Drinking Contest (End)

"I'll drink the booze you procured. You drink the booze I procured. How about it?"

"Sure, that works. Master, you be the judge."

The brat accepted my terms without fuss.

Fool. The master here does as I say. He'll rule against her if she spills even a little, to tilt things in my favor.

And I naturally steered it so I'd drink weak liquor while the brat drank strong stuff. Well, I'd already been drinking anyway, so it balances out. If she doesn't notice, that's on her.

Heh heh heh — matches are decided before they even start!

"First round. Cheers."

"Sure."

I took a gulp… Huh, not bad. Good for women and kids. Too weak for me, though.

"Phaa — another, please."

"Same here. Another!"

The brat tilted her mug and kept drinking.

Nice drinking style. Figures, since she proposed a contest herself.

But you can't beat me.

That was decided from the moment you challenged me!

"Mmm, wine really does smell nice."

"Heh. The booze you brought is crap. Can't even get me drunk."

"… Hey, would you say that in front of a dwarf?"

"Huh? Why bring up those booze-addled freaks."

"I got that from a dwarven peddler."

… Dwarven stock, huh. No wonder it's good.

Surely it's not connected to that drunk ogre — nah, not with a brat like this.

Anyway, we kept drinking.

Ulp. Even weak booze will bloat your gut eventually.

And this brat is guzzling wine like it's water…!

"Another!"

"… Another."

It's about the time the booze dulls your palate — now. I signaled my men. The sleeping draught.

My undefeated secret in drinking contests: booze laced with a sleeping pill.

"Yey, cheers."

"Yeah yeah, cheers."

She raised her drink and chugged it in one go.

Without knowing that one was dosed…

"Phaa! … Huh? What. Hurry up and drink yours. C'mon."

"Heh, don't rush me."

In a few seconds the drug should kick in… I leisurely savored my victory sip.

"Okay, you drank it! Master, another!"

"… Huh?"

She calmly asked for a refill. Calm. Even though she should have drunk the drug.

Was there a mistake? Again.

"Phaa! Haa, maybe I'm getting a little tipsy? Just kidding!"

"Nng, glug… pfa. Hey, don't push yourself. How about admitting defeat?"

"That's my line. You're slowing down a bit. Drink up."

I knocked mine back.

Damn it, what's going on? Did the master betray me?

I glared, but he shook his head emphatically: never.

… Damn it. Again!!

 

*

 

This is impossible…

At some point she stopped waiting for me to finish and kept ordering refills — she's emptied a whole barrel!

Where in that body is she putting all that booze!? No way!

… Wait. It's a drinking contest, right?

Which means, even if she passes out now, for me to win, I still have to drink enough to empty the barrel too, right?

N-no! If she passes out I can make excuses — besides, we dosed her! Sleep already! Why won't you sleep!?

"Haa, I'm feeling a little flushed. Master, another!"

"… Mon… monster…!!"

As I tried to complain, my guts surged up. Crap…

"Oh? Oh? What's wrong, giving up already?"

"… blrghlblrgh…"

"Gross. Don't puke up perfectly good booze."

I clapped a hand over my mouth, but too late.

I misjudged my limit on this easy-drinking swill I'm not used to… No complaints. A clean loss.

With my consciousness fading, I heard the brat's victory declaration.

"Yaaay, my win! Master, put the tab on this guy like we agreed!"

"… Right."

"Hey you lot, let this be a lesson — don't mess with me. Anyone with complaints can settle it with a drinking contest!! Gahaha!!"

"Grh… ngh…"

"Y-you'll pay for this!"

My men carried me back to the inn.

And I had to parade around covered in vomit…

Damn it! Damn it! That brat — I'll make her pay for humiliating me…!