Chapter 19
Tony:
“Metal, you say?”
Dragon President:
“Yeah. I don’t know what it was. It was too *Onmitsu* (Stealthy) and deeply embedded. All I could do was catch a fleeting glimpse. And even that vanished immediately, without a trace.”
Tony:
“...Not just anyone, but you, Boss, completely missed it. You don’t know what it was, and it was metal. Isn’t that dangerous?”
Dragon President:
“It could be dangerous. Or it might not be. That’s why you need to find out. Whether it’s dangerous or not.”
Tony:
“Huh? Me?”
Dragon President:
“Then should I do it? That’s your specialty, isn’t it? Investigating people, digging up dirt, all that.”
Tony:
“Oh, come on, I told you I’m out of that game. Can’t we just kick him out? Why hire someone with such a risk factor as an employee?”
Dragon President:
“*Dame* (No).”
Tony:
“Why?”
Dragon President:
“I liked him, Aaron Nakamura. He’s my type. I’ll have to see him work to know for sure, but my *Yokan* (Premonition) tells me he’ll be good at his job. And the dangerous aura he gives off has its own charm. You know I’m not satisfied until I make something I like mine, right?”
Tony:
“Isn’t that just a perversion? Are you a Pervert? A *hentai*?”
Dragon President:
“Shut up and just do what I told you. That’s what I pay you for. It’s a Personnel Order straight from the Chairman, so it’s *Aimai* (Ambiguous) to just fire him. It’s always best to keep dangerous things close and watch them. Got it?”
Tony:
“Yes, sir, understood.”
* * *
The position I received from the Dragon Manager was “Temporary Field Manager” (On-site Manager) of the Bar.
Befitting the fancy title of Manager, I was given an automatically tailored Mechanical Suit Uniform that fit me perfectly the moment I put it on, and even a hastily made name tag to pin on my chest.
However, it was only a Manager in name... in reality, I was an Odd-jobber. Since I said I could do anything, it seemed they intended to make me do *everything*.
Of course, since my knowledge of alcohol was still insufficient, Inventory Management and Cocktail Mixing Assistant duties would be difficult. Instead, it was agreed that for a while, I would handle only miscellaneous tasks such as Customer Service, Hall Table Serving, Cleaning, and Washing Dishes, to get a feel for the job.
They repeatedly emphasized that Customer Service and management were particularly important, telling me to be friendly but firm when it came to the Bar Regulations and manual.
The regulations themselves were nothing special.
There were dozens of items listed, but they mostly boiled down to...
1. Weapon Prohibition: No swords, firearms, or other weapons inside the Bar. If brought, they must be entrusted to the Manager.
2. No fistfights: Unless it’s a pre-arranged Sumo Wrestling Match, no fistfights are tolerated for any reason.
3. No Smoking: No smoking indoors. The same applies to drugs, including electronic drugs.
4. Minors allowed: Minors are permitted, but only Mocktails (non-alcoholic cocktails) are to be served to them.
5. Restroom use: All bodily functions must occur in the Restroom. The same applies to vomiting. Do not spit on the Floor rudely.
6. Thievery prohibited: Keep a close eye out for anyone trying to make off with dartboards, ping-pong tables, arcade game machines, or the Jukebox.
7. No sex: Sexual skinship is only permitted up to holding hands.
8. Prohibition of discrimination and discriminatory remarks against other species.
These were roughly the important points. Most of them were common sense.
I wondered if even the most eccentric Customers wouldn't abide by these.
In fact, by Cyberpunk standards, these were excessively wholesome regulations. Leaving everything else aside, I doubted the rules about drugs and tobacco would be properly followed.
This neighborhood was filled with people who thought Bars and pubs were places to smoke and do drugs.
But still, if they didn't comply, I could just kick them out.
The last regulation stated as much.
Ambiguous situations not covered by regulations and manuals were left to the discretion of the Employees, and if a Customer violated the rules, they could be immediately expelled.
Of course, if I kicked out every Customer just because I could, I'd be kicked out of the establishment myself. But still, having this much discretion as an Employee was something.
