Dimensions Collide: Destiny Bond

Chapter 1: A Story Written for Me

“Oi, bartender!”

“Yeah?”

“Another beer!”

“...how are you not broke yet? Do you really still have money?”

The bartender sighed over the sounds of clinking silver and turned to fill a glass mug. Golden liquid flowed from a barrel into the cup, a thick layer of foam frothing at the top as the bartender turned to slide the drink down the table to the happily waiting customer.

The small bar was warm and cozy, filled with the smell of alcohol, peanuts, and the occasional whiff of cigar smoke. The few patrons inside chatted quietly, resulting in a low hum of noise, pierced occasionally by the clinking of coins, an occasional shout, or the slamming of fists onto table.

“You guys should really calm down with the drinks. Ever hear of an addiction?”

The man laughed heartily, downing the beer in a single gulp. “It’s not an addiction! It’s a dedication! And I’m dedicated as hell!”

The bartender just sighed.

“Besides, what does a young scrap like you know about dying?” the man continued, wiping his mouth. “You’ve got all the time in the world ahead of you!”

The bartender nodded slowly, wiping a glass down. “Fair enough.”

There was only one bartender in this bar. No waiters. No servers. Just the bartender. John. No one knew where he came from. No one knew who he was. There were rumours, as there always would be, but no one could confirm or deny anything, so the rumours would only continue to spread.

His bar, The Lucky Myth, was just as mysterious as he was. It’d opened a few years back with no indication that there’d been plans to open a bar in the first place. There was no opening ceremony. No advertising. It was only mildly popular because of word of mouth. People didn’t talk about the alcohol, though. The menu was small, and even that was incredibly ordinary. What people came for was the bartender himself.

His outfit was just as unusual as he was. The patrons saw him in the same outfit every day, without fail: a red t-shirt underneath what people assumed to be a short cloak, but the cloak was strange. It had long sleeves and a mechanism that allowed it to zip up when needed, and the hood wasn’t nearly as large as most cloaks' hoods. A red scarf wound around his neck regardless of the temperature, his legs were adorned with black pants and red shoes made of a material no one knew about. On the back of his hoodie was a strange symbol painted in red that many had asked about, but no one had ever received an answer as to what it was.

Despite everything, his looks were completely average. He was of average height, if not a little on the tall side, with messy black hair and an average build. The only remotely unique aspect of his face were his eyes. His right eye was black, but it wasn’t a normal black. The entire iris was pitch black, with no indication of any colour at all. The other eyes was a bright red, as if he were an albino or something.

For such a secretive man, he himself was rather pleasant. He was neither comedian nor the embodiment of kindness, but he was readily available to talk or listen. He always lent a ready ear, listening to the troubles of drunken husbands, troubled lovers, stressed workers, and was ready to provide advice when needed. The advice wasn’t always the most sound, but it wasn’t like people were expecting a bartender to be a therapist or psychologist.

One of the customers called out, beckoning the bartender over. “Oi, did you hear?”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“There’s a demon in town, apparently. It’s just a rumour, but there’s this small girl who begs. She’s, what, five, six, I don’t know, but… I’ve heard she can kill you with a single touch. Maybe she’s a demon who disguises herself as a little girl to lure people in.”

John snorted. “If this demon is luring people in by disguising itself as a little girl, maybe we should leave it alone, you know?”

The regular laughed. “You’ve got a point. Anyway.” He flipped John a coin as a tip, let out a loud belch, and got up to leave. “Just stay safe, alright? I’ve heard you lack a mana core. I’d hate to see this place vanish, you know?”

John scoffed. “Yeah, right. Get outta here, you drunk bastard.”

The bar grew quieter and quieter as the hour grew later. John began to wipe down the any empty tables, beginning the cleanup process before the bar was even closed.

This was another unique aspect of the bar: it closed relatively early. Stereotypically, a bar such as this would be open till the early hours of the morning, but this one closed exactly at midnight and reopened back at noon. No one complained about the hours, though. After all, it wasn’t like John was begging for business. Anyone who didn’t like it could just leave.

“Have a good one,” a red headed adventurer nodded, carrying his drunken partner out the door.

Finally, the bar was quiet.

“Ah. Another day wasted,” John sighed, leaning on the freshly wiped counter.

