The bar was technically part of the dungeon. If marauding adventurers were lurking about...
"Should we close?" the goblin asked. "Turn off the lights?"
Lian looked around the bar. At the warm lamps. At his customers, who had come here seeking refuge.
At the back room where an injured kobold slept, trusting they'd be there when he woke.
"No," he said finally. "We don't close."
The goblin looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"Lian, if they come here..."
"Then we'll deal with it when it happens," Lian said firmly. "But I'm not going to close the only safe place in this dungeon because maybe something might happen."
Lyra wrote:
Brave. Or foolish.
Then added:
But I'll be here either way.
The goblin sighed.
"We're all going to die."
But he didn't move to leave.
The Boss smiled faintly.
"Well. It's been a while since I've had a good fight."
"I thought you just said you had a refreshing one today," the goblin pointed out.
"That was a fair fight. This would be different."
"Better?"
"More personal."
They took their positions.
The Boss stood near the door, his massive arms crossed.
The goblin sat on his stool but kept his hand near his sword.
Lyra returned to her corner, but there was something different in her posture. More alert. Ready.
Lian was behind the counter, wiping the same glass for the third time.
They waited.
Minutes crawled by.
No sound came from the hallway.
"Maybe they left," the goblin said finally.
"Maybe," Lian agreed.
But neither relaxed.
A movement from the back room caught their attention.
The kobold was awake.
Lian went immediately, kneeling beside the makeshift bed.
"Hey. How are you feeling?"
The kobold blinked slowly, his yellow eyes focusing.
"Where...?"
"You're safe. You're at the bar."
"Bar?"
"It's complicated. Rest."
The kobold tried to sit up, then groaned and lay back down.
"My arm..."
"It's broken, but it'll heal. I put a splint on it."
The kobold looked at his bandaged arm, then at Lian.
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why did you help? You're human. I'm..."
"A customer?" Lian interrupted. "Someone who needed help."
"A monster."
Lian sat back on his heels.
"You know what I've learned working here?"
The kobold shook his head.
"That 'monster' is just a word. I've seen them be more human than most adventurers. Kinder. More loyal."
He paused.
"The lines people draw between 'us' and 'them'... they're imaginary. They only matter if you let them matter."
The kobold stared at him for a long moment.
"Do you really believe that?"
"I didn't used to," Lian admitted. "In my previous life, everything was categories. Labels. Boxes to put people in."
He stood, extending a hand to help the kobold sit up properly.
"But here I learned different. Here I learned that what matters isn't what you are. It's what you do."
The kobold took his hand carefully.
"What's your name?" Lian asked.
"Zik."
"Nice to meet you, Zik. I'm Lian."
"Thank you, Lian. For... everything."
"No problem. Think you can walk? The others will want to know you're okay."
With Lian's help, Zik managed to stand. He limped heavily and his arm hung useless, but he was alive.
When they entered the main bar, everyone looked up.
The goblin let out a sigh of relief.
"Ah, thank the gods. I thought we'd have to explain to your tribe how we let their youngest member die."
"My tribe knows where I am?" Zik asked.
"They probably think you're dead," the Boss said. "Adventurers who attack after curfew don't usually leave survivors."
Zik looked down.
"I should have died. Almost did. But I managed to run..."
"Why did you come here?" Lian asked. "How did you know about this place?"
Zik hesitated.
"The elders talk about it. In whispers. They say there's a place on the first floor where the door says OPEN when all the humans leave. Where it's safe."
He looked around the bar.
"I thought it was just a story."
"Most good stories have some truth to them," Lian said.
Lyra held up her chalkboard:
Welcome to the misfits' club.
Zik blinked in confusion.
The goblin laughed.
"Sit down, pup. I'll get you something to drink."
"I don't have money..."
"Who said anything about money?" The goblin placed a small glass of something that glowed faintly. "First drink's free for anyone who almost died."
"That's a terrible business policy," Lian pointed out.
