I'm a Master in India

"Hey, Ron, come over here. Let me introduce you to our friends, Dejan, Kavya, and Viraj."

"Hello, this round is on me today."

"Whoa ~!"

Leopold Bar, Ron's arrival immediately drew cheers.

Mary and Lena are about to try their luck in Bollywood, and their work with Ron has come to an end.

To celebrate their regained freedom—at least that's what they called it—the two invited a bunch of friends for drinks.

Dejan is probably in his early thirties and hails from France. His dark, thick curly hair, coupled with a melancholic expression, gives him an artistic air.

"Mate, we were just talking about you." He proactively clinked glasses with Ron.

"Talking about what?"

"Lena says you don't like to drink, like an ascetic. Come on, mate, we'll cure you right away!"

He mimicked Lena's tone and shouted, "Number Four! Get me a bottle of beer! What do you want to drink, mate? Milk tea? Oh! Number Four! A whiskey!"

"Hey, that's a foul!" Kavya laughed. She's from Tamil Nadu, in her twenties, and just returned from Los Angeles after graduating from university.

She's beautiful, with honey-colored eyes, full and well-proportioned lips, slender and expressive fingers, intelligent, confident, and daring.

"Dejan, you don't understand, milk tea is the soul of Indians! Yaar, I have the most say in this!" Viraj chimed in from the side.

He's of mixed Indian descent, with an average build and height. But his face is quite handsome, and his bright hazel eyes exude confidence. Especially the small mustache on his lip, with the ends curving downwards along the corners of his mouth, trimmed very neatly.

"Please, he's that popular? It's no wonder Kavya is smitten with his handsome face, Viraj, don't tell me you have ideas too?" Dejan protested loudly.

This naturally drew a unanimous condemnation from the two, and everyone laughed and joked together.

"Actually, it's not that I don't like to drink, it's just that my alcohol tolerance is too poor, and I easily do foolish things," Ron explained with a smile.

"That's right, I can vouch for that!" Lena giggled.

"Damn it! I can smell the stench of love again!" Dejan exaggeratedly clutched his head and wailed.

"Let's talk about you, mate," Viraj looked at Ron. "Mary said you started a company? That's freaking awesome!"

"I heard about it too," Dejan interjected. "There's a rumor going around on the street that there's a guy who's rounded up a bunch of local guides, specializing in business with foreigners. Is that you? Mate, they also say you've gotten involved with people in the underworld?"

"I just earn a little commission, just like most people. Of course, in terms of foreign exchange rates, I can give some good prices that others can't get."

Ron spoke very modestly, he didn't deliberately exaggerate his business. There were many people in the bar, and it was never a bad thing to keep a low profile.

"That's enough to boast about for a while, how old are you? You look younger than Kavya. When I was your age, I was busy learning Bollywood dance to show off," Viraj flicked his beloved cowboy hat.

"That's right, come on, cheers!" Dejan was always able to grasp the subtle points of the atmosphere and then make everyone willingly drink the wine in their hands.

"I heard you're going to the slums tomorrow?" Mary, who hadn't said much, turned her gaze to Ron.

"Yes, Anand invited me. You know him," Ron shrugged.

"That tour guide who always loves to smile?" Dejan interjected, having spent several years in Mumbai, he was already a thorough Indian.

"That's him, we're working together well."

"It's too smelly there, I really don't know how you can stand it. I wouldn't go to that kind of place even if I died," Lena made no secret of her disgust for the slums.

"I'd like to go and see, I'm very curious," Mary casually said, startling the entire table into silence.

"Oh my god! Mary, why would you have such an idea? It's too dangerous there!" Lena immediately objected.

"It's just a slum, it's not a red-light district, it's not as scary as you think," Mary turned to look at Ron. "So, would you mind taking me along?"

"Are you sure?" Ron was also a little surprised. "Although there's no danger, it's really not that clean there."

"Listen to Ron, Mary. There's nothing worth being curious about there. If you want to hear about it, just let Ron share his experiences when he gets back," Kavya also kindly advised.

Although she came from Tamil Nadu, a place where the caste system wasn't so outrageous, the slums were still not within her consideration.

"Hey, Kavya. If you want to become a journalist, this won't do. You have to go deep into the grassroots, that's where you'll find the most authentic side of Mumbai," Dejan egged on from the side, knowing that Kavya's goal was to become a journalist.

"Of course I'll go to the slums, it's no big deal, I'm just worried about Mary."

"Ah ha, our Kavya is brave and strong!"

"Alright, stop arguing. No one can hurt me, have you forgotten? I've taught a few Indian strongmen a lesson."

"That's true," Viraj agreed, and the others no longer objected.

"What happened?" Ron looked at Mary curiously.

"Just a few petty thieves," Mary waved her hand dismissively.

"Alright, Viraj, let's talk about you. You just got back from traveling in Denmark, how was it there?" Dejan timely changed the subject.

"Denmark is very trendy, very cool. The people there are very cultured, they are so damn self-controlled, I can't believe it.

In Copenhagen, I went to a sauna, that damn place was huge, co-ed. Yes, everyone was walking around naked together, completely and utterly naked.

But no one reacted, and no one peeked. Indian men can't do that, they would boil over, I bet!"

"Did you boil over, mate?" Kavya looked at him amused.

"Just kidding! I was the only man there wearing a towel, and also the only man who reacted!" Viraj said with a face full of pride.

"Let's raise a glass to Viraj being a normal Indian man!" Dejan raised his glass again.

After downing a glass of wine, Viraj continued to talk eloquently.

"I went there every day, for three weeks. I thought that as long as I spent enough time there, I would get used to it, just like those super cool Danes."

"What was the result?" Ron asked the question that everyone was concerned about.

"Invalid, no use. After three weeks, I still had to wear a towel. No matter how much I pretended not to see, it would pop up when I got there. What can I say? Am I too Indian, not suitable for that place?"

Everyone burst into laughter, perhaps because of his mixed-race background, Viraj had a liveliness that Indian people didn't have.

"Ron, if you have anything to do in the slums, mention my name. I've been to that damn place a few times," he patted his chest enthusiastically after drinking a few glasses of wine.

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," Ron agreed with a smile.