City of Witches Chapter 323

1 PM.

The day of the grand opening had dawned.

Siwoo, who had been studying hospitality etiquette all night and even into the morning, suddenly looked out the window and experienced heartburn for the first time in a while.

“Takasho, what is that? It’s a bit scary.”

“That’s what I should be saying… How on earth have you been living your life?”

The alley leading to the Malcut Gallery, visible between the curtains, was packed with people.

To be more precise, Witches were lined up in a queue.

Both Takasho, who had experienced all sorts of hardships in Gehenna, and Siwoo, who had shared a life of slavery with him.

It was the first time in their lives they had seen such a long procession of Witches.

And the shop hadn’t even opened its doors yet.

It wasn’t hard to guess that Periwinkle had strategically spread some rumors.

“Hoo… This is an opportunity. To leave a deep impression on our future customers… I can do this…”

“We should start getting ready soon.”

Takasho, who had been muttering beside him, suddenly pulled Siwoo into a tight hug.

Customers lined up in front of the shop like a string of Vienna sausages, waiting to enter—it was a sight he hadn’t even seen in his dreams.

While feeling burdened about how to handle all of them, he couldn’t help but feel grateful to Siwoo.

“Thank you so much, my friend. I won’t let this opportunity you’ve given me slip away.”

“We help each other out. I’ve benefited a lot thanks to you too, so don’t be so formal about it.”

Even though Siwoo had predicted the situation more accurately than Takasho, seeing it firsthand evoked different emotions.

Of course, he hadn’t agreed to help Takasho with the intention of selling his body.

Siwoo’s role was strictly that of a bait product.

He planned to spend about 15 minutes per table, making the rounds.

Only Witches who purchased the highest-priced drinks would be permitted, as a service, to request him for about an hour, and a second round was naturally not allowed.

He intended to help out for roughly two weeks, drawing enough attention to attract customers even without the presence of a male witch.

“Takasho. But can I really do this well?”

But honestly, putting that aside, he wasn’t very confident.

If it were just talking, there’d be no problem, but what Siwoo had to do was ‘hospitality.’

Moreover, dealing with such a large number of notoriously picky Witches…

“What are you talking about? You’ll do great. I’m sure of it.”

Takasho looked at him as if he’d said something strange.

He didn’t know where Takasho had gotten such blind faith.

Finally, he checked his appearance in the mirror.

A neatly slicked-back all-back hairstyle and clothes that hung loosely like a swallow’s tail—what was supposed to be pretty about this?

Takasho had even recommended a monocle with a chain, but Siwoo firmly refused.

Sometimes, the aesthetic standards of Witches were truly baffling.

“Well then, shall we write a legend?”

“Sounds good, my friend.”

The two men in perfectly fitted suits walked steadily toward the main entrance.

It was a historic afternoon marking the official opening of Gehenna’s first host bar, Rose Glass.

“It is an honor to serve you, Madam Witch.

Given the number of guests visiting compared to the size of our establishment, we are issuing waiting tickets to provide the best possible service.

If you provide your Remote Scrying Orb contact information, we will notify you immediately when your turn arrives.

For those who find coming and going inconvenient, lounges have been prepared on the second and third floors where you can relax and pass the time. Please feel free to use them as you wish.”

Just because many customers had arrived didn’t mean they should be admitted indiscriminately.

The host bar could accommodate a maximum of about 30 people at a time.

If a high-end-oriented host bar, meant to maintain a quiet and luxurious atmosphere, turned into a chaotic marketplace, it would be nothing short of a disaster.

Therefore, Takasho divided the schedule into four parts and issued waiting tickets, limiting the maximum number of customers per day to 120.

Additionally, as a gesture of apology and gratitude to the waiting Witches, mid-tier alcoholic beverages were provided free of charge, so the hospitality began without any major issues.

“Table 12 is out of snacks. Restock. They seem to like cheese, so focus on Stilton cheese.”

“Yes!”

“Table 2 ordered wine, so prepare the decanter. Did the caviar arrive?”

“It arrived early this morning.”

“Taste it, and if the condition is good, serve it together.”

“Yes, Manager.”

Takasho busily moved around to handle service and guidance, receiving any complaints and checking if the staff were properly attending to the guests.

Today, he wasn’t serving as a host himself but was acting as the manager, responsible for communication between the kitchen and the floor.

With a former hotel chef and a sommelier on staff, the service here was unlikely to be lacking.

“Good day, Madam Witch. It’s an honor to serve you. My name is Liam.”

“My name is Paul.”

The Witches, escorted to their seats, and the hosts making their entrance.

Each seat was equipped with stand-type partitions for privacy and a sense of security.

Following Periwinkle’s advice, pre-chilled Dom Pérignon and snacks were provided as standard.

Of course, dim lighting was maintained to set the mood, and a phonograph was playing.

He was also considering hiring a live band later if business improved.

“I can’t just rely on Siwoo.”

The Witches still didn’t have an accurate concept of what a ‘host bar’ was.

To put it bluntly, it was like the first mala tang restaurant to land in Korea.

While selling the dazzling ‘Shin Siwoo’ like sticky-sweet sweet and sour pork, how far could they convey the true taste of mala tang to the Witches?

This venture, and along with it, Takasho’s life, depended on it.

Yet, even in such a precarious situation, he felt joy and excitement.

“Ah… I am alive.”

The business floor filled with customers and the popping sounds of champagne coming from everywhere.

The soft laughter of the small, fearsome young ladies, unpredictable as to when it might change.

Memories of working in Kabukichō surfaced, making his blood boil.

He started as a low-ranking employee, crammed into a dormitory with six colleagues.

He cleaned the shared bathroom used by thirty people and chugged champagne by the bucketful to receive even one more bottle as a gift.

