The Loser | by Isaac7525

When the weak-bodied bartender eventually regained consciousness, his blue eyes opened, only to be greeted by Aizawa and Olivia, who looked at him with skeptical looks. In a panic, he tried to move his arms, but the thick bindings sealing him to the leg of the boss's desk prevented much mobility. He looked back at the thick ropes, his eyes widening slightly in inscrutable panic, he refused to let surface around the duo. 

Aizawa was the first one to speak. He took an authoritative step forward, placing one of his boots in front of the area of the floor closest to the bartender, as if silently threatening to step on his chest. 

"What is this?" He asked, gesturing for Olivia to give him the vial. 

The woman nodded her head. Her face was still slightly pale from the encounter, but they had covered the corpse of the naked boss with his clothing to prevent visible distress from any of them in the room. Olivia tossed the vial to Aizawa, who swiftly caught it. 

He rolled the small object between his thumb and forefinger for a few moments, silently observing the dark-colored liquid sloshing inside. His crimson eyes flickered as he gazed back at the bartender. Aizawa then repeated his question. 

"What is this? 

He took another step forward, pressing a little body weight into his boot, causing the floor tile underneath it to creak eerily. The sound was reminiscent of a ghoul screaming in pain. 

He held up the vial to the bartender, his hand inches from the man's pale and freckled face. The bartender remained silent, his bottom lip quivering as he stared into the vial, observing the dark colored liquid sloshing around slowly as Aizawa continued his ministrations on the bottle. 

"I don't know what that is," he choked out. The entire time, he was slowly moving his body back and forth in an attempt to wriggle himself loose from the bindings obscuring his hands. 

"Are you sure? We found it in an old ladies food," Aizawa recalled the dinner they had earlier that night. 

Upon hearing that, the red-haired man's eyes narrowed slightly as he gazed into the bottle with more conspicuous attention. His lips parted slightly, but he looked like he wasn't willing to talk just yet. 

"Looks like the packing of our spices. Every Monday the agricultural facility ships us spices to help with our dishes."

He looked up at Aizawa, his freckled features extruding with tangible innocence. Aizawa cocked his head slightly as his boot dug more into the floor tile. "Mind showing us to the room where you keep them?"

"W-will you undo my bindings?" The bartender asked sheepishly, looking back to the ropes sealing his hands once more. 

"Yes, we will," Aizawa replied, bending down. He worked with an almost mechanical precision as he undid the ropes in a matter of seconds. Once the man felt the pressure coiling tight around his wrists fall slack, the sound of the ropes hitting the wooden floor, he stood up and held his wrists with either of his hands. 

Both of his wrists had red marking stretching across them, and a bruise had already begun to form. 

"Thank you," he looked up at Aizawa, offering the man an innocent smile, attempting to deter any malevolent feelings from the dark-haired man. 

At that moment, Aizawa looked back to Olivia, gesturing towards the corpse on the ground which was covered by the clothing. "Watch him until we come back, then we'll escort him to the proper authorities."

Olivia nodded, looking back to the heap of suits and ties on the flor, gulping down her Adam's apple. 

Aizawa was led behind the bar, entering the kitchen area. The moment he stepped in, he was immediately greeted by the overwhelming sensations of smell and heat brushing against his skin and nostrils. When he sniffed the air around him, Aizawa immediately smelled numerous stews and broths brewing in corresponding stoves. 

On the far end of the kitchen area, which was partially obscured by an excessive amount of steam, Aizawa spotted the pots and pans at work with frying and treating to the dishes and other meals.

In other areas of the kitchen, he spotted numerous chefs at work. Most of them bore tired expressions, their eyes almost dropping shut as they stirred and fried numerous ingredients together in pots and pans. One of them, a young woman and hair sealed behind a net. Almost fell asleep, slumping forward into a plate of mashed potatoes. 

"Shouldn't they be at home?" Aizawa inquired, gazing upon the numerous cooks with a partially sympathetic expression. 

"About that…" The bartender trailed off, opening a cabinet overhead. Inside Aizawa could see countless small vials filled with multicolored spices. Some of them ranged in colors and flavors, but the overall theme of them was they were all dark colored. 

"We cook for the homeless of the kingdom, something the government doesn't really do much to treat in the first place," The red-haired bartender with a face sprinkled with freckles took out a large collection of the spices, lining them onto the counter in a neat row. 

Aizawa bent down, taking a small moment to observe the spices. The entire time, he was continually rolling the dark-colored liquid between his thumb and forefinger. He then held up the bottle and placed it beside the others, measuring it as a pillar of reference. 

"This one is bigger…" Aizawa commented, bending down even further and gazing at the numerous vials lined up in a row. The dark colored liquid was noticeably taller than the others in the row, but the only other noticeable difference was its lack of label. 

"Why'd you take it in if you knew it didn't have a label?" Aizawa then turned to the bartender, raising an eyebrow. 

"Some of our samples are left unidentified, but the Seraphis Agricultural Facility deems them all safe to consume atop of food," He replied, his smile twitching around the edges. 

"But…this isn't a spice, it's a liquid," Aizawa grasped the bottle, sloshing it around again in front of the bartender. 

