After asking around, Werther learned that if he wanted authentic flower wine, his best bet was to go to a Bar called Flower Language.
Werther winced at the name. What kind of Bar was called Flower Language? It sounded more like a flower shop.
Still, for the sake of that wine, which was supposed to taste quite good, he headed toward Flower Language without hesitation.
Walking through the streets of the Island of Love and Flowers, Werther could feel the island's prosperity and peace, evident in both the well-dressed pedestrians and the wide assortment of shops lining the streets.
This island was nothing like Tutu Island had been. Tutu Island's prosperity had been an Abomination, while this place prospered simply because it was so rich in resources.
The island's one great product was flowers—exceptionally fine flowers.
Perfume made from them was wildly popular with noblewomen, much like Chanel had been in his previous life.
And perfume was far from the only thing the flowers produced. There was premium honey, flower wine, flower tea, and more.
About twenty minutes later, Werther finally arrived at the Bar called Flower Language.
The Bar was nothing like he had imagined.
Flower Language, what an elegant name. But looking at the old, worn Bar before him, he felt a strong sense of dissonance.
Werther went into the Bar anyway.
Inside, it was much like any ordinary Bar: waist-high swinging doors, several round tables beyond them, and a counter at the back.
Though the Bar was somewhat old, it was roomier than it looked from outside. The floor, tables, and chairs were spotless. Years of polishing had left the grain of the round wooden tables smooth and gleaming. All in all, it was a pleasant place.
Werther took a seat at the counter, and the bartender