He burned through his youth, defeating all rivals and climbing the rankings.

His bicycle turned into a Porsche, his 400-square-foot lodging transformed into a penthouse.

The host bar where he spent his life until there was no one on the night streets who didn’t know the name Takasho.

The battlefield where the dreams of a man who thought he would never rise again had lain dormant.

On those streets, Takasho had always dreamed of becoming the king of the night.

Though it all turned to bubbles when a truck suddenly crashed into him, leading to his reincarnation in another world.

But now, at last.

He had seized the chance to dream again.

And not just any chance—an opportunity to run an ultra-luxurious host bar he could never have even imagined back on Earth.I won't tolerate even the smallest mistake.

"I came here to meet some guy who claims to be a male witch or something? You've been talking fancy since earlier, saying you'll make me happy? What arrogant nonsense."

Takasho, who had been alert to his surroundings, caught the first voice of complaint with his ears.

This was fully expected.

He had already prepared response manuals and staff training for such situations.

But first, it would be better to demonstrate with seasoned skill.

Takasho took a breath and slipped through the standing blinds.

There sat a Slavic Witch with brown hair, wearing an extremely displeased expression.

"Good evening, Witch Sila Christian. I'm the manager, Mimaya Takasho."

The moment Takasho appeared, the Witch's eyes widened.

"What, you know my name?"

Because since she had been sitting here, she had never once introduced herself, yet this manager who suddenly appeared knew her name.

"I happened to hear a friend call your name at the Malcut Gallery last time."

Of course, that was a lie.

He had simply memorized the names and faces of all the prominent Witches within Gehenna and those residing around Renomond Town in preparation for today.

Because they could become important customers.

A true host not only remembers the names of customers who have visited once but also memorizes the names of those who haven't visited yet.

"You were so strikingly beautiful that I still remember."

Takasho smoothly transitioned from extreme honorifics to natural respectful language, kneeling on one knee to match her eye level.

But a Witch this fussy wouldn't have her anger dissolved by this much.

Sila's face, which had briefly shown surprise, was still filled with displeasure.

"Tsk, anyway, that's fine. Do you think I'm a Witch with enough free time to wait for some man here?"

"What can I do to earn your forgiveness?"

"Forgiveness? You think you can ask me for forgiveness?"

At first glance, she seemed to continue being angry, but her momentum had clearly diminished compared to the beginning.

It meant Takasho's strategy was working quite effectively.

At this timing, Takasho looked straight into Sila's eyes.

"If my sincerity reaches you, I'll do anything."

If a customer is upset, apologize.

But never show a servile appearance.

Witches are fundamentally high-handed and tightly wrapped in a sense of authority.

But even so, they are undoubtedly women.

A man who trembles in fear when faced with irritation only provokes more irritation and never becomes a plus factor.

"Is that so?"

Sila twisted her lips and took off her shoe.

She filled the shoe to the brim with the opened Dom Pérignon.

Then, with an expression that said, 'You can't possibly do this, right?' she gave a sadistic smile.

Ridiculously, such childish power struggles frequently occur in host bars.

"Drink this cleanly... huh?"

Before Sila could even finish speaking, Takasho picked up the shoe and cleanly emptied the champagne inside.

Then, with a slight smile, he asked back.

His refreshing smile showed no trace of unpleasantness.

And no wonder—Dom Pérignon from a beauty's high heel was an incredible reward.

"Has your mood improved a bit with this?"

Perhaps not expecting him to accept such humiliation without any hesitation, Sila instead stiffened.

Leaving the dazed, frozen her behind, Takasho rose from his seat and straightened his disheveled clothes.

"I can't say I've been fully forgiven with this, but I would appreciate it if you could show a bit more understanding."

As he turned around as if his business here was done, Sila hastily spoke up.

"W-wait a moment...!"

"Yes, I'm listening."

"What if you really drank that when I told you to? Don't you have any self-respect?"

"If it can ease your anger even a little, I have no need for my petty self-respect."

It took less than a minute for Sila's expression, which had been filled with irritation, to become dotted with bewilderment.

When dealing with customer complaints, it's good to let them vent their anger fully.

Even if she's a Witch, she's a hothouse flower within Gehenna.

Before Takasho, a veteran of a hundred battles who has dealt with all sorts of difficult customers—from Japanese hostess club girls to wealthy middle-aged women—she was nothing more than a fresh young girl.

At this timing, an exaggerated remark with a slight hint of Gehenna fragrance.

"Although it may not be fully satisfying, we are doing our best to make a single blossom of a smile bloom on your face, Sila-nim. My only wish is that you have even a slightly enjoyable time.

As an apology, I'll bring out a slightly better wine. Could you wait just a moment? Of course, I'll cover the cost."

"......"

Sila's expression softened considerably, even showing a hint of apology.

The offer to bring better wine was also a thoroughly calculated statement.

Women become most generous when their anger has subsided and when they feel a slight sense of guilt.

As expected, Sila refused Takasho's free service.

"Forget it, I should pay for the wine I drink. I was being unreasonable. Give me this."

"You don't have to..."

"Give me this. Two bottles—one for me and one for my friend here."

"I'll bring them promptly."

Though she acted primly with her arms crossed, Sila stole glances at Takasho's retreating back.

Takasho could feel it even from behind.

Melting away the anger of women who were furious, making fussy women want to see him and visit again.

Isn't this the true pleasure of being a host?

Takasho focused on managing his expression.

The manager couldn't wander around with a foolish smile.

He returned to circulating the establishment, checking on the reception status.

"I wonder if Siwoo is doing well?"

Thinking back to when he dealt with Periwinkle, and seeing all the photos of various Witches stored on his phone, there probably wasn't much to worry about, but...

Takasho quietly moved his steps toward the central seat where Siwoo was attending to customers.