The night started normal.
Too normal, Lian would think later.
The goblin arrived first, as always, dragging his feet and complaining about the group of paladins who had spent the day "purifying" every corner of the first floor.
"As if dirt was the real enemy," he grumbled, dropping onto his stool. "They spent more mana cleaning than fighting."
Lian passed him his usual drink, already prepared.
"At least they didn't burn you this time."
"Small victories," the goblin admitted, drinking.
Lyra appeared shortly after, her footsteps silent as always. She carried her chalkboard under her arm now, a permanent accessory. She settled into her corner and raised her hand in greeting.
Lian returned the gesture and began preparing her tea.
The slime came bouncing in, leaving a damp trail on the stone floor. It seemed more animated than usual, its blue light pulsing with a cheerful rhythm.
"Good day, huh?" Lian commented, placing its food container.
The slime pulsed three times.
Very good, apparently.
The First Floor Boss entered with his usual imposing presence, but there was something different in his expression. Less fatigue. More... satisfaction.
"What happened?" Lian asked while preparing his drink.
The Boss sat down with a sigh that almost sounded content.
"A group of rookies defeated me today."
Lian blinked.
"And that's... good?"
"They worked as a team. Used strategy. Not brute force." The Boss accepted his glass. "They made me work for it. It was... refreshing."
The goblin snorted.
"You like the challenge. I just want to be left alone."
"That's why you're a hallway guard and I'm a floor boss."
"That's why I still have all my horns intact."
The Boss unconsciously touched the crack in his left horn and grunted. The goblin smiled smugly.
Lian smiled to himself while wiping the counter. These little jokes had become more common lately. The bar was becoming something more than just a place to heal wounds.
It was becoming a home.
Lyra scribbled something on her chalkboard and held it up:
Quiet day for you too?
Lian nodded.
"Paperwork, mostly. One group lost their equipment on the third floor and I had to process the insurance refund."
The goblin nearly spat out his drink.
"Adventurers have insurance?"
"You think they can afford new equipment every time they die?"
"Never thought about it."
"Most don't," Lian said. "That's why I have a job."
Lyra wrote again:
The world is more boring than heroes admit.
"Most things are," the Boss agreed. "Glory is only 10% of the work. The rest is routine."
The slime pulsed in agreement.
The conversation continued, flowing from one topic to another with the comfort of people who had grown used to each other's company.
Lian was surprised to realize how much had changed since his first night here. He no longer just listened. He participated.
He belonged.
Maybe that's why he didn't hear it at first.
The first sound was so faint it got lost under the murmur of conversation.
The second was a little louder.
A scratch.
A drag.
Something moving in the hallway.
The Boss raised his head first, his combat instincts still sharp.
"Did you hear that?"
Everyone went still.
Silence.
Then, again.
Scratch. Drag. A labored, wet breathing.
Something was coming toward the bar.
Something wounded.
Lian came out from behind the counter just as the figure appeared in the doorway.
A kobold.
Young. Maybe no taller than Lian's waist. Green scales stained dark red. One of his arms hung at an odd angle. His tail dragged behind him, leaving an uneven trail of blood.
But what Lian noticed first were his eyes.
Yellow. Bright. Full of terror.
The kobold took another staggering step forward.
"Please..." The voice was small, broken. "Please, help..."
Then his legs gave out.
Lian moved without thinking, crossing the distance in three strides and catching the kobold before he hit the ground.
The small body was surprisingly light. And hot. Too hot.
Fever.
"Boss!" Lian called. "Help me carry him to the counter."
The Boss was already moving, his large hands holding the kobold with surprising gentleness while Lian swept everything off the counter with one arm. Glasses and bottles clinked but didn't break.
They placed the kobold on the surface.
Now, under the full light of the lamps, Lian could see the extent of the damage.
Sword wounds along the torso. Fire burns on the left shoulder. The right arm definitely broken, bone pressing against the skin from within.
But the worst was the chest.
There was a deep puncture wound just below the ribs. Dark blood welled up with every shallow breath.
"Damn," the goblin whispered, approaching. "Who did this?"
"Adventurers," the kobold gasped, his eyes fluttering. "They came back... after closing... looking for... extra treasure..."
"The bastards," the Boss growled. "Breaking curfew is..."
