The four of them drank, one mouthful after another, for who knows how long.
Clara tilted the bottle in her hand, trying to pour the last drops into her mouth, "It's empty."
The strong alcohol hit them hard, and no one in the dormitory was sober anymore.
Lucy, who boasted about her alcohol tolerance, was actually a lightweight, the type who couldn't handle her liquor but loved to drink.
Her entire being felt groggy, her vision obscured by a layer of fog, making it difficult to see clearly.
She could barely hear Clara's voice. Propping herself up, she crawled out of bed and pulled out another box from underneath.
Opening it, four bottles of cocktails rested quietly inside.
She took them out and handed one to each of them.
Clara cradled the bottle like a treasure, taking small sips
