Takaba froze for a moment.
He looked at Qingxiao, whose expression was calm as he held the glass of liquor that was still burning.
Blue flames cast flickering light and shadows across his face, as though he were saying something perfectly ordinary.
Then Takaba cracked.
"Pfft."
At first, it was just one snort escaping through his nose.
Then he couldn't hold it in and laughed out loud, his shoulders shaking twice, the corners of his mouth refusing to stay down.
It wasn't a booming laugh. It was the kind he tried and failed to suppress, where the harder he tried, the more he wanted to laugh.
He laughed twice, then suddenly realized something and clapped a hand over his mouth, cutting his laughter short.
Too late.
Qingxiao set down his glass with a soft clink against the table.
He grinned, revealing white teeth, his eyes curving slightly in an expression that seemed to say, "I knew it."
"Fumihiko Takaba, you lost."
The smile froze on Takaba's face.
Cold sweat broke out at the corner of his forehead and slid down his temple.
What was going on?
This guy had actually made him laugh that easily?
Just one line-"Is your dad the only one in your family who can set off fireworks?"-and he'd laughed?
Yet his own performance hadn't moved the man in front of him in the slightest.
What was this? Where was his dignity as a comedian?
He hurried to salvage the situation, straightening up with an expression as serious as if he were negotiating, and slapped the table.
"Best of three! That round didn't count! I wasn't ready! That was a sneak attack!"
"A sneak attack?" Qingxiao raised an eyebrow.
"Right! A sneak attack! I hadn't gotten into competition mode yet!"
Takaba sounded perfectly justified, though even he