No matter how I thought about it, it didn't seem like it would be hard or arduous.
I had plenty of experience with Customer Service from my time at the Restaurant. At least these Customers would be easier to deal with than the finicky Magnates, Nobles, and Zaibatsu from the Upper Levels.
Cleaning and Washing Dishes were familiar, and for Serving, I only had to handle the Hall Tables outside, not the Front Tables directly served by the Bartenders.
I also had some experience as a Waiter part-timer before, so recalling those memories, it didn't seem too difficult.
I kept thinking I was too much of an All-rounder Talent.
To the point where I wondered if I should be taking on such an easy job. Wasn't this a kind of Wasted Talent?
Since there wasn't much to do, it felt like I'd be coasting. Today was just the first day, a light trial run, and the difficulty would certainly increase once Alcohol Study and management officially began.
For these reasons, I was more concerned about my relationships with my fellow Employees than with Customer Service.
There was Tony, the man with the languid expression and Dark Circles under his eyes, but there was also another Bartender.
It was her, the woman I had already seen.
A woman with a peculiar aura, someone I felt I had definitely encountered somewhere before. Sey.
I had somewhat expected it, but she was indeed the other Bartender here.
She, Tony, the Dragon Manager, and I, making a total of four people working together at the Bar.
It was 7:03 PM, past the Opening Hours.
Exactly at 7:00, retro synthwave electronic music began to flow from the previously silent Jukebox, signaling the start of the Bar's business.
Next to me, the Otaku Dragon was chattering away excitedly.
[Ah, come to think of it, you two haven't introduced yourselves yet, have you? I'll give you a *Shoukai* (Introduction). Nakamura-kun? This is Sey. She's our Head Bartender. Diligent, good at her job, pretty... in many ways, she's an Excellent Employee responsible for our sales. I wish Tony were even half as good as Sey.]
“Hey, why did my name suddenly pop up there?”
Ignoring Tony's grumbling, the Dragon President continued with my introduction.
[And Sey, this is Aaron Nakamura. He's temporarily joined us as an Employee. Teach him a lot. Oh, and he said you can just call him Nakamura. He finds it more comfortable that way... Ah, there's that sour expression again. Hahaha!]
He was really enjoying this.
Sey's reaction was simple.
She replied, “I see,” and exchanged a brief greeting with me. And that was it.
Soon after, Sasha Dragon left, telling us to call her if anything big happened, and retreated to her Boss Room, leaving only the three of us in the Bar.
“...”
A suffocating silence fell.
They say you don't know what you've got “til it”s gone, and with the Dragon President, who never stopped talking, now gone, his absence felt huge.
With the person who served as the lubricant for conversation gone, it became this awkward.
I looked around, wondering if I should say something, but decided against it.
At a glance, Sey didn't seem to be one for small talk, and the only one I could comfortably converse with was Tony... but for some reason, he seemed lost in thought.
For some reason, I felt like he was staring at the back of my head. Must be my imagination.
It felt subtly unsettling, but I just brushed it off and stood there awkwardly.
Fortunately, the awkward silence didn't last long.
Because soon after, Customers began to arrive.
* * *
Contrary to the Dragon President's warning about all sorts of Troublemakers, no one fitting that description had appeared yet.
Currently, there were three Customers in the Bar. Considering it had been less than thirty minutes since Opening Hours, it wasn't a bad number.
Two of them were a duo: a grumpy-looking old man and a tall young man who looked like his son or Grandson.
They sat in front of Tony, ordered cocktails, and began discussing Political Talk while watching the Holographic News Channel on the wall.
The old man mostly ranted passionately about Dusk City's politics, while the young man listened quietly, interjecting with affirmations or occasionally offering his own opinions.
It seemed that with the Dusk City Mayoral Election approaching, such topics were bound to be hot.
I knew nothing about this city's politics, had no interest, and no time to study it, so I had nothing to say. But Tony seemed to interject into their conversation from time to time.
Engaging in diverse conversations with Customers was indeed the mark of a Professional Bartender.
The other Customer was a tough-looking man.
