The Unleashed Sin

The bar was noisy.

But it was not loud enough to drown out the woman's voice. Behind the counter, a bartender who looked to be in his forties, weary-faced but sharp-eyed, was wiping a glass.

He looked up at the woman, a flicker of amazement crossing his eyes, but it was quickly covered by professional courtesy.

"Good morning, ma'am. We don't have a Free World, only a Cuba Libre. The menu's over there. What'll you have?" the bartender asked, his voice a little hoarse.

"How disappointing." The woman tilted her head slightly, her gaze sweeping over the liquor shelves, then spoke softly, her voice low and pleasant, carrying a strange magnetism.

"Then give me a glass of—your strongest liquor. Don't mix in anything unnecessary." The woman's finger circled on the counter, her tone carrying a warning.

All sorts of people gathered here.

The bartender had long since seen it all.

He nodded, turned around, and took down an unlabeled dark-brown bottle from the highest shelf. Then the man expertly poured a small glass of amber liquid.

He pushed it in front of the woman.

"Homemade whiskey. Aged fifteen years. Strong enough." As the bartender spoke, his gaze couldn't help falling on the woman again—she stood out too much.

She was completely out of place in the decadent atmosphere of this early-morning bar, yet somehow blended into it strangely.

"Don't often see a new face at this hour. Where're you from? Looking at you—you don't seem like you just got off the night shift, and you don't look like an insomniac either." Bartenders and taxi drivers both had the skill of small talk.

"Mm.

The woman's slender fingers wrapped around the glass, but she did not drink immediately. She gently swirled the liquid inside, her gaze drifting toward the bar's small,