Prota's doubts hadn't been fully reassured, but John's words had put her enough at ease to stick around for a little while longer. She remained hesitant for the first few days, but she was easily lured out by food. After regaining some of her strength, she began to feel a little more comfortable in this tiny home.
She still felt uncomfortable. A combination of guilt and fear kept her from truly feeling at ease. But the longer she stayed, the more she lowered her guard and the more she opened up. Once she was somewhat sure John wouldn't attack her out of nowhere, she felt the urge to help out, but she didn't know how anything worked. She might've been curious, but it seemed that her fear of messing something up was stronger than her desire to be of use.
Eventually, their daily routine settled into something like this:
The day would start with an alarm clock going off, waking a disgruntled John up. From what Prota had seen, he hated waking up early. He'd head off into the washroom with a bird's nest for hair and come out somewhat cleaner. She'd wait on the bed while he cooked up a meal, which they'd share silently. Dishes would be put in the sink, and John would head down to tend to the bar.
Prota, on the other hand, remained upstairs. She wasn't exactly trapped there, but she might as well have been. She enjoyed looking at the books he had. She couldn't read, but there were a few images she enjoyed looking at.
John would come back up for a late lunch, usually a sandwich or something, and then go back down. The same thing would happen for dinner. Prota would often fall asleep before the bar closed, but she knew John would be on his sofa the next morning.
Just like that, the days passed. Nothing of interest. Nothing of importance. Just plain, ordinary days.
Now that she was in a safe environment, though, she was learning a few things. One was that she had an abnormal resistance to pain. As a child, she was still quite clumsy, often tripping and bumping into things. It never really hurt, though. She just assumed this was normal, but she quickly found out otherwise.
She'd been picking something up from under the table when John had come into the room. Prota quickly stood up to greet him, but in doing so, she bashed her head against the underside of the table. Not noticing anything off, she simply moved a little to the right and stood up again, only to see John with wide eyes of concern.
"Are you ok?" he said worriedly.
"...?"
Why wouldn't she be ok? Still, her hitting her head must've been bad to some extent, because John wasn't someone to say something like that if he didn't mean it.
That didn't mean he wasn't a little suspicious. His eyes didn't match his face, and his smile seemed off. He often said things that defied common sense and had a severe lack of understanding of things most people already knew. Cities, types of magic and other such things were all topics John seemed largely unaware of. But he never tried to hide it. He just shrugged it off and went about his day.
But he was also reliable. Sure, he was lazy. Yes, he let the dishes pile up in the sink, and laundry often sat unattended on the floor. Bills and deadlines were often left till the last minute, and he always found excuses to put things off. But if he said he was going to do something, he would do it.
It was almost contradictory, his suspicious nature and his straighforwardness. But that was just how he was.
She wanted to trust him, but at the same time, she found that she couldn't. The natural defences she'd built up were too strong to let something like that happen. Something would need to happen to break those walls down.
That something was coming sooner than she thought.
~~~
The day had started somewhat innocently. The bar was quite empty. Just five patrons all sitting in a single booth, a half a dozen drinks and a couple of snacks spread between the group. John was, to his annoyance, cleaning glasses at the bar sink.
The quiet environment was interrupted by two sharp knocks, and before anyone could say anything, two city guards walked in. It was a strange thing to do. It wasn't like the door was locked, and one didn't need permission to enter a bar. Well, maybe it was just some kind of procedure. A way of letting you know they were there.
"Hello. Can I get you anything?" John said casually, putting the now clean glass away.
This wasn't the first time a city guard had come in. They usually liked to stop by near the end of their shifts to grab a quick drink, maybe listen around for some local gossip or something of the like.
Unfortunately, this was, in fact, not what they were here for.
"You're John Quarta, right?" the first guard said roughly. "We received a report that you assaulted two men. We're going to need you to come with us."
The man in question just stared in disbelief.
"...hey, look me in the eyes and say that again. Me? The coreless guy? Really?"
"Don't get cocky. That doesn't clear you of suspicion."
John just snorted. "Ok, so you're saying… what? Oh, look at me. I'm gonna go take a walk. Oh man, look, two other dudes way stronger than me. This is definitely a fight I should take! You're saying I'm stupid enough to do something like that?"
The guard slammed his fist on the counter. Who was this bartender? Why was he being so flippant?
"Hey. I don't know who you think you are, but you can't just talk to us like that. We're not your pals. Have some respect. This is an investigation in regards to the assault of two nobles."
