It was a night like any other.

You were heading home along a familiar path after finishing work.

In the alley you always passed, a sign you had never seen before was lit up.

The name written under the greenish light:

Afterimage

You stopped walking for a moment.

You had walked this path often, but you had never seen a bar like this. Yet strangely, the feeling of it being the first time was weak. It felt as if it might have been there all along.

You were stressed out, and the thought of just having a drink before going home came naturally.

You opened the door.

There was no sound of a bell. Even the sound of the door closing was unnervingly quiet.

The inside was wider than expected, and there were more customers than it seemed from the outside.

But the atmosphere was peculiar.

The sound of conversation was low, and there was almost no laughter. Every single customer held their glass with a vacant expression.

Rather than being drunk, their faces were lost in thought.

It was as if everyone had come to sort something out.

You sat in an empty seat and opened the menu.

Only the names of the drinks are written, with no prices. There are no descriptions either.

After you stared at it for a few more seconds, the bartender quietly pushed a candle a little closer to the menu.

She didn't say a word, but strangely, you didn't feel pressured.

You eventually choose one.

The bartender nodded without a word.

Only then do you look at her closely. The bartender was alone.

Despite there being so many customers, there is no waste in her movements.

She is neither hurried nor rushing. It feels as if time flows slowly only around her.

The shaker shakes. The clear sound of ice clinking is heard distinctly.

At that moment, you casually glanced at the clock.

It felt like quite a bit of time had passed since you opened the door and entered, but the minute hand had barely moved.

When you looked up again, the glass was already finished.

An emerald-colored cocktail.

It looked as if the light was passing through the liquid and following a little late.

As you tilted the glass slightly, the color flowed a beat behind.

The moment you smell the aroma, a memory of a past night flashes by.

An emotion too vague to put into words.

The bartender sets the glass down.

And then she looks at you. Her light green eyes meet yours calmly.

After a brief silence, a quiet sentence follows.