The human thug, finally let go of Zero's horn, but he didn't move away. He leaned in close, his foul, smoky breath washing over Zero's face. "Now," he said, his voice a low, conversational threat, "how does a little demon like you end up being the boss of a place this nice?"
Zero slowly pushed himself up, the side of his face throbbing where it had met the counter. He didn't wipe away the trickle of blood from his lip. He met the man's gaze, his own eyes cold and steady. "What's the matter?" he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. "Never seen horns in a place that wasn't a gutter?"
Both the human and the elf, burst into loud, ugly laughter. "Hah! He's a funny one, this Taintedfuck," The elf commented from the doorway, polishing his pistol with a silk handkerchief.
"You don't say," the human chuckled, his good humor vanishing as quickly as it appeared. He leaned in again, his smile gone. "You see, this alley... this whole block... it's our territory. We take care of it. And when we see a new spot open up, making a big splash, drawing crowds like crazy... well, we gotta come do a routine check."
His gaze then shifted, dismissing Zero completely as he turned his head toward the kitchen. "You're the Master Chef, huh?" he called out to Soma. "The talk of the town." He gestured with his head back toward Zero, a look of utter contempt on his face. "What do you say? You come work for our boss. A real boss, in a proper establishment with real money. It's much better than wasting your talent working for... this. No self-respecting human wants to work with a demon."
Soma's hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists at his sides. The heavy cleaver on the prep block seemed to call to him, a silent promise of swift, brutal justice. He gritted his teeth, the competitive rage he felt at the festival now twisting into a far darker, more protective fury. "No thanks," he said, his voice tight and low. "I'll stick with this café."
The human thug shrugged, turning back to Zero. He let go of Zero's hair and, with a casual, almost lazy motion, lightly slapped his cheek. It wasn't hard, but it was a profound insult. "Your choice," he said to Soma, but his eyes were locked on Zero. "Then I guess we'll just have to settle for your monthly security donation." He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Don't worry, I'm a generous man. I'll give you a week to get it together." He looked over at his partner. "Hmmmm... how much would this café's donation be, Eroan?"
The elf finished polishing his gun and gave a light, mocking laugh. "Given the lines out the door? About 3000 Sol should be enough, right, Orimys?"
"Yeahhh, 3000 it is," Orimys confirmed with a greedy smile. He pushed himself away from the bar and swaggered toward the door, where Eroan held it open for him. The bell chimed softly, a sickeningly cheerful sound in the tense silence. Orimys stopped at the threshold and turned his head, his final words delivered with a chilling nonchalance.
"And don't even bother calling the Watchers," he said. "They're in our pockets, after all."
Then they both laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed down the alley as they walked away, leaving Zero and Soma alone in the sudden, violated quiet of their café.
The moment the door clicked shut, the fragile composure Soma had maintained shattered. He rushed over to Zero, his eyes scanning the angry red bruise already forming on the side of his face where it had been slammed into the bar.
"Are you alright?" Soma asked, his voice tight with a fury that was all the more potent for being suppressed.
Zero touched his cheek gingerly, then took a slow, steadying breath. "I'm good," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "This Archdemon body is more resilient than I thought." The physical pain was already fading, but a deeper, colder ache remained.
"You should sit down," Soma insisted. "Let me clean up the jar."
"No need," Zero said, pushing himself away from the counter. His movements were stiff, deliberate. "I need to do something. To... process what just happened."
Soma just nodded, understanding completely. Zero needed to reclaim his space, to physically erase the violation that had just occurred. He watched as Zero found a broom and dustpan and began to meticulously sweep up the shards of the broken glass jar. The sound of the bristles scraping against the wood floor was the only sound in the café. Zero carefully gathered every last splinter, his focus absolute, as if restoring order to this small patch of floor could restore order to their lives.
After he disposed of the glass, he wiped the counter clean of the dark, fragrant coffee beans. He found a new, identical jar from their magically replenishing stock and filled it, placing it exactly where the old one had been. "Thank god this café has unlimited ingredients," he muttered to himself, the small absurdity a brief anchor in the swirling mess of his thoughts.
Just as he finished, the bell above the door chimed again.
Ding.
Zero flinched, his body tensing instinctively. He saw Soma's hand dart toward the kitchen cleaver. But the figure who stepped inside was not one of the thugs. It was the Captain.
The white tiger beastman took one look at the tense atmosphere and the faint, but undeniable, red bruise blooming on Zero's cheekbone. His golden eyes narrowed.
"What happened?" he rumbled, his voice low and dangerous.
Zero forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Just some local thugs trying to squeeze money out of the new business."
The Captain's expression hardened. "Tell me. In detail."
From the kitchen doorway, Soma appeared, holding a fresh plate. "Well," he said, his voice regaining some of its usual confidence, "let's talk with the meal, shall we?"
As they sat together at the bar, the only three souls in the quiet café, Zero and Soma recounted the entire event. They told him about the striped suits, the guns, the insults, and the final, chilling demand for 3000 Sol.
The Captain listened without interruption, his massive hands resting on the counter. When they finished, he let out a long, weary sigh. "Haaahh... those guys," he said, a note of bitter familiarity in his voice. "The Vipers. So, it seems the Kingdom's grand incentive to imitate the Athenean Concord's police force didn't work out as they intended."
"So these Watchers... they're the Kingdom's police?" Zero asked.
"Yes," the Captain confirmed, swirling the tea Zero had made him. "The Crown saw how the Athenean Concord used their 'Sentinels' to maintain order and wanted to implement the same system here. The Watchers have been established for decades now, but in most city districts, they're still like this—corrupt, lazy, or in the pockets of local gangs."
