Omega Manual chapter 21

The Photograph

Irey looked at him in surprise, “Do you know that whiskey is one of the world’s strongest spirits?”

Supporting his chin with his palm, Shelley turned his head towards him. Probably because he had just taken a shower, he hadn’t tied his hair up. The slightly damp, light blonde hair curled naturally at his neck, covering half an ear and the barely visible collarbone under his collar.

“Do you know that judging people by appearance is very rude?” Shelley said.

The bar owner pushed a full glass of whiskey in front of Shelley, who picked it up and raised it slightly towards Irey.

Irey raised an eyebrow, picked up his glass, and clinked it against Shelley’s. The glasses reflected fragmented light in the dim glow, emitting a clear clinking sound.

Shelley tilted his head back, the clear liquid gradually disappearing until the entire glass of whiskey vanished between his crimson lips.

Under Irey’s stunned gaze, Shelley shook the empty glass, his expression unchanged.

“No way—” Irey grabbed his glass and looked at the bar owner, “Did you give him a soft drink?”

The bar owner laughed heartily, “Would I still be in business if I did that? This young man can really hold his liquor.”

Shelley nodded slightly at the owner, “Another one, please.”

“Coming right up.”

Irey incredulously inspected Shelley’s glass repeatedly. It was indeed filled with strong alcohol, with no tricks.

“How can a rich kid like you drink so much?” Irey said in disbelief, “Why?”

“Maybe you misunderstand me a bit,” Shelley sighed, “Before the meteor shower, I also had to work, travel for business, and attend drinking events.”

Irey stared at Shelley’s face for a while. His fair skin had a hint of redness from the alcohol, and his long eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings as he blinked. There was still a bit of liquor at the corner of his lips, making them look moist and full against the backdrop of his long hair.

It must be the alcohol, Irey thought, as he felt a dry thirst in his throat.

“Sorry, I can’t imagine it,” Irey said, taking another sip from his glass.

It was easy to imagine Shelley as a model, actor, or pianist, but thinking of him hustling and socializing in the business world was quite hard.

“But I wasn’t like this when I was working before,” Shelley said with a smile, raising his glass. “I was quite different then.”

“Really?” Irey asked.

“Want to see?” Shelley offered.

It was a hard proposal to refuse, and Irey nodded.

Shelley took out his phone from his pocket, navigated through a bunch of apps with names Irey didn’t recognize, and opened the photo gallery to find a picture.

Irey tilted his head closer.

The photo seemed to be from a company dinner. The table was filled with delicious-looking barbecue, surrounded by a dozen or so people posing for the camera.

At first, Irey didn’t recognize Shelley in the photo. It took several glances before he realized the man at the forefront was him.

Five years ago, Shelley wore a neatly pressed black suit, with a shirt and vest fitting him perfectly, and a meticulously tied tie. His short blond hair just covered half of his ears, and his bangs were fixed with hair gel. He wore thin, frameless glasses on his nose.

In the entire photo, only Shelley wasn’t looking at the camera. Instead, he was looking down at his phone screen, as if he was there not for the dinner but just to work in a different place.

“Is this you?” Irey lifted his head, looking back and forth between the present Shelley and the photo, uncertainly holding up the phone to compare it with Shelley’s face.

The refined features were indeed the same person, but the difference in aura was so significant that it was hard to believe.

“Yes,” Shelley said with a smile, taking the phone from Irey’s hand. “Work was busy back then, and there were many drinking parties. People who hadn’t dined with me didn’t know my drinking capacity and always dragged me along to drink. Once at a company dinner, there were about twenty people, and they said they wouldn’t go home until I was drunk. In the end, everyone else was wasted, and I was the only one still awake. I ended up dragging all those drunks into taxis, one by one. It was a nightmare.”

“That’s impressive,” Irey said sincerely.

“Oh? Still have a working phone?” The bar owner, wiping glasses, looked over curiously.

“Is that a Manta Tech product?” The bar owner pointed to the logo on Shelley’s phone. “I recognize that mark. My family used to buy Manta phones. Those were the days.”

“No,” Shelley smiled at the owner. “It’s just a screen made to look like a phone, with hardly any actual phone functions.”

