Grand Return System-Chapter 69: A Jar of Wine, A Beating Heart

A Jar of Wine, A Beating Heart

"Whitelist Restaurant?" Harry Taylor stopped before the towering entrance, his footsteps unconsciously slowing.

The plaque above the door gleamed beneath the afternoon sun, its gold-lettered characters shimmering against dark sandalwood. The building rose three stories high, carved beams and painted rafters displaying wealth without restraint. Incense drifted faintly from within, blending with the aroma of roasted meat and aged wine.

This was one of the most prestigious restaurants in Ashford City.

The owner of this restaurant was a King Realm expert with five stars. Because of that alone, the place had long become neutral ground for the city’s powerful households. No one dared cause trouble here. Nobles, merchants, cultivators—everyone gathered under this roof.

Harry used to love coming here.

Whitelist Restaurant’s Pear Blossom Brew was famous throughout the Drake Empire. Sweet at first sip, mellow in the throat, and carrying a lingering warmth that settled deep in the spiritual core. Most patrons came specifically for that jar of wine.

"Young Master, do you want to take a seat inside?" Elder Black asked gently when he noticed Harry lingering at the entrance.

He had followed Harry for years and understood him well. In the past, Harry’s pleasures had been simple—beautiful women and fine wine.

Now... beautiful women were a forbidden thought.

Only wine remained.

"Mm... Let’s go drink." Harry hesitated for a moment, fanning himself casually as if nothing troubled him. Anyway, he refused to believe his luck was so terrible that he would run into Respected Leon at a mere drinking outing.

It’s a city of millions. I can’t be that unlucky... right?

As soon as he stepped inside, an errand boy hurried forward, bowing respectfully.

"Young Master, arrange the seats on the second floor," Harry said lightly, slipping back into his usual tone.

"Alright, Young Master Taylor, please go upstairs."

The familiarity soothed him a little. The polished wooden stairs creaked softly beneath his boots as he ascended with practiced confidence.

"Young Master Taylor, you haven’t been here for a long time. The private seats that were reserved for you have already been reserved," the errand boy explained carefully.

Harry’s brows knit together.

"Who is so bold to steal my seats?"

The old Harry would have exploded on the spot.

The new Harry merely frowned.

He strode upstairs anyway, heart thudding faintly. The familiar corridor greeted him—red curtains, lacquered railings, the scent of wine drifting through the air.

He stopped before his usual private seat.

Without hesitation, he lifted the curtain.

And froze.

Inside, three breathtaking figures sat around the low table, laughter ringing softly like wind chimes.

Silver-white hair cascading over porcelain shoulders. Crimson silk shimmering like living flame. Flowing purple-black robes draped with effortless elegance.

Selena.

Rias.

Akeno.

A flash of nothing crossed Harry’s thoughts.

His eyes tightened, shrinking fast.

A small jerk tugged at one side of his lips.

The curtain dropped, silent. He spun, almost crashing into Elder Black before either could react.

Out of nowhere, the delivery kid started talking -

Footsteps echoed as Harry raced downward, past the second landing.

Elder Black Blinked in Confusion

Hurry. The damn guy showed up again. Harry’s words slipped out tight, shaky, feet scrambling forward like they couldn’t stop.

Fingers of chill crept from his neck into the small of his back.

Fear washed over Elder Black’s features at those words, draining the color from his skin.

It clicked right away whose name he was talking about.

Off they went, silent, making a beeline to the door. Quietly leaving, both moved fast toward the way out. Not one phrase spoken, just steps pacing together. Straight ahead they walked, aiming for the exit without delay. Silence held them close as feet carried them away. Exit bound, neither broke the stillness between.

Just then -

A hush of words floated out, soft from above. The air carried it slow, low, coming through glass left ajar. Not loud, just there - steady, like breath after running. It settled without weight, hanging past the railing. Quiet strength shaped each sound, unhurried by time. Stillness followed where it passed.