"It is what it is, I guess," Soma said with a pragmatic shrug. "There's no easy way to clean up that kind of mess."
They finished their meal in a heavy silence. Then, suddenly, the Captain stood up. He placed his payment on the counter, more than enough for the meal. "Thanks for the food," he said, his voice flat and unreadable. "As always, it was delicious."
Then, without another word, he turned, opened the door, and stepped out into the night.
Zero stared after him. "That was weird," he said, a frown creasing his brow. "He usually stays for a while, has another drink before he goes back."
Soma shrugged, though he too felt the strangeness of the Captain's abrupt departure. He walked to the front door, flipped the sign to 'CLOSED', and slid the bolt home, the sound echoing in the now-empty café.
The weight of the night events hung in the air long after the Captain had departed. The café was clean, the chairs were stacked, but the silence felt heavy, violated.
"Let's take a break tomorrow," Zero said suddenly, his voice quiet in the empty room.
Soma, who was putting the last of the clean dishes away, looked over at him. He saw the exhaustion in Zero's posture, the faint shadow of the bruise still on his cheek, and understood it wasn't just about physical tiredness. "Alright," he agreed without hesitation. "Let's just rest."
The next morning, for the first time in a week, the frantic energy of a looming service was absent. Sunlight streamed into the loft, but both Zero and Soma remained in their beds, luxuriating in the simple, profound pleasure of having nowhere to be and nothing to do. They were being deliberately, wonderfully lazy.
"If only we had our Blackberry phones," Soma said from his room, his voice muffled by his pillow.
Zero sighed from his own bed, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling. "Haaahhh, I know," he called back. "I want to play a game. Or just scroll through something mindless. I'm so bored."
"Alright," Soma's voice came again, followed by the sound of him finally rolling out of bed. "What do you want for breakfast? I'm not doing anything fancy."
"Just pancakes, please," Zero replied.
A few minutes later, the sweet, comforting smell of batter hitting a hot, buttery pan wafted through the loft. It was a scent that could coax anyone from their slumber. Zero finally got up, drawn by the aroma, and found a tall stack of perfectly golden-brown pancakes waiting for him at the dining table.
As they ate in comfortable silence, Zero's mind drifted. He remembered the feeling of his head being slammed into the hard wood of the bar, the wrenching pain in his horn, the cold, suffocating feeling of powerlessness. He had been strong enough to endure it, but he was tired of just enduring. He wanted the power to make sure it never happened again.
He put his fork down, a new, hard glint in his eye. He took a deep breath, exhaling the last of his lazy morning languor. "Soma," he said, his voice quiet but charged with a sudden, unshakeable resolve. "Get your ass to the bathroom. Go take a shower."
Soma, in the middle of a large bite dripping with syrup, paused and looked at him, confused. "Hahh? Now? Why?"
"We're doing our second Gacha today," Zero declared.
Soma's confusion vanished, replaced instantly by a wide, brilliant grin. "Alright then!" he said cheerfully, swallowing his mouthful of pancake. He jumped up from the table, his energy matching Zero's newfound determination. "Don't start without me!" he called, already heading for the bathroom.
Freshly showered and dressed in clean, casual clothes, Zero and Soma stood before the old-fashioned cash register, the source of their strange new power. The café was quiet, the morning light still soft and gentle.
"Are you sure we need to do all this?" Soma asked, leaning against the counter with a skeptical look. "It's just Gacha. You just tap the button."
"Shush," Zero hissed, his expression one of utmost gravity. "This is important. It's a ritual." He put his hands together in a prayer-like gesture and motioned for Soma to follow suit. Soma rolled his eyes but reluctantly copied the pose.
Zero closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly. "Dear Cecil," he began, his voice a low, reverent murmur. "God of Celestial Paperwork, Divine Intern of Domain 6-A. It is I, your humble, off-the-books reincarnation. Please bless me with good cards today. I'm not asking for Goku or Vegetta rank cards right off the bat, just something useful. May your divine pen never run out of ink, and may your paperwork be miraculously lessened... should you choose to grant me good fortune."
Soma snorted. "Are you praying to him or cursing him with more work if he doesn't deliver?"
Zero opened one eye, a devilish smile spreading across his face. "Depends entirely on the outcome of these next few moments."
"Stop that," Soma said, shaking his head. "You look like a third-rate cartoon villain when you smile like that."
Ignoring him, Zero turned back to the register. He took a deep breath, then tapped the screen. The blue holographic display flickered to life, showing their hard-earned balance: 3790 Gacha Points.
Soma's eyes lit up. "Uuuu, do three 11-pulls! Go on!"
Zero nodded, his focus absolute. He tapped the [11x Draw] button once. A soft chime echoed, and the number dropped. He tapped it a second time. Another chime. And a third. With each tap, a shimmering, foil-wrapped pack of cards materialized from the register's slot with a soft hiss, hovering gently in the air before them.
There were three packs in total, each with a different cartoonish image of Cecil on the front. One showed him winking with a peace sign, just like their first pack. The second had him looking smug, holding a clipboard like a trophy. The third, however, showed Cecil with huge, comical tears streaming down his face.
Soma pointed at the last one. "Let's just hope the crying one isn't the bad luck pack."
"Stop it! Don't jinx them!" Zero whispered frantically.
Soma threw his hands up in mock exasperation. "Why are you getting mad at me? You're the one who already pulled the packs. It's too late for jinxes!"
**A/N**
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**A/N**