Dragon City, a bustling metropolis nestled by the East Sea, had stood proudly through centuries of change, watching the tides of history with calm indifference.

It was a summer evening, and the city had just begun to settle. The golden rays of sunset scattered across the skyscrapers like powdered gold, softening the hard edges of its urban steel.

After a day of chasing money, people switched into a different gear—one of neon, music, and desire.

Tucked beside the tranquil Spring Lake was Ecstasy & Elegance, one of the most famous bars in the city. Hidden between European-style villas, its name alone was enough to make people curious. But those who had tasted its cocktails knew it wasn't just the name that made it unforgettable.

Inside, the bar was already full before the night had even started. Some regulars would even ditch dates just to sip a favorite drink in its warm glow.

Amid the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses, a silver Audi Q7 pulled up to the entrance.

A long, pale leg stepped out, clad in a striking red heel. A playful breeze lifted the slit of her black evening gown, revealing smooth curves and an elegant silhouette. Her pinned-up hair danced, and heads turned.

She walked in slowly. Waiters immediately greeted her with polite smiles, leading her to the best seat at the bar.

This seat had been reserved—no one else ever sat there. From this spot, one could see the entire bar, as well as the reflection of the moon shimmering on Spring Lake.

Few knew she was the owner. Her name was Lilac, and she was not only beautiful but also the top mixologist in all of Dragon City. They said she could identify a hundred cocktails by smell and could name a whiskey’s brand and age with her eyes closed. In fact, some claimed her tongue and nose were worth more than the bar itself.

Every evening, she came to try one drink, offering comments only she could give. It was her presence that kept the bar's cocktails legendary.

“Which one tonight, Boss?” a waiter asked respectfully, bowing slightly.

“One Virgin,” she replied.

The bartender nodded, signaling to a man behind the counter.

This bartender never prepared more than three drinks a day, and always by his own choosing—not the customer’s. But this one was special.

He poured carefully measured ingredients into a crystal shaker. His hands danced—confident and elegant—turning simple alcohol into a flowing performance. The red drink poured into a martini glass, letting out a scent that teased and charmed the senses.

Lilac swirled it slowly, her lips curled slightly. “Perfect.”

The compliment, though only one word, lit up the bartender's face like a thousand-dollar tip.

Then came a voice, jarring and offensive:

“This ain’t no virgin. Looks more like... a used one.”

People turned. A filthy man, dressed in rags, sat nearby, legs crossed, picking his foot like he was home. Even five meters away, people could smell the stench. A few muttered, “What the hell, is he a homeless construction worker?”

The man scratched his messy hair, puffing on a handmade cigarette. His eyes, half-hidden in smoke, flickered with a cold indifference.

“I crawled out of a crack in a rock,” he muttered.

The waiter stepped forward, ready to kick him out.

Lilac raised her hand to stop him.

No one had ever dared insult her drinks. But instead of anger, curiosity lit her eyes.

“Are you saying the drink isn’t good, or that we don’t know how to make it?”

The man leaned in, picking up the lipstick-stained glass with the same hand that had just been in his shoe.

He took a sip, frowned, and said, “Tastes like crap. Ten bucks of roadside baijiu would beat this.”

Gasps echoed across the bar.

Someone whispered, “Get this bum outta here!”

Lilac kept her smile. “So, you’ve tasted something better?”

He shrugged. “If I make a Virgin that satisfies you, will you give it to me for free?”

Lilac nodded. “Deal.”

The bartender smirked. “Let’s see this clown embarrass himself.”

“Wait!” the man said. “If you really like it... I want one kiss.”

The bar froze.

A madman! Filthy and brazen!

Lilac’s smile didn’t change. “Fine.”

He nodded. His face lost its teasing edge. “Then I need a bottle of good whiskey.”

The bartender scoffed but handed one over. “Enough to clean your face?”

The man uncorked the bottle and began to wash his hands with it.

Shock rippled across the room. That was Dewar’s! A prized malt!

He stepped behind the bar. The bartender, sneering, stepped aside.

“15 ounces of gin. 1 teaspoon of triple sec. Half a teaspoon of lemon juice. A dash of grenadine... and a little wasabi.”

“Wasabi?!” the bartender choked.

Lilac gave a nod. “Give him what he needs.”