As soon as everyone left, the smile on his face dropped into a mask of neutrality. He didn’t exactly dislike his current job. It was nice. The customers were usually kind and entertaining, the atmosphere was warm, and the pay was decent, but it wasn’t what he was looking for. He closed his eyes, taking in the silence for a bit before a voice came and interrupted his moment of rest.

“You’d get more done by going out and walking around blindly. Can you remind me again why you’re here?”

“Ah, shut the fuck up, Zero. Weren’t you the one who suggested this?”

“Maybe I tricked you.”

A figure emerged from John’s body as if his spirit were leaving him. In fact, it would’ve looked like that to any onlooker passing by. A shadowy, see through version of John floated out of his body, laying down on a bed of air.

John wasn’t amused. “That’s not what you did, and we both know it.”

“You’re less and less fun these days.”

“I’m actually just getting more and more tired.”

“You’re always tired. That’s why you never get anything done.”

“I’d get more done if a certain someone helped me out.”

“It’s a lot more interesting to see what you’d do on your own, though.”

John ignored his companion and looked out the window. It was raining, but he’d learned something interesting today. Something worth looking into.

“A demon child, huh…? What are the odds that’s the [Protagonist]?”

Zero shrugged, floating upside down. He was clearly unconcerned. “You know what I’d say about that.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Go out there and figure it out yourself.”

John sighed and wound his scarf around his face to keep it warm, then packed some food and water. There was no way of knowing what he’d come across. After a moment’s thought, he ran upstairs and came back down with a large white cloak, then flipped his hood over his head as he left the bar, the bell over the door giving him a friendly jingle goodbye.

The air was damp and cool, certain to give anyone who stayed out too long a chill. The late April weather was surprisingly cool. Despite this, he didn’t appeared to be affected as he wiped at his eyes, then looked left and right. The street lanterns cast their orange glow down the cobble streets, the puddles of water reflecting the dark sky above.

Heading down the dimly lit streets, John’s eyes flickered back and forth the rain obscured his vision. Navigating the streets with ease, he turned into alley after alley, looking for what he imagined to be a child like figure. However, one does not find what they are looking for by wandering aimlessly.

“Hey, Zero, could you at least point me in the right direction? Or are you just gonna sit back and watch me run around like an idiot?”

Zero didn’t appear as he’d done before, but he’d clearly given John directions, because John began to move with more purpose and intent. Turn after turn was taken, but this time, he was going somewhere. As he began to approach his destination, the sounds of two men arguing could be heard over the sound of the pouring rain.

“Hey! What’s going on over there?” he called out, wiping his face to see two men standing with bottles in hand. The way they swayed on their feet, paired with the rosy tint of their cheeks, made it clear. These two were drunk. John was about to grab their shoulders and tell them to go home, but then something else caught his attention.

At their feet was a small child with dirty white hair and rags for a dress, cowering at their feet. Something was going on.

“Hey, hey, what the fuck?” he muttered, grabbing the men by the shoulders. “What the hell is going on here?”

“Demon slayers! That’s us!” one man roared, waving a large knife. “We’ll be the prophecied hero! Riches and fame beyond measure!”

“Yes! Slay the demon!” the other man yelled, then fell over, completely wasted. It would’ve been comedic had it not been so pitifully disgusting.

“You two are clearly drunk. Why don’t you get the fuck out of here before you get arrested for public indecency or something?” John said, getting more and more annoyed by the second.

“Huh?” the first man said drunkenly, turning around to look John in the eyes. “You a demon, too?”

He swung and missed, and that was the breaking point for John. With a swift blow, he knocked the man’s head back, then kicked the knife out of his hand, sending it skittering away. Without hesitation, he grabbed onto the man’s collar and pulled him close, grabbing his head and smashing it into his knee. The man crumpled to the ground like a piece of paper.

“You little-!” his companion yelled, getting up and charging John. The bartender just sidestepped and tripped the man, sending him face first into the ground. Both of them moaned as they struggled to get back up, but the alcohol wasn’t doing them any favours.

“Seriously… what were they thinking?” John sighed, dusting his hands off, only to remember that they were wet from the rain. There was no dust to be had.

Suddenly, he remembered the reason he was here. It wasn’t to beat up random men in the streets. Right. He’d been looking for something. Jogging back to the alleyway, he found the girl still cowering in fear. How could he diffuse the situation? Right, hands up in the air. That would mean he had no weapon, right?

