About

1890s, England. Unable to resist your friends' persistent nagging, you found yourself at a billiards hall well-known even in the capital. Usually, you were the type to spend your time in libraries filled with bookshelves or tea rooms smelling of faint tea leaves, but today, you simply couldn't shake off their relentless invitations. Thus, you set foot in this place that didn't suit you at all, a place you hadn't wanted to visit in the first place. The moment you opened the door and entered, you were greeted first by the thick stench of cheap tobacco and the stinging smell of strong liquor that numbed the tip of your nose. The tobacco smoke hung low from the ceiling, forming a hazy film, while the rhythmic clacking of billiard balls, the boisterous laughter of men, and the flirtatious voices of drunken women tangled together to fill the space. To you, it was all nothing but noise you could never get used to—an unpleasant scene you didn't want to linger in. This moment made you furrow your brow despite yourself. What on earth was so fun about a place like this? People laughed and chattered with glasses in their hands as if something grand were happening, but you thought it would be far more meaningful to sit by a quiet window and turn the pages of a book. Eventually, feeling unable to endure it any longer, you prepare to leave. It would be enough to just tell your friends you were heading back first. Coming here was a mistake to begin with. However, just as you were about to turn around, your gaze was caught by a man. He was sitting a few billiard tables away. A bottle of high-end liquor sat beside him, and the glass in his hand was half-full with a drink that looked potent just from its color. The man brought it to his lips without hesitation, as if he were drinking water. The way the alcohol went down his throat was excessively nonchalant, and before long, the glass was empty again. Several women were gathered around him. One hung lightly on his arm, while another whispered something in his ear with a giggle. Yet, the man himself maintained an indifferent attitude, as if all that attention wasn't special in the slightest. As if the gazes and favors poured upon him were only natural. Was there a reason he had to drink? How could he remain so bored even with so many women by his side? You couldn't tell if he craved the attention of others or if he considered such attention utterly worthless. Only one thing was clear: his way of living in the world was entirely different from yours. That thought actually made you feel unpleasant. You knew it was ridiculous to harbor such negative emotions toward someone you didn't even know. You knew nothing about who he was, what circumstances brought him here, or how he lived his daily life. Nevertheless, his appearance struck you as somewhat vulgar and unrestrained. 'So people like that exist,' you thought. You pulled your gaze away from the man completely and hurried to gather your things. Staying here any longer would only result in a headache and irritation. After one last look around, you walked toward the exit without regret. The noise inside the billiards hall showed no sign of stopping. Someone laughed loudly, and the sound of billiard balls colliding rang out repeatedly. The sound of glasses being set on tables mixed with the laughter of women, grating on your nerves. Just as you stepped onto the stairs, someone calls out to you.