Chapter 11
Creak—.
The door marked “No Entry for Unauthorized Personnel” opened again. It seemed to be the Staff Lounge.
Soon, a familiar face appeared.
“Tony, The Boss said someone was supposed to come here. Has anyone arrived yet—”
She, who had been speaking with half her body leaning out, suddenly met my eyes as I stood there blankly. Again.
That woman, with dark bluish-black hair and mysterious gray eyes, was Seira. Her attire, however, was different from when I'd encountered her just moments ago.
A pristine white shirt, a dark-colored suit vest over it, and a skirt. Stockings, heels, and even a reddish tie. It was the typical Bartender's uniform.
Her long hair was tied back in a ponytail. Her appearance was so different from when I'd seen her on the street that I was momentarily speechless.
She certainly had an appearance that drew people's eyes. To put it more bluntly, she was insanely beautiful. And while she was beautiful, there was also an inexplicable sense of déjà vu. I felt like I'd met this woman before, though I couldn't quite remember when.
That's why I kept staring. It wasn't like I was some woman-crazed pervert, staring just because she was pretty. I wasn't that starved for female attention yet.
Still, it was strange. If I'd met someone so striking, I should definitely remember it.
...Well, it wasn't a particularly important issue in this situation.
I couldn't be rude again. As I struggled to avert my gaze, trying not to stare intently, she mumbled.
“The person the Boss mentioned must be that masked man by the vending machine.” “What? Who—Oh, you're right. He's really here. Is he the person the Boss called for? Do you know him?”
Only then did the man inside the table area snap out of it, belatedly noticing me and showing a surprised expression. Though 'surprised' meant his half-closed eyes widened just a tiny bit.
It seemed he genuinely hadn't noticed me standing there until now. I wasn't sure if that was impressive in its own way.
Seeing his spaced-out demeanor, the woman, Seira, sighed and waved her hand.
“No, I don't know him. Never mind. You just keep doing what you were doing. I'll take this person to the Boss.”
She said that and walked past me. Just a brief brush left a sweet, grape-like scent in the air. After walking a few steps ahead, she eventually turned her head and spoke.
“What are you doing? Aren't you coming?”
“Ah, yes.”
At her words, I snapped out of it and hurriedly followed her. Good heavens, I'd been standing there blankly the whole time.
I didn't have to go far. After walking a short distance down a corridor connected to the hall, I found a steel door in a secluded corner. A bright red neon sign ominously glowed in the center, reading <F1>“Boss Room”</F1>.
“Here. Just knock and go in. Good luck.”
Good luck. Why would she say something like that? But I didn't get a chance to ask what she meant. She said it in an emotionless voice, then turned and left without giving me a moment to react.
She continued walking, her heels clicking, then stopped. Her gray eyes turned back, meeting mine again. It was a situation I was almost used to by now.
Just like last time, she offered a piece of advice.
“Oh, and one more thing. Don't be too surprised when you see the Boss's face. Even if he looks scary, he's a good person.”
That was it.
I was left stranded in front of the Boss Room. How cold-hearted.
The woman had left me with more cryptic words. It would be nice if she just told me everything clearly.
Don't be too surprised? Looks scary? What on earth does he look like to warrant such warnings? I hadn't thought much of it before, but hearing that suddenly made me anxious.
“Phew, let's go.”
In any case, I couldn't delay any longer. After a deep breath, I knocked on the Boss Room door. After a short wait, a voice came from inside.
You can come in.
A heavy, mechanical voice was heard. Swallowing hard, as if a real final boss awaited me, I opened the door.
The room was pink inside.
* * *
Pink neon light. Digital wallpaper filled with anime-style girls covered every wall. Virtual frames of suggestive manga characters with Japanese signs were plastered everywhere, practically wallpapering the room.
On the electronic bookshelf were holographic manga, light novels, fantasy, romance, and other various subculture books, along with plastic figures of all shapes and sizes.
If someone asked me to describe this room in one word, I could answer without hesitation: an Otaku Room.
After falling into Dusk City, I'd been too busy trying to survive, and the cultural gap with my original era was so vast that I hadn't paid much attention to such things.
But in my original world, I also enjoyed anime and manga, so this scene evoked a sense of familiarity.
Of course, I wasn't a hardcore otaku who'd decorate my room like this. It was just a casual hobby.
In any case, it was a familiar room. The problem was that the room's owner didn't look very familiar at all.
In the center of the pink and lovely room, a figure sat at a large table.
The figure's appearance was... a Dragon?
It was no joke. His head was a fiery red dragon's, covered in scales, with horns, light emanating from reptilian pupils, and a protruding snout and teeth.
It was a Dragon Helmet.
A helmet. Yes, it wasn't real. On closer inspection, it was a Mecha Dragon Helmet, intricately crafted from red titanium and carbon nanotubes, astonishingly resembling a dragon's head. The glittering eyes were also made of LEDs.
I instinctively patted my startled chest.
*Of course, I thought. No matter how insane this world was, or how advanced genetic engineering had become, there was no way someone would completely transform their head into a fantasy reptile's.*
No, but why was he wearing something like that in the first place? Was that why it was called the Dragon's Lair? Was it because the Manager was a crazy person who wore a Dragon Helmet?
Now I understood why Seira had given me that warning. It was certainly a surprising sight. And a little scary. Though it was less a physiological fear and more a fear of just how crazy this person might be.
