Band Girls’ Mixology Mission [64]

A sudden shower poured down in the middle of the night. Summer rain always came quickly and left just as fast, falling in an unreserved cascade. The sound of rain splashing outside filtered into dreams, blurring the line between reality and slumber, leaving a faint dampness in the air of one’s unconscious mind.

But to Anon, there was nothing romantic about a dream filled with rain. The damp air, the oppressive atmosphere, the overcast sky—together, they painted the same London scenery that had shattered her dreams.

And just like that, the dream crumbled apart. Anon jolted awake in the middle of the night.

Groggily, she blinked her eyes open. The sound of rain grew clearer, as if the dream had spilled into reality. After a few moments, she finally realized—the rain wasn’t just in her head. It was actually pouring outside.

“A bad dream…” she murmured in a raspy voice. Crawling out from her snug little bed in the tiny closet-like space, she sat on the edge, looking out the window. Under the streetlights, raindrops gathered into streams before cascading down in sheets, pelting the balcony railing and the glass doors.

“Tomorrow’s the first day of school… What if things turn out like they did in London?” Anon anxiously patted her cheeks. If the rain from her dream had so easily become reality, then what if the struggles she remembered—those moments that made her heart sink—repeated themselves at Haneoka?

“No, no, no—” She smacked her cheeks hard, the sound sharp in the quiet room. A slight redness lingered on her skin. “There’s no way that’ll happen again.”

“I’ve already decided to start over. I can’t keep dwelling on the past. Even if I’m just running away, I have to keep moving forward.”

With clenched fists, she threw a few air punches in front of her, hyping herself up. To anyone else, her antics in the dead of night might have seemed borderline ridiculous, but for Anon, it worked. The suffocating weight pressing down on her eased, if only a little.

“Alright! I just need to ride this momentum and get a good night’s sleep—gotta be ready for tomorrow’s first day!” She flopped back onto her bed with newfound determination.

…

Yeah, no. There was no way she could sleep.

Ugh, this energy is totally counterproductive.

Anon kicked her legs against the bed a few times, flailing in frustration. She had woken up in the middle of the night, should have been exhausted, and yet, her little pep talk had done nothing but rev her up even more.

And the more she tried to settle down, the further sleep drifted away.

“…Might as well just sit up for a bit.”

She left the main light off, instead switching on the small desk lamp by the floor-to-ceiling window. The warm glow spread out gently, like water flowing from a pitcher, filling the room with a soft but sufficient brightness.

When did I start hating the rain?

Anon settled into the chair at her desk, staring straight at the rain-soaked night beyond the glass. The downpour formed an impenetrable curtain, obscuring most of the scenery. Only a few scattered lights managed to push through, casting a faint, blurry glow.

…But, someone she knew had loved rainy days.

Back when she had first arrived in London, everything had felt fresh and exciting, making it easy to push aside any discomfort. She had eagerly explored countless cafés and tea shops, sampling a variety of drinks. Eventually, the enthusiasm carried her to the point where she even bought some tea leaves and basic brewing tools, deciding to try making tea herself.

Her first attempt had been a complete disaster. The tea lacked any fragrance—it was just bitter. One sip was all it took before she was grimacing, tongue sticking out in protest.

But from the outside? It had looked just fine. The color was about right, and it didn’t seem that different from the teas served at cafés. Feeling a bit vain, Anon snapped a carefully angled photo and posted it on social media, pretending her tea was a total success. Sure enough, most people praised the picture, impressed by her “skills.”

That smug satisfaction, however, didn’t last long.

A user named Rainy Lady had left a long comment under her post—an absolute takedown of her so-called tea.

Even its so-called “perfect” appearance was apparently a sham under closer inspection.

Crap. I’ve been called out by an expert.

Anon had felt utterly embarrassed the moment she saw that lengthy critique. Her first instinct was to just delete the post altogether.

But then… she actually read what Rainy Lady had written.

Mixed in with the blunt criticism were detailed brewing tips and advice. Curious despite herself, Anon had given it another shot, following the suggestions.

Though she was still clumsy, making plenty of mistakes, the result was already miles better than her first attempt. At the very least, this time, the tea actually had a proper aroma.

It didn’t take long for her to realize that in a city where tea culture was practically sacred, Rainy Lady’s knowledge might just help her fit in better. So she took the initiative to reach out, eventually adding each other on LINE. That was when she learned Rainy Lady was also Japanese.

Back in middle school, as student council president, Anon had always put up a front when her classmates asked how she was doing. She never wanted to break the perfect image they had of her, so she always forced a bright smile and said, “Of course, everything’s going great!”

And when it came to her family, she refused to let them worry about her at all. She couldn’t bring herself to tell them how hard it had actually been.

And so, as an anonymous presence on the internet, Rainy Lady naturally became the best person for Anon to confide in from time to time.

Thinking about Rainy Lady, Anon suddenly had the urge to make a cup of tea.

She grabbed her phone and tiptoed downstairs, carefully retrieving the black tea she had brought back from London. After setting a kettle on to boil, she prepared to brew the tea—only to freeze mid-action.

Crap. I forgot how to make it.

It had been too long since she last brewed tea. Back then, after she had finally convinced herself that her tea-making skills were decent enough, she had asked Rainy Lady to teach her how to make coffee instead. Of course, she had been thoroughly scolded for trying to move on when she hadn’t even mastered tea yet, but since she had only picked up tea brewing to blend in with the local culture anyway, she never really bothered to practice further.

In the end, Anon simply poured hot water over the leaves without much thought, not even giving them time to unfurl properly. Then, she carried the halfheartedly brewed tea back to her room.

She carefully brought the cup to her lips, barely brushing against the still-steaming liquid.

…Bitter.

As expected.

Anon let out a quiet, self-deprecating chuckle. But in the end, she still finished the tasteless, aroma-less tea.

She wanted to forget London—erase those memories altogether. But for some reason, that mysterious Rainy Lady lingered in her mind. The same Rainy Lady who had once, with such innocent curiosity, asked her if London’s rain really had that unique, romantic, British charm.

What kind of person was Rainy Lady?

Of course, usernames didn’t mean much, but Anon couldn’t help but imagine her as an elegant woman—someone who could gracefully prepare a fragrant pot of tea beneath the shelter of a dripping rooftop, watching the rain with quiet dignity.

She must be a truly captivating person.

Maybe… at this very moment, somewhere in Japan, Rainy Lady was also awake, watching the same rain fall from the night sky.

—

This is a fan translation of 乐队少女调饮行动 by 林明卿. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!