Sebas trailed behind the bartender, nerves fraying with every step.
Why did I agree to follow a stranger? His mind raced. What if this guy's a serial killer? Or worse — a recruiter for some MLM scheme?
He tugged at his waistband and eyed the man's broad back. A shiver ran down his spine.
Too late to back out now.
He whispered into the void: "Hey, Angel — you'd better have my back here. I'm your 'chosen adventurer,' remember?"
Silence. Typical.
After a few blocks, the bartender stopped. Sebas nearly walked into him.
"We're here, Sebas."
He gestured to a cozy, hole-in-the-wall bar.
Sebas froze. How'd he know my name?!
The bartender turned, puzzled. "It's on your admission letter…?"
"Oh. Right." Sebas coughed. "But actually, my real name is — BEEEEEP —"
His true name dissolved into static.
The bartender blinked. "Ah… foreign names these days. Very… creative."
Goddamn it, Angel!! Sebas' face burned.
The bartender pushed the door open. A booming voice called from inside:
"Boss! You're back late."
"Ah, Buki — shouldn't you be getting ready for school?" The bartender chuckled.
"Nah. You've done too much for me. Least I can do is help close up."
Sebas lingered at the entrance, roses still in hand. That voice — deep, rough, radiating testosterone — was not something a normal person could fake. Whoever it belonged to had to be enormous.
"Speaking of new students," the bartender said, "I found a freshman who seems to be in a bit of trouble. Might even be your junior!"
"Oh?" The voice perked up. "What's his major?"
Lingering in the doorway any longer would be rude. Sebas cleared his throat, adjusted his one article of clothing, and walked in — roses in hand, dignity in shambles.
The bar's interior was cozy but stylish, a classic pub with warm lighting and worn wood. Then Sebas saw him.
He'd expected someone beefy.
He hadn't expected a mountain in a vest.
"Sebas, meet Kotobuki Ryūjirō — we call him Buki. Third-year, so 'senpai' will do." The bartender grinned.
Sebas craned his neck up. Then further up.
Ryūjirō — a tower of muscle with golden surfer hair — loomed over him, smiling like a man who had never experienced self-doubt.
"Yo! 'Sebas,' huh? Weird name. Exchange student?"
"Y-yeah. From the… Kingdom of Angel." The words came out robotically.
His shock was justified. Ryūjirō looked exactly like the protagonist from an NTR eroge he'd once played.
This guy absolutely steals girlfriends, Sebas thought. Maintain safe distance.
Ryūjirō's grin widened. "So what's your major, little bro?"
STOP SMILING. YOU ARE LITERALLY THE ANTAGONIST.
"Ah, his letter says Mechanical Engineering — same as you, Buki!" The bartender clapped his hands together. "Look after him, yeah? I'm off!"
"W-wait—!" Sebas reached out, but the door swung shut.
A shadow fell over him.
"Heh. Same major." Ryūjirō's hand — roughly the size of a dinner plate — landed on Sebas' shoulder and compressed him like a soda can. "Don't worry, kouhai. Senpai's got you~"
His smile could have powered a small city.
Or blinded a large one.