John sighed. "Ah. Nobles, huh? Scraping the bottom of the barrel, are we? The [Author] couldn't think of anything more creative than this?"
"What- huh?" the guard frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't worry about it. Keep going, yeah?"
John was visibly unconcerned. He glanced at the group in the booth. Those four… yeah. They'd be more than enough to take care of the bar should he have to step out for a bit.
The guard took out a scroll of paper and cleared his throat.
"John Quarta, you are charged with assaulting and knocking out two nobles of the royal household. You will come with us to the castle for a formal report."
"Mm… why, though?" John shrugged. "Look. You can try to drag me off. Like I said, I'm coreless and all that. You would win. No question about it. But do you really think everyone's gonna be happy that the guy selling them drinks is gonna get dragged off for who knows how long?"
The conversation had been relatively quiet, but a few heads had already turned toward the guards, and their gazes weren't kind. The murmur of conversation had quickly grown somewhat heated, and the atmosphere was no longer friendly.
"...the captain warned us this would happen," the other guard said quietly. "She said he had a way of being rather stubborn."
"Do we proceed?"
"I don't really want to start a riot."
The two looked back at John and gave a nod.
"...fine. There's no proof that it was you other than word of mouth, so we'll leave it alone. You'd better not try this again, though. We're only leaving you alone because the circumstances themselves are rather dubious."
"Yeah, good to hear," John said, not bothering to hide how annoyed he was.
He started to head back to his bar, but the guards weren't done just yet.
"We'll let you go if you can confirm one thing, that is."
John froze. A shiver ran down his spine.
"Yeah? What's that?"
Shit. He had an idea of what was coming next.
"The nobles said that they were out to "kill the demon," whatever that means, but the gist of it is that they said a small girl with long white hair had been with you. We just need to confirm that there is no such child like that living with you, and you'll be good to go."
"Do you have a search warrant?"
"Do we have a what?"
John cursed under his breath. "This isn't… damn, that doesn't exist here. Look. I'm not gonna just let you waltz upstairs and look around my place, ok?"
"Why? If you've got nothing to hide, then why not?"
The guards were trying to hide it, but they knew. They had him. John clenched his teeth. Prota might've been smart enough to listen in, but even then, it wasn't like there were a lot of places to hide. No, he had to assume the worst-case scenario, which was that Prota simply wasn't hiding at all.
"...fine," John said quietly. "Just let me calm the customers down."
He went out from behind the counter and talked to the five customers that were in the bar. As he talked to each of them, they nodded, casting a few looks at the guards but for the most part relaxing in their seats and altogether developing a more passive posture. With that out of the way, John opened his door and lead the guards upstairs.
~~~
"Hey. I heard the conversation between that fella and the guards. Will he be ok? He's clearly hiding something, right?" the new customer asked.
He'd only been here a few times, but he liked the place and didn't want anything bad to happen.
"John? That guy? If he's hiding anything and the guards find it, I'd be surprised if they come back alive."
"A-alive? But- doesn't he lack a mana core?"
"Oh, sure. He's completely coreless. I don't think there's a single person that has less mana than him. He's broken appraisal orbs since they're supposed to be able to pick up even the faintest of mana traces. He's completely dry, through and through."
"Then- what, is he some kind of hidden martial arts master?"
The regulars looked at each other and laughed.
"That guy can barely lift more than a few crates of beer at a time. Martial arts master? Maybe he's just really good at acting, but no, he's pretty average. Not exactly a 2-inch weakling, but no, there's nothing special about his physique."
Another one of the regulars snorted. "If he's that good at acting, he should be on a stage, not running a bar."
The newbie frowned. "Come on, guys, enough beating around the bush. What's he got?"
"Don't worry about it," the regulars grinned.
The new customer sighed, disappointed, but it was clear he wouldn't be getting any more information. The small talk continued until a loud click silenced everyone in the bar. The regulars smiled at each other knowingly.
"Hey, you wanted to know what he's got? He's got that."
~~~
The first thing the guards had seen when they'd gone up was Prota, who'd been sitting on the sofa, reading a book. She was in plain sight. There hadn't even been an effort to hide. John suppressed a grimace.
"Freeze!" the guards yelled, pointing their swords at the girl.
The first guard looked back, not even bothering to hide his disappointment.
"Seriously? You didn't even bother to hide her? The demon was here, after all? What were you thinking?"