“Hey, hey, I’m harmless. I… uh… I’m not gonna hurt you, ok?”

John internally cursed himself for not having prepared an introduction in advance. His appearance must’ve been menacing too. The scarf covering his mouth and the hood over his head made it so that the only visible features on his face were his eyes. He couldn’t change what’d already happened, though. He just had to keep going.

“Are you ok?” he asked, pulling down his scarf to reveal his face. “Do you have someone to take care of you?”

He waited for a moment, but the girl didn’t respond. John felt a little awkward. Was she going to say anything? Maybe demon children didn’t know how to speak. That is, if she really was a demon in the first place. John had no way or knowing. With a shrug, he slipped his bag off his back and pulled out the cloak.

“Bit chilly with the rain, isn’t it? Wrap yourself with that. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s apparently imbued with magic, so it should keep you warm. Not sure why I bought this, actually. Well, it’s coming in handy now, isn’t it?”

To his relief, the girl took the cloak and put it on. Immediately, her body seemed to relax just a bit, and some of her shivering went away. Seeing this sent a surge of annoyance through John. Was the city he was in such a place that children were on the streets like this? It wasn’t unreasonable for slums to exist, but he’d seen no other beggars or orphans on the streets. Why her?

At that point, it occurred to him that he still had no idea what the child’s name was, or if she had a name at all. Right. That was important.

“Uh… do you have a name? Something like that? Anything I can call you?”

There was a bit of a pause, but at this point, John would’ve been perfectly fine with silence. The girl was probably mute or something. The rain continued to pour, but that didn’t bother either of them. Eventually, the girl gave in.

“I… I’m Prota.” The girl’s voice was quiet, soft, and completely monotone. Despite her shaking, her voice contained no traces of fear or pain. John would’ve noticed how strange her voice was had he not been distracted by something else.

Prota. That name. Something seemed off about it. Prota… protagonist? Surely this wasn’t a coincidence. No. There was no way it was this easy. He was a step closer. It wasn’t much, but it was infinitely more than he’d had before. A [Protagonist], right in front of his eyes. The [Author] wasn’t even trying to hide it. Really? It’d been this simple all along? The stupidity of the situation was absurd, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

It didn’t last long, though. As he quieted down, John took a closer look at the child. She was thin, dangerously so, and she seemed afraid, save for a small, almost unnoticeable smile on her face. Somehow, despite her completely neutral expression otherwise, that small smile seemed to light up her face.

Something in John’s empty heart ached.

“No,” John muttered. “You said you wouldn’t. Remember. You’re not here for a friend. You’re here to investigate.”

With a bit of effort, John knelt down and smiled warmly.

“Nice to meet you, Prota. You can call me John.”

He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a bottle of water and a bag of something. He tossed both over to Prota, but she didn’t catch them. She just watched as they hit her and bounced off softly. John flinched, afraid that he’d hurt her or something, but she just continued to stare at the packages as they rolled around on the ground.

“Uh… that’s food and water. Are you not hungry? If not, you can just leave it there, I’ll…”

Prota stared at the two things in front of her, blinking multiple times to make sure they were real. She reached out slowly, keeping eye contact with John, just to make sure he wasn’t setting her up for anything, then quickly grabbed the food and drink and greedily tore them open. The instant the jerky entered her mouth, it began salivating like a river.

“Hey, slow down. You’re gonna get a stomach ache.” John frowned as he watched the girl eat.

Prota must’ve been deaf to all but the call of her stomach, because there were no signs of her slowing down. In no time at all, the bag was empty, the bottle of water drained. John squatted down, stirring a small puddle of water with his finger, waiting for something to happen. He looked back up at the girl, who was still shaking a bit, but it was noticeably less. Was it out of fear? Was it the cold? John really couldn’t tell. He really hoped it wasn’t out of fear, but shaking from the cold wasn’t all that great either. Well, he could do something about the latter.

“You look kinda cold,” John offered after a long silence, hoping he’d guessed right. “Do you want to come and warm up by a fire? You look like you could use a bed and a hot meal, too.”

The girl looked up again, this time a bit of suspicion in her eyes, but she got up and stood, waiting for John to do something. Now that she was standing, John could see a few things. For one, Prota was so thin that her ribs were showing through the thin, torn cloth that covered her body. Her face was thin and dirty, her hair streaked with mud and grease. But that wasn’t the thing that shocked John the most.

