The iron chandelier, holding large candles, swayed gently, casting a dim orange glow across the room. Adventurers just back from missions filled the space. The clinking of glasses and hearty laughter filled every corner of the tavern, creating a constant, comfortable noise.
In a corner of the room, three men sat around a round wooden table, its surface scarred with knife marks.
The first man had messy white hair that shimmered under the dim light. He wore a white coat with striking silver ornaments. His purple eyes were sharp yet playful. That man was Kilasafi.
Next to him sat a man with thin-rimmed glasses. His green hair was pulled back neatly and tied, accentuating his serious facial features. He wore a more formal suit. That was Fasar.
The third man sat most casually, leaning back lazily. His black hair was parted in the middle, framing a pair of charming bright green eyes. He wore a blue shirt with a high collar. His name was Rezak.
"How's it going with your elf girlfriend, Rezak?" Fasar leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand while grinning widely.
Kilasafi placed his glass on the table with a soft thud. "Ah yes. You haven't told us anything. You've been dating for three weeks, right?" His eyes fixed on Rezak. "Have you done it?"
Rezak chuckled softly. He brushed his black hair back with a confident motion, then smiled broadly until his eyes crinkled. "Happyyyyyyyyy."
He paused briefly before continuing in a proud voice. "I call her Mommy now."
"Say what?" Fasar choked on his own spit. His eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting up almost to his green hairline.
"Huh?" Kilasafi tilted his head, frowning deeply, staring at Rezak as if his friend had just spoken an alien language.
Fasar and Kilasafi looked at each other for two seconds.
"Y-you fucking kidding right?" Fasar leaned his face in, staring intently at Rezak.
"No fucking way, Bro. No fucking way." Fasar shook his head repeatedly while covering his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Shit, man. To elf? In Isekai?" Fasar massaged his temples. "Daymm." He exhaled roughly through his nose.
"What? What's wrong? I mean, she likes it." Rezak shrugged with a flat expression. His hands opened in a gesture.
"At first I just tried it once. Then she looked like she liked it and well, up until now," Rezak continued casually.
"Do you call her Mommy on dates in public too or just in private?" asked Kilasafi, squinting.
"Well, rarely in public." Rezak tapped his fingers on the table. "Mostly private."
Fasar looked around the tavern nervously, making sure no one else was listening. "I'm not lying man. That's shit weird,"
"I mean, if on Earth, yes, we know the context of why you call her Mommy. But in here?" Fasar pointed at the tavern's wooden floor with a stiff index finger.
Kilasafi nodded in agreement. "Agreed."
Rezak chuckled at his friends' reactions. "Are you guys jealous?"
"Tch, hey stop talking about our business?" Rezak waved his hand, his face turning serious. "Aren't we supposed to evaluate our three years of living here?"
"Why are we fussing over the nickname Mommy?"
Kilasafi sighed deeply until his shoulders dropped. He picked up his drink and stared at his reflection in the murky liquid. "Yeah, you're right."
"Haaaahh. It's been three years since we were thrown here." Fasar took off his glasses for a moment, rubbed his tired eyes, then put them back on. His gaze was blank, staring at the wood grain on the table.
"Still counts as new," said Kilasafi.
"Three years. Three years." Fasar turned, looking at Kilasafi and Rezak alternately with a sharp gaze. "So far what the fuck we doin?"
"Adventuring. Hunting monsters. And maybe guard quests?" answered Kilasafi flatly.
Fasar snorted roughly. "I'm sick of it!"
"Sick of what?" asked Rezak, swirling the glass in his hand. "Isn't this already fitting the description in novels?"
"Adventuring, quests, getting a girlfriend. We're happy." Rezak pointed to his own chest.
"Nah, there's no 'we' in this context." Fasar shook his head firmly.
"I mean, we just do the same thing every day. Like there's nothing else. Our level is stuck at 29 now because the permit for level 10 dungeon costs some fucking 2000 gold coins!." Fasar counted on his fingers.
"And the only one with a girlfriend is you," Fasar pointed right at Rezak's face.
"Ish, be patient. Not time yet," Rezak defended himself, raising both hands in surrender.
"But yeah," said Kilasafi slowly, looking deep in thought. "It is kind of crappy though."
"Hmm like our weekly income is only 20 gold coins?"
"Yeah, every city quest pays 10 or 7 gold coins."
"Dungeon artifacts are practically forced to be sold to the association at cheap prices."
"Ah!" Fasar suddenly straightened his back stiffly. His eyes bulged behind his glasses, remembering something painful.
"I remember asking the artifact dealer. The price of the artifact we sold to the association was 100 gold coins, damn it!" Fasar kept his voice down to avoid shouting, but the veins in his neck were prominent.
"Hmm? Which one?" asked Kilasafi, frowning.
"100 gold coins?" Rezak jumped in his seat. "The fuck?"
"Yeah, the one from that snake-like monster!" Fasar's face reddened, holding back his emotion. His hands gripped the edge of the table tightly. "We only sold it for 30 gold coins, damn it!"
"fuck!!"
"Ah, that one?" Kilasafi covered his face with both palms, then rubbed them down roughly. "Well, what can we do."
"I could have spoiled my girlfriend with that." Rezak stared at the tavern ceiling with a faraway look full of regret.
"Damn!" Fasar slammed his fist on the table.
BANG!
The glasses on the table rattled.
"Yeah, the cost of living here doesn't match the income either. Inn rent is 50 gold coins a month, 20% monthly tax, and other living expenses." Kilasafi leaned back limply in his chair, staring bleakly at the crowd in the tavern.
"We're basically stuck in a 9 to 5."
"For real, for real." Fasar nodded stiltedly.
"Just be grateful, as long as we can eat, live peacefully and there's no defeating the demon king nonsense," asked Rezak, his tone sounding resigned. "Do we have any other choice?"
"That's why let's discuss!" Fasar leaned into the center of the table, staring intensely at his two friends.
"Hmm, should we switch to being waiters? Hmm, but the pay is still better as adventurers though," mumbled Kilasafi while tapping his chin.
"Open a restaurant?" suggested Rezak, raising one hopeful eyebrow.
"Nah, what about ingredients? Permits? Renting a place and all that, do we even have enough money?" Kilasafi looked at Rezak skeptically, his lips curling slightly.
"Ain't no way. W-we're even stuck in a 9-5 in an Isekai world, man," said Fasar softly, his gaze blank as if his soul had just left his body.
Kilasafi massaged his temples. "Maybe this is every human's fate.."
"Y-yeah, suppose so," mumbled Rezak softly.
Kilasafi sighed deeply again, his breath heavy amidst the tavern's bustle. "Selling dungeon artifacts to someone other than the association makes you rich quick, actually."
"But it's illegal, that's the shit part."
"Yeah, truly shit," agreed Fasar, his head hanging low.
"Tch, what to do then, let's just be grateful." Rezak scratched his head though it wasn't itchy, his face crumpled.
Silence.
The three of them fell silent. The laughter and music in the background seemed like a contrast mocking the despair at that round table. They just stared at their respective glasses which were almost empty.
After a moment of silence, Kilasafi's purple eyes suddenly glinted. He straightened up slowly. A thin, dangerous smile etched on his face.
"Ah, I have an idea."
"Hmm?" Rezak turned lazily.
"What? What?" Fasar turned quickly to Kilasafi, looking for a glimmer of hope.
Kilasafi looked at his two friends in turn, then whispered firmly with a serious, cold stare.
"Let's just become criminals."