"Isn’t this Young Master Taylor? Why are you running the moment you see me?"

Harry froze mid-step.

Everything around stopped making noise.

That’s it.

I’m finished.

Damn it.

What made today the day I ended up here?

What made me pick this place for dinner? That question keeps coming back.

Unlucky Feelings?

Outside after forever, then suddenly - they’re there.

His throat tightened, each strand of hair lifting like it had a mind of its own.

That voice.

Selena.

Harry wanted to cry.

He neither dared leave nor dared stay.

With great effort, he turned around slowly, forcing a smile that looked more painful than pleasant.

"Hehe, Fairy... long time no see. I didn’t expect you to be here either."

Selena leaned slightly against the window frame, her blue eyes calm, a faint playful curve touching her lips.

"Young Master Taylor is in such a hurry. Where are you going? You’re not avoiding us on purpose, are you?"

Her tone was gentle.

Which made it even worse.

"Don’t say that. Fairy, you’ve misunderstood." Harry wiped the sweat from his forehead discreetly. "I just suddenly remembered that I still have some matters to attend to at home and need to go back to settle them. Why would I hide from you? You’ve wronged me."

His voice trembled slightly despite his efforts.

Inside, his thoughts were spiraling.

Where is he?

Is Respected Leon here?

Is he watching?

Oh no... what if he’s hiding somewhere?

What if this is a test?

I’m still so young. I don’t want to die.

From inside the private room, another figure leaned toward the window.

Red silk caught the sunlight like liquid flame.

"Senior Sister, who is this?" Rias asked curiously, her large crimson eyes examining Harry with open interest.

Just now, he had barged toward their private seat. For a moment, she had thought Vita Zain had sent someone to cause trouble.

Selena nearly laughed at the sight of Harry’s stiff expression.

She briefly explained what had happened before—the "filial piety test," the overwhelming pressure from Respected Leon, the fear that had nearly broken the once-arrogant young master.

As Rias listened, her eyes widened slightly.

Then she covered her mouth and smiled.

She had heard about that encounter but hadn’t witnessed it herself.

To think their Teacher had such a sly side.

Poor Young Master Taylor.

Already traumatized... and still running at the mere sight of them.

Selena looked down at Harry again, her tone light.

"Young Master Taylor, since you’re not avoiding us, why don’t you come up and take a seat?"

Harry’s heart skipped.

"Uh... this isn’t appropriate, right?"

His eyes darted around the courtyard, scanning rooftops, windows, shadows.

He searched for a glimpse of midnight robes embroidered with amethyst.

Nothing.

Still...

He didn’t dare trust it.

Elder Black leaned slightly closer and murmured, "Young Master, I think we can go up and have a seat. She is Respected Leon’s student. If we can befriend her, we might be able to ease our relationship."

Harry’s eyes flickered.

That... actually makes sense.

Why didn’t I think of that?

If I can build goodwill through his students, maybe—

Maybe I won’t have nightmares every night anymore.

He cleared his throat and straightened his robe.

"Ahem... Since you don’t mind, I won’t stand on ceremony."

With a forced confident smile, Harry turned and walked back up the stairs.

Each step felt like walking toward a trial.

Fear churned in his chest.

But beneath it...

There was something else.

Envy.

They were Respected Leon’s students.

They stood behind a man who could shake the Drake Empire with a single sword.

And him?

He was still trembling over a memory.

As Harry reached the top of the stairs, sunlight filtered through the lattice windows, casting soft patterns over the floor.

Inside the private room, laughter rang again.

For a brief moment, he wondered—

What would it feel like to stand on that side?

To have such backing.

To not live in fear.

He exhaled slowly and lifted the curtain once more.

On the other side of the restaurant, several black-clothed men watched quietly from a shadowed corner.

One burly man narrowed his eyes.

"Quick, report to Young Master. These three people are related to Harry Taylor."

The tension in Whitelist Restaurant thickened—subtle, invisible.

Like storm clouds gathering over calm wine.