In the evening, after dinner, Lance came to the room on the third floor directly facing the manor's entrance and sat down. The housekeeper delivered the latest batch of coffee, costing over a thousand dollars per pound.
Lance had tried plenty of good coffee, but he always found it difficult to identify the origin or the harvest season of the coffee just by taking a sip.
He never understood those sommeliers and coffee tasters who could, with just a tiny sip, even call out the name of the farmer who grew the raw materials—is it real or fake?
He didn't know, maybe it's an open-book exam, but he didn't have the booklet, nor was it an exam, so he couldn't find the answer.
"...so what makes this thing taste so good?"
The housekeeper stood beside him, smiling as Lance took a sip. Then he slightly bowed, "Sir, its oils, its unique complex fragrance, and the roasting process won't make you feel excessively bitter or even slightly sour."