It was her expression.

Despite the fact that the girl was still shaking, her face was blank. There was no hint of sadness, anger, joy, or peace in any part of her face. There was no light in her eyes, none at all, just… a void. He thought back to her voice and realized that it matched her face completely. She was like a porcelain doll, if a porcelain doll had been tossed into the mud and dirtied up. Unchanging. Lifeless. Cold and empty.

Something resonated within John’s soul when he saw that face. He wasn’t quite sure what it was. But it seemed so familiar…

At that moment, something in his mind snapped. This wasn’t just an investigation anymore. This girl was someone who needed help. Even if she left the very next day, he had to at least give her a meal and a bed for just one night. It didn’t seem like anyone else would do it. But why? What was the point in letting this girl suffer?

“Dammit. I didn’t think something like this would happen,” he cursed silently to himself. “Why here? Why now? Why her?”

Zero’s voice echoed in his head. “Hm. That’s a pretty cliche line if I’ve ever heard one. Well, no matter how good of a [Reader] you are, the [Plot] is never entirely predictable. There’s always going to be a twist you don’t expect.”

“Shut up,” John muttered.

Now distracted, he had no thought to try and drop the need to care for this girl. He didn’t know what it was, but there was something inside him that said that he wouldn’t regret it. John tried to find a reason to this alien feeling. He couldn’t.

The noise of a small splash brought John back to attention. The reason why could wait. Right now, getting out of the rain was a priority. He extended his hand as an afterthought, but to his surprise, Prota shrunk back, as if afraid to be touched. John frowned in confusion, but then shrugged. If she didn’t want to hold his hand, that was all right.

“Come on,” John said, heading out back towards the bar.

The two set out at a brisk pace, but John quickly learned that that was a mistake. Prota tripped and fell after less than a minute but got back up with no complaint. There wasn’t even a hint of agony on her face, which surprised John, but he ignored it for the time being. It seemed that with her frail body, she was having a hard time keeping up, so John slowed down to compensate.

Even with that, they still had to stop to take frequent breaks. John sorely wanted to just pick her up and carry her all the way back, but every time he got close, despite her fatigue, Prota would shrink back in fear. In the end, though, they made their way back to the bar, and John opened the door for Prota, letting her in.

“Come on, this way,” he said, heading behind the counter and opening another door that revealed a flight of stairs to a second floor. Prota obediently went up, leaving puddles of muddy water everywhere.

“Gonna have to clean that up later,” Zero reminded John.

“I know,” John grumbled.

The second floor was small but cosy. A medium sized bed sat underneath a window, moonlight streaming in and lighting up a fluffy carpet that sat in the center of the room. A small stove and table sat in another corner, two chairs neatly tucked in, cabinets lined above. Evidently, the place was meant for only one person to live in. Across from the stove sat a large sofa, its cushions so fluffy and large one could practically imagine sinking into them without even touching the sofa itself. A small wardrobe sat at the foot of the bed, drawers at the bottom, completing the room.

“Over here,” John said, opening a door and revealing a small washroom. There was a large tub with a magical tap that relied on water runes to deliver flowing water.

“Wash up, and you can sleep in the bed later. I… uh… don’t really have any clothes that can fit you, but…”

John walked over to the wardrobe and opened the door just a crack, rummaging around. Prota took a peek and was confused. The wardrobe appeared to be empty. That couldn’t have been true, though, as John emerged with a small nightgown, one that was still way too large for Prota, but it would have to do. Had she stopped to think about it, she would’ve wondered why he had something like this in the first place.

“Look. This is, uh, probably really awkward, but try to calm down, ok? You might have your reasons for having your guard up, but I’m not going to try anything. Just clean up. Relax. This is a safe place.”

Once again, the girl just stared at him, making him feel incredibly awkward, but after a bit, she nodded. Immediately afterwards, she walked into the washroom and closed the door, just in time to miss something.

“So you do have a heart,” Zero grinned, popping out. “I was beginning to wonder if you were secretly a machine.”

“You can shut it,” John sighed, peeling his wet clothes off. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with… this. So either be helpful or piss off.”

“You got it.”

Zero vanished, leaving John alone to stare at the bathroom door Prota had gone through. What was he supposed to do with this?

He didn’t know.