Prota's expression froze, and she began to shake ever so slightly. Despair and guilt filled her eyes. John didn't have the time to question why. Only one thought was running through his head at the moment.
She's just a [Character]. You can let them take her. It's not worth the effort. And if that's a mistake, you can always…
He made the mistake of taking one more look. She was afraid. Incredibly so. Of what, though? Being arrested? Being killed? That wasn't that big of an issue, was it? Well… right. He cursed to himself. Was he really just going to let this happen?
You can let her die. Will you?
"Mr. Quarta? Hello?" the guard said, then saw the look on his face. Slowly, he turned around and pointed his sword at John. "Our captain told us you're not dangerous. You don't have a drop of mana in you, right? Don't resist. Come along calmly, and we won't have to do anything."
"The girl?"
"Don't worry about her. If you let us take her, we'll leave you alone. You can just stay here, and we'll pretend nothing happened."
Prota shrunk into herself, smaller than ever, as if she wanted to shrivel up and disappear. She wouldn't blame John if he left her alone. They barely knew each other, and if what the guards were saying was true, then only a fool would try to fight back. Why should he sacrifice his safety for her sake?
This was it. Her past was catching up to her, and it was finally time to pay her dues. She didn't want to go, though. She'd just begun to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but now, it was being blocked off. She desperately wanted someplace to call home, and while she wasn't sure if this was it, it was the closest she'd ever gotten.
And now it was gone.
"Yeah? Ok, let's say she's a demon. So you're telling me you guys are racist? You discriminating simply because she's not human? Damn, I didn't know you guys were like that."
"Racist? What? No! You don't know about demons? Come on, that's not possible. We were all taught what demons are growing up. Those mindless monsters that come from over the seas, terrible beings with terrifying power. You've never heard the prophecy of the demon king and the hero?"
"Demon king and he- you're kidding me," John groaned. "You're telling me I'm in that kind of [Story]?"
He ran his hands through his hair and sighed.
"I'm getting off track. Look. I don't care. This girl is not a demon. She's just a girl. Trust me."
"Sorry, but your word isn't worth a lot to us. We'll have to decide this for ourselves."
"Damn." John closed his eyes and shrugged. "Well. I tried."
Prota, too, closed her eyes. She didn't blame John for making this choice. It made sense, after all. It would be back to the streets for her. She squeezed her eyes, forcing herself to get up and run, but as they opened back up, she found that nothing was coming for her.
What Prota had failed to take into account was John's personality. Something in him had snapped, a realization that made Prota irrelevant. The nobles had made this report, hadn't they? After being piss drunk in the streets and fucking things up. Was he just going to let this slide?
Of course not.
Instead, she was greeted with the strange sight of John holding some a tool of sorts. A handle with some sort of trigger was attached to a barrel, a tube sticking out the end. It looked like a small, compressed crossbow without the arrow or string. The red steel glinted as the sun streamed through the window. John's finger tapped the trigger lightly as he aimed it at the guard.
"Look, it's not like I want to kill you, but if this is what it comes to, then it is what it is, right?" He shifted his arm ever so slightly to the right to point to the other guard. "You, too. We can test it out, I guess. Whether or not you can move faster than the speed of sound. All in the name of science, or whatever."
His thumb landed on a piece of metal that extended from the back, and he pushed down, letting a loud click ring throughout the room.
"Your choice. We can all leave as friends, or we can all leave as bodies."
The guards backed down a bit. They weren't exactly greenhorns with no experience under their belt. They were warriors who'd done their fair share of work. People like them instinctively knew who was dangerous and who wasn't. It was a requirement for staying alive in this field of work. If you went against someone you couldn't handle, it meant death. And John was someone they couldn't handle.
Their brains knew that he couldn't use magic. But their hearts were telling them to leave.
"What the- what the hell?" the first guard gasped. "H-hey. I thought he was coreless."
Prota had been silently watching from the side, but she was just as equally amazed. She wasn't as capable at feeling killing intent as the guards were, but even she could feel the dangerous aura oozing out from John. Why was he acting like this? For her? What was he thinking?
She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to be protected. Why? Just why was he going so far for her? Someone who had nothing to give in return?
"O-oi. That weapon," the second guard said, sweat dripping down his face.
The first guard looked down and frowned, confused, only for his eyes to shoot wide open in recognition.
