Chapter 921
“If you can’t handle it, just stop,” Calliope said, her eyes flicking over to Blythe’s face, which was already twisting with discomfort. “I won’t hold it against you if you want to surrender p>
“It’s way too early for that! I’m perfectly fine—and honestly, I’m having a great time!” Blythe insisted, trying to sound cheerful. But the truth was, after so much drinking, a wave of nausea and heaviness had begun to creep in. Still, something about Calliope’s blasé encouragement rubbed her the wrong way.
Gritting her teeth, Blythe refilled her glass and kept going, downing one after another.
Calliope, meanwhile, maintained effortless composure the entire time. Blythe, on the other hand, was clearly beginning to struggle; pain flickered more and more openly across her face.
“Blythe’s not going to last much longer. She can’t keep up,” Jett commented, noticing the red flush deepening on Blythe’s cheeks. It was obvious she had hit her limit—keeping pace with Calliope was impossible.
In stark contrast, Calliope looked serene, sipping the high-proof liquor as if it was nothing more than water or club soda. The whole crowd stood transfixed, mouths agape in disbelief.
“Calliope’s unreal! She drinks like a champ!” someone in the crowd exclaimed.
“I know, right? Where does it all go?” another chimed in.
“I’m starting to think she has a hollow leg!” someone else joked.
Whispers and astonished commentary rippled through the onlookers. Everyone was impressed: Calliope had emptied most of the bottles, and yet she didn’t even have a flush; she remained as sharp and composed as if she were drinking water.
One curious skeptic even took a sip from Calliope’s glass, just to make sure she wasn’t cheating. The burn that hit his throat was enough proof: it was legitimate, strong liquor.
Meanwhile, Blythe was already showing signs of drunkenness. She’d started out composed and confident, but with every round, it became clearer-she was hopelessly outmatched. Her previous certainty that she could outdrink Calliope crumbled; she wasn’t even in the same league.
But she’d made a pact with Lisette-she had to drink Calliope under the table, and slip something into her drink. She’d promised.
With a sharp inhale, Blythe narrowed her eyes and steeled herself, draining her glass even as her gaze stayed glued to Calliope. The calmer Calliope appeared, the more panic clawed at Blythe’s insides.
Why isn’t she even the slightest bit drunk? Shouldn’t she be feeling this by now? Is she even human?
Blythe was losing her nerve, staring at Calliope in utter disbelief. She was supposed to be unbeatable at the bar people had jokingly called her the woman who never got drunk Her parents prided themselves on their endurance and had raised her to match, but none of that seemed to matter now.
“What’s the matter-giving up already?” Calliope asked with a gentle, mocking arch of her brow, swirling her drink in the glass with practiced grace. She drank as if she were savoring a rare, vintage wine rather than participating in a drinking challenge-a calm delight that only underscored Blythe’s growing misery.
“She’s done for,” someone murmured.
“Calliope looks like she’s on vacation, as if she’s sipping some rare delicacy,” another said.
“You can see it in Blythe’s face, she knows she’s beaten. She’s no match for Calliope,” a voice added from the crowd.
“Calliope doesn’t look fazed at all. She could drink the whole place dry and still walk out of here,” another marveled.
“I’ve honestly never seen anyone with this kind of stamina. It’s a miracle,” someone else declared.
“And you can’t say she’s not drinking, either—there’s no trick. We checked the bottle, and it’s the real deal. She hasn’t spilled a drop p>