"Good thing this isn't really a business then."
Zik took a cautious sip, then another. Color began returning to his scales.
"What is this?"
"Marrow elixir," Lian said. "Helps with bone regeneration."
"Tastes terrible."
"Good medicine usually does."
"How do you know so much about healing?" Zik asked. "For a bartender, I mean."
Lian shrugged.
"I had another life. Before this one. Learned things there that turned out useful here."
"Were you a healer?"
"No. Just... someone who paid attention in boring classes."
The Boss chuckled.
"Knowledge is rarely useless. It's just waiting for the right moment."
"Deep philosophy coming from the guy who kills people for a living," the goblin commented.
"I kill adventurers," the Boss corrected. "Not people."
"What's the difference?"
"People listen when you talk. Adventurers only hear the sound of their own glory."
Zik let out a small laugh, then winced at the pain it caused.
"Easy," Lian warned. "You're still healing."
"How long...?"
"Days. Maybe a week for the arm. The other wounds, less time."
"Can I stay here?"
The question hung in the air.
Lian looked around. At his customers. His bar. His... responsibility.
"I don't know if it's safe," he said honestly. "This place is a secret. If too many people know..."
"I won't tell anyone," Zik said quickly. "I swear. It's just... I have nowhere else to go. My nest was destroyed in today's raid. My squad is dead. I'm..."
His voice broke.
"I'm alone."
Silence.
Then Lyra wrote:
You're not alone. Not here.
The goblin nodded.
"The weird one's right. You're already here. Might as well stay."
"The back room has space," the Boss added. "And someone needs to keep the slime company."
As if responding, the slime bounced in from the back room and settled next to Zik, pulsing warmly.
Lian looked at the young kobold. At his hopeful eyes. At his wounds that were only beginning to heal.
"Okay," he said finally. "You can stay. But only until you're healed. And you have to follow the rules."
"Rules?"
"Rule one: what happens at the bar, stays at the bar. You don't tell anyone about this place."
"Promise."
"Rule two: everyone cleans up their own mess."
"I can do that."
"Rule three: whoever you are outside, it doesn't matter here. No ranks. No hierarchies. Just... people."
Zik nodded slowly.
"I understand."
"Good. Welcome to After Hours."
"After Hours?"
"The bar's name," Lian said. "Well, my name for it anyway. Officially it's still just 'Guild Rest Area Number Three.'"
"That's a terrible name."
"That's why I use mine."
The goblin raised his glass.
"To After Hours. And to the lost who find their way here."
The others raised their drinks.
Even Zik, with his good arm.
"To After Hours," they repeated.
They drank together, a motley group united by circumstance and something more.
Something none of them would name yet.
But they all felt it.
---
The rest of the night passed peacefully.
The marauding adventurers never appeared. Whether they left or never planned to come in the first place, Lian didn't know.
And he found he didn't care.
He was too busy making sure Zik was comfortable, that his bandages were clean, that his arm was elevated properly.
Too busy being what he never thought he'd be:
A healer.
A protector.
A guardian of the broken.
When closing time finally came, Zik was already asleep in the back room, the slime curled up next to him like a strange bedmate.
The others said their goodbyes as always.
The goblin with a nod.
The Boss with a comment about tomorrow.
Lyra with a written note:
You did the right thing today.
Lian smiled.
"Thanks."
When they left, he was alone in the bar.
He looked at his hands. They no longer trembled.
The blood had been washed away long ago.
But the memory remained.
Not of the violence.
But of the choice.
The choice to help.
The choice to risk.
The choice to see beyond the labels and the categories and all the lines people draw.
In his previous life, Lian had been a shadow. Existing but not living. Present but not participating.
Here, in this strange bar, in this stranger world...
Here, he finally mattered.
Not because he was special.
Not because he had power.
But because he chose to matter.
And maybe, he thought as he turned off the lamps one by one, that was enough.
---