He had a deeply furrowed brow and the image of a Thug with many Body Modifications, so I was cautious in approaching him. Surprisingly, he hadn't brought any weapons.
Though it was possible he had hidden them out of sight.
Anyway, that man exuded an aura that seemed to say, “Don”t bother me,’ and sat alone at a distant corner table, chewing on his solitude.
He ordered a large beer instead of a cocktail and kept sipping it slowly.
From my perspective, he was an easy Customer, I suppose. I didn't have to pay much attention to him.
The fact that he chose a corner Hall Table despite many other empty seats was a silent signal that he wanted his alone time, so there seemed no need to approach him or engage in conversation.
However, the comfortable and pleasant time didn't last long.
One person appeared.
And the moment our eyes met, I knew what was coming.
A man exuding an unsettling aura, as if he had 'I'm a troublemaker' written on his forehead.
He entered the Bar with a resounding clang of a bell and immediately introduced himself as “Detective Sherlock Holmes”.
...Isn't that plagiarism?
More importantly, do Great Detectives usually introduce themselves as “Great Detectives”?
His appearance was quite different from the Detective I knew.
In short, he was a self-proclaimed Sherlock Holmes whose appearance would make any Sherlockian recoil in horror.
A rather plump physique, a receding hairline. A luxuriant mustache, perhaps as compensation for all the hair lost from his head.
A checkered suit jacket that looked ready to burst, and a Cloak Coat that was too small, tight, and ill-fitting.
Just by looking at his protruding belly, I could tell this person didn't particularly enjoy Exercise.
In an era where most citizens undergo Nutrition Control Modification, making obese patients almost nonexistent, his soft belly was a rare sight.
By no means did he possess the sharp features or the agile detective's demeanor skilled in various martial arts.
The only trace of a Great Detective I could find...
Perhaps the translucent Monocle he wore over one eye.
With blinking Electronically Attached Devices plastered all over it, if it were just square, I would've thought it was a Scouter from Dragon Ball.
It seemed to be a type of Outdated Cyberware that combined fashion and practical functions, much like my Watch.
But come to think of it, that wasn't particularly Sherlock Holmes' style either. Maybe Lupin, but not Holmes. Isn't that a Thief, not a detective?
Thinking along those lines, and following the Weapon Prohibition regulations, I received an old revolver, so rusty I wondered if it would even Fire, which was dangling from this Sherlock fellow's thick thigh.
As I was about to show him to a seat, someone called me from behind. It was a woman's voice.
I turned to see Sey, the Bartender with dark blue hair and gray eyes, her lips parting as she spoke.
“You need to check that person more thoroughly. Inside his coat too.”
Her familiar tone of advice suggested that he wasn't a first-time visitor today, but had been here before.
Indeed, with such a unique character, even I wouldn't fail to recognize him.
He seemed to be a Person of Interest regarding the Weapon Possession Regulations.
Upon hearing that, I immediately asked him to show me the inside of his coat, and with a sigh, he pulled out a whole array of weapons from within. Each item was extraordinary. A dagger with Pseudo-Monofilament Cutting Technology, an Electromagnetic Pulse Grenade, a Small Electronic Submachine Gun, Auto-tracking Shuriken...
Based on my memories from the game, I could identify these, and beyond that, all sorts of dangerous, glowing metal objects of unknown origin tumbled out.
Each one was a High-tech weapon that I was afraid to touch carelessly.
That rusty old revolver, it turned out, was just for show. The real arsenal was all inside his coat.
In my opinion, many of these items weren't just problematic for our Bar Regulations, but also seemed to violate the Urban Civilian Weapon Possession Regulations.
As I stared with a bewildered expression, he patted my shoulder familiarly, as if we were old friends, and spoke.
“A capable detective always has many enemies. These were merely the minimum Self-defense mechanisms to protect myself. I trust you'll be understanding, Watson. Hahahaha. Well then, shall we enjoy a drink at the Dragon's Lair today? Show me to my seat! That table over there looks perfect.”
It seemed he wasn't just an ordinary Troublemaker, but a crazy one. A dangerously crazy one at that.