"…A bar… and manga?"
The door was open.
He walked in.
The scent was unusual, like ink mixed with alcohol and a touch of sweetness. Jazz played quietly from an old speaker. It was definitely a bar, but the back wall was lined with shelves, crammed full of manga, volumes stacked from floor to ceiling. Some had bookmarks sticking out, and others carried scribbles in the margins.
A few manga volumes were stacked like coasters beside the sake bottles, and behind the bar, a woman in a sleek black dress was wiping down a glass.
Her gaze lifted as he approached.
"Welcome. First time?"
Under the warm bar lights, her porcelain skin glowed faintly. Long black hair, streaked with fine silver, cascaded down her back. The dress hugged her frame just enough to be elegant, just enough to be distracting. Her lips showed a natural pink, while her long-lashed, golden-brown eyes tilted upward at the edges.
Haruki paused. For a second, he forgot what he'd come in for. Or maybe just forgot how to think.
"Table for one?"
"Uh. Yeah."
She smiled at him, a slight curve of her lips. "What can I get for you?"
Haruki climbed onto a barstool in front of her. "Um… maybe a beer?"
Without missing a beat, she grabbed a frosty bottle from the fridge behind the counter. "House draft, then."
Haruki watched as she poured the amber liquid with steady hands. It foamed at the rim before she slid the glass to him. She leaned gently on the bar, her eyes curious but unobtrusive.
He wrapped his fingers around the cold glass, lifted it to his lips, and took a long gulp. The familiar coolness slid down his throat, but it didn't quite ease the tight knot in his chest.
"Rough day?" she asked.
"Try a long decade."
The bartender didn't laugh, but her eyes softened. She reached beneath the bar counter and, without a word, slid over a small bowl of peanuts and something that looked like butter cookies.
"I didn't order snacks," he said.
"They're on the house. Therapy snacks."
She topped up his beer, then asked quietly, "So, what's been bothering you?"
He watched the bubbles rise to the surface. "I work in finance. That pretty much sums it up. Lately, it's been nonstop budget meetings, last-minute reports, and a boss who thinks 'per my last email' is a valid form of communication."
The bartender raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a nightmare."
He took a slower sip this time. "Sometimes I catch myself staring at the screen, wondering if I'm already dead and stuck in some kind of spreadsheet limbo."
She smiled faintly, reaching for a towel and wiping a clean glass. "You're not the first to say that."
"Oh?" He glanced up.
"You're the third finance guy this week," she said lightly. "Though you're the only one who compared their soul to a spreadsheet."
Haruki gave a faint chuckle, then looked around as his eyes adjusted. The bar was empty except for him, and on the table beside him sat a manga volume next to an empty beer mug.
"Do people actually read here? While drinking?"
"Depends on the person," she said. "Some read. Some cry. One guy asked if he could punch a villainess."
"…Did he?"
"I gave him tissues instead."
A short laugh slipped out. Haruki felt a little tipsy, just enough for his thoughts to feel loose.
"So… how does this work? You just pick one and read? No time limit?"
"Pick what speaks to your soul," she said, lifting both hands in an open gesture.
Haruki tilted his head and scanned the shelf nearest to him. His gaze landed on a hand-lettered tag stuck slightly crooked along the middle row: Cursed Love Triangles: Vampire Edition.
He pointed at it, brow raised. "That's… seriously a category?"
"Of course."
The absurdity of it all was starting to amuse him. He pushed himself up and wandered toward the shelves by the wall, scanning the rows of manga across each tier.
He used to read this kind of stuff back in high school, but somewhere between deadlines, bills, and everything else that came with pretending to be an adult, he had stopped. Most of the titles now felt foreign to him.
"Looking for anything in particular?" The bartender asked from behind the counter.
"I don't know… maybe something about high school—" he mumbled, squinting at a title on the top shelf. "That one says Basketball Lover, right?"
"That one's too high," she said, following his gaze. "We don't usually reach for the ones up there."
"Then what's the point of putting manga up there if no one can read them?"
"Atmosphere?" she blurted, not quite joking.
Haruki muttered something under his breath and turned away, scanning the lower shelves instead. Nothing stood out. A few covers looked vaguely familiar, but nothing pulled him in. After a moment, he returned to the bar and dropped into his seat again, grabbing a peanut from the dish and tossing it into his mouth.
"Any other manga about basketball, maybe?" he asked, still chewing. "With some romance. High school stuff. Something I can actually reach this time?"
She gave him a look, half curious, half amused. "That's a pretty specific combo."
"It's just what catches me, you know? Something that resonates."
"We might have something. But if you're open to it… fantasy's a lot easier to find." She reached for a nearby shelf and pulled out a manga with a colorful cover. "This one is decent. The hero receives a powerful weapon from a gachapon machine and ends up slaying monsters for loot—"
Haruki shook his head before she could finish, already reaching for another peanut. He held it up like it meant something.
"It's gotta be basketball."