Koko, you can sit (here).
As I stood there bewildered, the Dragon head opened its mouth wide and spoke. Then it stood up and pointed to the chair in front of it...
For a moment, I felt a sense of déjà vu, as if a DCPD Patrol Officer had reappeared before me. Beneath the bizarre helmet, he wore a power suit that, while sleeker than the Patrol Officer's exoskeleton, was just as large, thick, and menacing.
What I mean is, he was also someone you absolutely shouldn't mess with.
The angular form of the suit, layered with silver and red chrome and emitting a faint glow, was like...
“Iron Man?”
The figure inside the suit reacted to my unintentional utterance.
Oh, looks like you've watched some old movies or manga. You're not wrong. They say the design drew some inspiration from that classic character.
*That's... clothes?*
*To describe that striking power armor as simply 'clothes' was an understatement. He was certainly no ordinary human.*
He wasn't just extraordinary; his personality was so overwhelming it was confusing.
From the Rooster Comb Yakuza to the City Police, the Deadcell Gang, and even a vending machine prostitute, I'd encountered all sorts of bizarre characters in one day, but in terms of sheer uniqueness, this Dragon otaku was the most impressive.
A pink Otaku Room, a Mecha Dragon Helmet, Iron Man armor... *it was hard to believe all these characteristics belonged to one person.*
They didn't even match each other. Looking at the Dragon head, I'd think he was a Western monster or fantasy enthusiast, but then seeing the room plastered with anime characters, I'd think he was a Japanese culture enthusiast. And then, seeing the gleaming power suit, I felt an intense aura and pressure that was hard to believe came from a mere otaku.
What kind of person is this?
Oh, I suppose introductions are overdue. My name is Sasha Dragon. I'm the Owner, Manager, and President of this bar. You can call me Sasha, or just Boss. All my employees do. Ah, it's alright if I speak informally like this, right? “Ah... yes, yes.”
His name was unusual too. Sasha? It felt quite gender-neutral. Come to think of it, didn't they say men were also called Sasha as a nickname in Eastern European countries like Russia or Ukraine? Perhaps he was a similar case.
And his surname was Dragon. Was that why he wore a Dragon Helmet, and the bar was called Dragon's Lair? Was it because a President named Dragon ran the place?
Now that I thought about it, there were Japanese-like graffiti and cute Dragon drawings all over the suit. It was that small red Dragon mascot from the bar's sign. It must have been a character modeled after the President himself.
[And your name is... if I recall correctly, Aaron Nakamura?]
“Yes. You can call me Aaron.”
[Right, Aaron. Your surname is Japanese, fitting for someone from headquarters. Oh, and your eyes have an East Asian look. Did you have surgery?]
“Ah, no. That's not it.”
[Then are you mixed-race? Doesn't really matter to me. More importantly, why don't you take off your mask? Let's talk face-to-face.]
Talk face-to-face, you say, Mr. President, but you're still wearing that red Dragon Helmet yourself. The words rose to my throat, but I wasn't so tactless as to actually say them. It was obvious he loved that Dragon Helmet to a suspicious degree and would never take it off.
More importantly, this might be my direct superior soon. I need to make a good impression.
Obediently, I took off my mask and put it away.
There seemed no need to worry about fine dust here. I'd noticed earlier that the air purification system was quite decent.
In many ways, it wasn't like a bar in a back alley at all.
[Oh, it's real. You wouldn't get this natural look with surgery unless you spent a fortune. Doesn't look Mixed-race... Pure, perhaps?]
“Ah, yes.”
[Japanese descent, naturally. Your slightly awkward speech suggests you haven't been in the city long. For a Pure Asian to migrate all the way to Dusk City and work as a *sararīman* (salaryman), you must have some circumstances, no?]
“...”
Honestly, I was a little surprised. Such sharp insight was hard to believe coming from someone wearing a bizarre Dragon Helmet and whose room was entirely pink.
The Chairman hadn't ordered me to report on the staff here, especially the Manager, for no reason.
That otaku Dragon was certainly no ordinary human. He'd figured out more about me than any officer or Patrol Officer I'd encountered during a Stop-and-Frisk, just by looking at my face and talking for a bit, though he hadn't figured out the most crucial, core secret.
Still, this was quite an awkward situation. What should I say? I was sweating, racking my brain for an answer.
Ah, of course, there's no need to talk about such personal circumstances. My apologies, I got sidetracked. I'm just very curious... But let's talk about what's important first.
Was he perhaps being considerate of me, seeing my discomfort from his questions?
Sasha Dragon sat back down in his chair and changed the subject.
Honestly, this personnel matter was surprising for me too. I was practically notified by headquarters, with no real consultation.
I felt a strange sense of camaraderie. So I wasn't the only one who got screwed over. “Same here,” I wanted to say. “One day I just showed up for work and was told to move positions.”
Even when I asked the Chairman, he just said you'd do whatever you were told, so I was to give you any tasks if we were short-staffed, but there were no specific explanations. And it's not like our bar is particularly short-staffed right now. So about that.
He leaned back deeply into the chair's backrest, which had a cushion with a rather embarrassing black-and-white manga character on it, and asked; it was quite a serious, work-related discussion.
As President and Manager, I have to ask this. Aaron, what can you do? What kind of work can you handle at our bar?
*What can I do...?*
That's not an easy question.