"You- you're that guy," he said quietly. "What are you doing running a bar?"
"Don't worry about it. I- I mean, I have no idea what you're talking about. What guy? Just leave. We all agree that nothing happened here, right?"
The guard nodded and gulped, motioning for his partner to accompany him.
"Come on, let's leave."
"What about her?" John said, nodding towards Prota, his weapon primed and ready.
"She was never here," the second guard said, eager to leave.
"Good."
With that, the two men hurried down the stairs and left.
~~~
"Look at 'em go," one of the regulars said cheerfully. She had bright red hair and a boisterous laugh, her muscles bulging as she downed the rest of her beer. "Quarta. That bastard's as sly as ever."
"Come on, Hestia," a thin man with glasses said, putting his hand on her arm. "Give the guards some slack."
"Shut the fuck up, Gale," Hestia growled. "If they can't handle the heat, they shouldn't poke the fire. Ain't that right?"
A heavily bearded dwarf grunted. "Do not underestimate them. They have been through their fair share of battles. They were simply doing the task assigned to them, and they did it well. They knew when to approach and when to leave. Is that not all they can do?"
"Oh, Gorm, shut up," the fourth regular sighed. He was thin and wore a black cloak, twin daggers hanging by his side. "We all know that he's the kind of guy everyone underestimates. Those two fools probably didn't know what they were walking into."
The newbie looked around carefully. What were they saying?
"Um…are you guys adventurers or something?"
"A few years ago. You ever hear of a team that was formed to subjugate a demon cult? They were only taking the best of the best." Hestia grinned, slamming her now empty cup onto the table.
"Well yeah, they're pretty famous. There was this really good swordsman, a really muscular fire mage, this dwarf tank and an elf assassin…" his voice trailed off as he looked at the smiling party in front of him. "Oh, dear Celeste…"
"That was us, yes. But those days are behind us now. We are simply adventurers who continue to make a living."
"Wasn't there a fifth?" the newbie said, looking at the people in front of him with a newfound respect.
Gorm just looked at the man, staring deep into his eyes.
"Who do you think?"
"The- the bartender? No way, that's impossible. You're all S-class mages, at the very least! What's a manaless bartender doing with you guys?"
Gale dodged a punch from an increasingly violent Hestia and pushed his glasses up his nose.
"Well, that's not really our place to say."
"He's a guy with balls of steel!" Hestia grinned. "I didn't know someone so crafty and skinny could be so ballsy!"
The newbie frowned. What was a guy like that doing running a bar?
"So… you guys come here to see him?"
"Something like that, yeah."
"What was all that stuff about authors and stories?"
"Beats me," Gale shrugged. "If you ask me, he hasn't got it all sorted out up there, if you know what I mean. He's super reliable. He has this uncanny intuition that saved our hides multiple times, but I guess you can't be all that sane with an ability like that."
"Sane?"
"He'd sometimes do completely illogical things," Grey explained. "Things beyond our comprehension. But they always worked. We tried to find out why, but we never did. I guess it doesn't matter. He was a good guy in the end, even if he did keep his little secrets to himself."
The man slowly put his cup down, shaking his head.
"The times I've come here, not knowing…"
"Don't worry about it, child. Just learn and move forward," Gorm said kindly.
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of feet pounding down the wooden stairs.
"Ah, there he is. That motherfucker," Hestia called out as John came down the stairs. "Why'd you let them go?"
"Are you stupid? I'm not fighting the entire army," John said, pointing out the obvious. "Look, as much as it's great and wonderful having you guys here, I'm gonna have to close early today. Get out."
Just as they were about to leave, John gave them one last look.
"You guys know, right?"
"Not a word. Don't worry, Quarta. We know how to keep secrets."
As the group left, John flipped the sign from "open" to "closed" and turned around to find Prota waiting for him at the base of the stairs. She had the cloak he'd given her wrapped around her body. She stared at him, confused and, to be honest, a little afraid. John stared back, noticing something for the first time.
Her eyes were always half closed, giving the impression that she was sleeping or bored. Her eyes were different shades of blue. Her right eye was more fiery blue, while her left looked more like an icy blue. Her mouth was just a tiny line, never moving, never changing. In some ways, it might've been cute or endearing, but it was also a little disturbing. John shook his head. He was getting distracted.
Well. He'd been putting this off for a while, but it seemed he could put it off no longer.
"Alright. I can see you've got questions. Let's get all of this settled, I guess."