“Figures,” the owner nodded, sighing with regret. “The phone industry is dead now. Who knows how many years it’ll take to get back to pre-disaster levels. Five years ago, Manta was researching screenless projection and holographic robots. I probably won’t see that in my lifetime…”

Shelley didn’t respond, taking another drink. His second whiskey was quickly gone.

“Another round?” the bar owner asked.

“Please,” Shelley replied.

As Shelley lifted his third drink, Irey reached out and took his glass.

“No matter how good your tolerance, you can’t drink like it’s water,” Irey said. “If you’re thirsty, go buy water.”

Shelley turned to look at Irey intently, making Irey uncomfortable. Unexpectedly, he just stood up and said, “I’m going to the restroom.”

The bar’s restroom was extremely basic, with no distinction between male and female sections, just broken wooden panels dividing the stalls. The mirror above the sink was shattered during some fight and crudely taped back together. Several taps were rusted shut, and Shelley had to try them all before finding one that worked.

Cold water splashed into his palm and flowed through his fingers. He cupped a handful and splashed it on his face, the near-freezing temperature making him shiver.

Water droplets inevitably soaked his hair at the temples, trickling down the strands and finally falling back into the white porcelain sink.

He looked up at the mirror. His reflection was distorted and fragmented, split into many different images. Every fragment stared back at him, their gaze solid and melting, blending into a chaotic and comical mess.

Sometimes, Shelley wished he wasn’t such a good drinker. Then he wouldn’t see someone so pale, confused, disheveled, and pitiful when he looked in the mirror.

Just then, the bathroom door creaked open, startling him. He turned to see Irey Halton entering.

The moment their eyes met, Irey chuckled.

“Boss, you’re like a rabbit, getting scared for no reason.”

“What are you doing here?” Shelley asked irritably.

“Can’t I use the bathroom too?” Irey walked over. “And you have no sense of safety. Who knows how many eyes are on you in the bar, yet you come to the bathroom alone.”

“Assaulting a marked Omega is a crime,” Shelley said nonchalantly. “You can call the police.”

“If I had the time—never mind,” Irey said, pushing open a stall door. “I need to take a piss.”

The flimsy partition did little more than block the view. Shelley could hear Irey undoing his belt, unzipping, and relieving himself.

At this moment, they were the only two in the restroom, and the sounds were as clear as if played next to his ear.

The sound didn’t stop for a long while, making Shelley not even know where to put his hands. His cheeks gradually reddened at a visible speed.

“…How much did you drink?” Shelley muttered.

After a while, the sound finally stopped, followed by the sounds of a zipper and belt buckle, and then the flushing of the toilet.

Irey came out of the cubicle and turned on the tap to wash his hands. “Still want to drink?”

“I came to accompany you in the first place,” Shelley said. “If you still want to drink, let’s continue. If not, we can go back.”

Irey let out a frustrated growl and looked up at Shelley. “That’s the most pretentious statement I’ve heard this year.” 

Shelley smiled.

“Forget it, let’s go back.” Irey turned off the tap and shook the water off his hands. “I can’t outdrink you, and if I get drunk, you won’t be able to carry me. Any plans for tomorrow, boss?”

Shelley glanced at the cracked mirror, where the reflection remained distorted.

“Let’s leave early tomorrow morning.” His voice was a bit hoarse.

“Hmm?” Irey paused his hand-shaking motion. “Leaving tomorrow? Isn’t that too rushed? What about the house you bought?”

“I only bought the house to get a good night’s sleep. I never planned to settle here,” Shelley said. “Didn’t we stay only one night in Sodu too?”

Irey hissed. “Isn’t that just throwing money down the drain—”

“It’s my money, not yours.” Shelley’s voice was weary. “I want to reach Mount Yinbu as soon as possible. The sooner, the better.”

Irey straightened up and looked at Shelley. The latter avoided his gaze, looking instead at the small window on the bathroom wall. A half-torn spider web in the corner shivered in the cold wind.

“Alright, got it.” Irey lowered his head and took out a cigarette. This time, Shelley didn’t stop him, just silently stared at the spider web.

“But, boss, I have a question.” Irey exhaled a puff of smoke.

“What is it?”

“Does the sensitivity period matter to you?” Irey asked.