"It doesn't matter now," Lian interrupted, his mind already racing. "We need to stop the bleeding."
The goblin looked at him.
"You? You know how?"
Lian stopped.
Did he?
Images flickered in his mind. Not from this life. From the previous one.
A mandatory first aid course at the office. Boring at the time, irrelevant to his desk job.
But now...
"A little," he said. "Enough, maybe."
Lyra was already moving, running toward the back room. The slime bounced after her.
"What do you need?" the Boss asked.
Lian took a deep breath, forcing his mind to focus.
"Clean cloths. Hot water. Strong alcohol. And any healing potions we have."
"I only have two," the goblin said, pulling small red bottles from his backpack. "I save them for emergencies."
"This qualifies."
Lyra returned with an armful of cloths. The slime carried a bucket of water, somehow balanced on its gelatinous body.
Lian took a cloth, wet it, and began cleaning the blood around the chest wound.
The kobold whimpered, writhing.
"I know," Lian murmured. "I know it hurts. But I need to see how deep it is."
He cleaned more blood. The wound was deep. Very deep.
But it hadn't hit anything vital, or the kobold would already be dead.
Small victories.
"The arm is broken," the Boss said. "It needs to be straightened before it heals wrong."
Lian nodded.
"Wait until I treat the chest wound first. He can't handle more pain at once."
He took one of the healing potions and uncapped it. The red liquid glowed faintly, smelling of iron and mint.
"This is going to hurt," he warned.
He poured the potion directly into the wound.
The kobold screamed, his body arching off the counter. The Boss had to hold him down to keep him from falling.
"Easy!" Lian said firmly. "It's almost over!"
The potion bubbled and hissed, magical tissue fusing with torn flesh. It wasn't perfect. Potions never were. But it was enough to stop the immediate bleeding.
The kobold's breathing became less labored.
Lian exhaled with relief.
"Okay. Arm next."
He looked at the Boss.
"I'm going to need you to hold him firmly."
The Boss nodded, placing his large hands on the kobold's shoulders.
Lian touched the broken arm carefully, feeling the displaced bone beneath. His mind reached back, searching for knowledge he hadn't used in years.
Two lifetimes ago.
Alignment. Traction. Stabilization.
"On the count of three," he said. "One..."
He pulled on two.
The bone snapped back into place with a wet click.
The kobold screamed again, then collapsed, unconscious from the pain.
Maybe that was for the best.
Lian poured the second potion over the arm, watching as magic knitted the bone back together. Not completely. It would still need time to heal properly. But he wouldn't die from it.
"We need a splint," he said.
The goblin was already moving. He took two pieces of wood from the firewood pile next to the hearth and passed them to Lian.
Together, they secured the arm, using strips of cloth as bandages.
Finally, Lian leaned back, wiping sweat from his forehead.
His hands were covered in blood.
The kobold lay on the counter, unconscious but breathing steadily.
"Will he live?" the goblin asked quietly.
"I think so," Lian said. "But he needs rest. And more proper healing when he wakes up."
Lyra wrote on her chalkboard:
You did well.
Lian looked at his trembling hands.
"I barely knew what I was doing."
"But you did it anyway," the Boss said. "That's what matters."
The slime rolled closer to the unconscious kobold, its light pulsing softly. Almost... protectively.
Lian looked around the bar. At his customers. His... friends.
"We should move him somewhere more comfortable. He can't stay on the counter all night."
"There's a back room," the goblin suggested. "Where they store extra inventory."
"Help me carry him."
Together, they moved the kobold to the small room behind the bar. It wasn't much—just a room with boxes and supplies—but there was enough space to clear a corner and make an improvised bed with cloths and old sacks.
They placed the kobold carefully.
The slime settled nearby, apparently appointing itself guardian.
Lian returned to the bar and began cleaning. There was blood everywhere. On the counter. On the floor. On his hands.
The goblin helped him silently, using cloths to rub out the stains.
Lyra collected the broken glasses Lian had knocked down in his rush.
The Boss stood near the door, looking toward the dark hallway with a thoughtful expression.
"You worried they'll come back?" Lian asked.
"The adventurers who broke curfew," the Boss said. "If they're looking for treasure, they might come here."
Lian froze.
He hadn't thought of that.