,” Irey yawned, getting up from bed, “Give me two minutes to freshen up, then we’ll go out. It’s the beer festival today, and people outside are going crazy, like they’ve had ten shots of adrenaline. You’d better not wear anything too flashy, and don’t take any valuables out.”

With that, he walked out of the room, yawning as he drifted into the bathroom. Shelley frowned, his gaze following Irey’s figure until he disappeared behind the door.

Fortunately, Irey didn’t take long to come out of the bathroom, looking as lively as usual. He put on his clothes and pants, then picked up the keys from the table, just in time to see Shelley neatly dressed, fastening the topmost button.

“Are you going out like that?” he asked.

Shelley’s hand paused for a moment, looking up, “What’s wrong with it?”

“Didn’t I tell you not to wear anything too flashy?” Irey said, “You probably got your wallet picked at the bar just by looking like a rich guy.”

“I already picked the least conspicuous outfit,” Shelley grabbed the collar of his coat, glaring at Irey, “Isn’t this okay?”

Irey glanced at him. A light green shirt matched with a dark blue suit, with buttons adorned with delicate diamonds.

“You rich people,” he sighed.

Before Shelley could react, Irey walked up to him, swiftly removed his coat, turned it inside out, then put it back on him.

“Much better,” he patted Shelley on the shoulder, “Let’s go.”

Shelley had never seen so many people crowded on one street in his life.

Or rather, before stepping out, he couldn’t imagine how a narrow alleyway could cram eight or nine people, three food carts, and six or seven cups of beer full to the brim.

Standing on this street was not a matter of “walking,” but being squeezed like a sausage in a sandwich by the dense crowd, with no autonomy.

The sound of fIreyworks, balloons bursting, the sizzle of barbecue on fIrey, the aroma of food mingling with the sweat of the crowd, beer clinking everywhere, everyone’s faces beaming with excitement.

Shelley felt suffocated in this excessive noise, especially being short and inexperienced in navigating through crowds, he was pushed somewhere in a matter of seconds, unable to move on his own.

“Boss!” that familiar lazy voice rang out, a hand raised from the crowd.

That hand became Shelley’s lifeline, and he struggled forward, finally grabbing it.

Irey pulled Shelley out of the crowd with a strong force.

“Be careful,” he said, putting his arm around Shelley’s shoulder, “It’s easy to get lost here.”

“It’s because you walk too fast,” Shelley complained.

Just then, a voice came from a nearby low-quality speaker:

“Beer! Free limited beer! Limited quantity, first come first served!”

As soon as the speaker fell silent, the crowd erupted.

Following the dIreyction of the voice, Shelley saw a small booth covered with plastic sheeting, with an exaggerated banner, and many people gathered around, creating a lively atmosphere.

“Wait here for a moment,” Irey said before diving into the crowd. Before Shelley could start to panic, he reappeared with a large cup of beer and a paper bag.

“Are you an eel?” Shelley looked at him in shock.

“Squeezing through crowds is a necessary skill in the Lower City,” Irey laughed, raising the cup in his hand, “Want some?”

Shelley glanced at the so-called beer in the cup, its color so light it was almost invisible, with only a thin layer of foam floating on the surface. It was hard for him to associate this liquid with beer if he hadn’t been told.

“I’ll pass,” he declined decisively, “You go ahead.”

“Then how about this? Want to give it a try?” Irey peeled open the paper bag, revealing a steaming, crispy and fragrant pastry.

The small pastry was fried to a golden crisp, smelled delicious, and didn’t seem to have any issues. Shelley hesitated for a moment, then nodded and took it from Irey’s hand.

He happened to be hungry too.

As he took the first bite, he secretly congratulated himself. He thought he was someone who could adapt well, accepting downtown food in such a short time.

If not for that, he wouldn’t have been able to enjoy the beer festival with Irey that day, temporarily setting aside all his unhappiness.

But the next moment, he sensed something was wrong. As he chewed, a fiery spiciness quickly spread in his mouth, aggressively taking over his entire palate. He struggled to swallow that mouthful of pastry, but the spiciness showed no signs of dissipating; instead, it intensified.

“So spicy!” His eyes watered from the heat, fanning his mouth while gasping for air.

Irey promptly handed him a cup of ice-cold beer. “Drink this.”

Shelley had no choice but to accept the beer and gulp it down.

While the spiciness was somewhat suppressed, after the beer went down, a bitterness he had never tasted before began to pervade his mouth recklessly.

He handed the cup back to Irey, coughing awkwardly.

“How is it?” Irey looked at him expectantly.

“So bitter!” Shelley’s face twisted in disgust. “How can beer be this bitter?”

Irey burst into laughter, his laughter quickly drowned in the noisy crowd.

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you! Intentionally giving me such spicy pastry and making me drink such awful beer!” Shelley kicked Irey’s butt fiercely.

Only now did he dare to be so rude and unsightly, knowing that the crowd drowned out everything, and no one would notice him. Everyone was happily enjoying themselves in their own rude ways.

Irey laughed heartily, paying no attention to his image either. When Shelley was about to kick him again, he agilely wrapped his arms around Shelley’s shoulders, resting his chin on his neck and gently rubbing against it.

“I’m sorry, boss,” he pleaded with a smile, warm air softly brushing against the back of Shelley’s neck. “What do you want to eat? My treat.”