The bartender gulped, reaching towards another cabinet beside the other one. "We also receive wine samples from the agricultural facility too."

He opened the cabinet, allowing the man a clear view of the other bottles of wine. They were all larger bottles, reminiscent of the one inside the boss's office. Aizawa looked down at the vials of liquid for a few more moments before scoffing. 

"Please, you receive samples that could barely taste on the tongue? Why get stuff like this when you have all of that in a cabinet?" Aizawa silently lampooned. 

"Earleir we saw that your bosses wine was patented by an asylum, do these come from similar places?"

Upon hearing his question, the bartender let out a shaky sigh. His lips twitched downwards into a frown. "Did he mention the underground market by chance?"

Aizawa nodded. "Yes."

The bartender suddenly let out a shaky whine. "Damnit, the boss has been acting so weird before he…just died like that."

"What do you mean?" Aizawa suddenly felt a rush of curiosity. 

The bartender adjusted his bowtie before explaining. "About a month ago he was a grumpy geezer, always bossin' us around and stuff. After he came back from a little night out with his wife, he entered this bar acting like he'd been given a dose of sunshine."

He continued to fiddle with his bowtie the longer he explained. "Shortly after, we all saw raises in our paychecks, but the boss made us work longer shifts…"

The red-haired man pointed down the line of busy cooks. "As you see right now."

Aizawa took a moment of observing the cooks, noticing the way they sluggishly moved along with their duties and responsibilities. Some of them lethargically cleaned dishes of grease and residual food, while others diced up potatoes and carrots to add to a concoction boiling beside them on the stove. 

"Have you ever talked to your boss beforehand?" Aizawa asked, turning back to the bartender. 

The man with icy-blue eyes shivered as if recalling some distant yet horrifying memory. "I-i have in the past, yes."

He looked away, facing the rows of bottles on the counter. "I was one of the lousiest cooks in the entire restaurant. Due to the amount of negative reviews on this place, he didn't hesitate to give me a beating and reposition me elsewhere in this establishment."

"Why not fire you?" Aizawa cocked an eyebrow. 

"M-my boss always said that "nobody is completely worthless, but everyone's trash continues to stink, even after being thrown out."

Hearing these words, Aizawa sighed softly. "Sounds like he never thinks anyone is truly beyond redemption. If he thought that, he would have surely fired you. But instead, he decided you were good behind a counter scrubbing drinks and serving people."

"Y-yeah…maybe he just wanted to see me," the bartender's face flushed slightly, as his shoulders stiffened with an accompanying, self-depricating chuckle. 

Suddenly, they heard a scream echo within the kitchen. The young woman who had almost fallen asleep earlier let out a yell as she fell back onto the floor. When the duo turned their heads, they both noticed the predicament. She had spilled some of the stew on herself, scolding her face with blood-red welts. 

"Oh my god!" The bartender rushed over, shoving aside a cook and helping her onto her feet. The entire time, her hands remained clasped over her face, tears burning down her cheeks as she cried out in pain. 

"Medic!" He cried out, quickly surveying the kitchen. Nobody moved from their positions; it was like watching zombies handle culinary devices and food before their very eyes. 

"Medic!" He shouted again, his movements and handling slowly growing more frantic. Nobody moved a second time. 

"Damn it!" He gritted out, bursting open the door leading from the kitchen and running across the main section of the bar. Aizawa followed him out into the cold weather. Without hesitation, he lowered the woman's head into the freezing snow. 

"Don't!"Aizawa cautioned, taking a hold of the woman. "Snow can negatively affect the burn."

"W-what do we do?" The bartender gazed at the woman, his expression filled with palpable worry. 

…

In the bathroom, Aizawa ran some cool water under a towel, before applying it to the woman's face. She let out a low wince when it made contact, but she quickly stopped whimpering after a few seconds. 

"She's obviously very tired," Aizawa noted, looking down at her form with concern. 

"Jackshit, I still wonder why our boss makes us work so late," The bartender grumbled. 

"Y'got a name?" Aizawa looked towards him. 

"Leo," he replied. 

Hearing the name, Aizawa rolled it on his tongue for a few moments. "Alright."

He looked back at the woman, who had now fallen silent and was taking deep breaths. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah, I'll just need these injuries patched up and I'll be sent back to the kitchen in no time," she said with a smile. 

"Leo, are there any bandages nearby?" 

The red-haired man surveyed the surroundings for a brief moment. Ï belive our boss kept a first aid kit nearby."

Quickly opening the overhead cabinet, he scanned the objects inside. Among the numerous soups and miscellaneous objects you'd usually find inside a bathroom, he was able to locate a medical kit nested within a compartment in the back. After he quickly slid it out, he placed it on the bathroom floor. 

As he opened it, his eyes widened upon seeing the lack of bandages. Inside the medical kit were a wide spectrum of unorthodox items. Among them were a deck of hand painted cards with numerous house-hold objects, a small bell, a handheld journal with a lock lined with dark-green leather, and a small amount of candles including a lighter beside it. 

"What the…" he took out some of the items, including the bell and journal. 

"That's a first aid kit?" Aizawa belittled, gazing down at the leather case with bronze hinges. On the top of the case were letters inscribed within it. 

"A Gift to Sanson Cecilé."