"Hope to see you again next time, and have a safe trip~" The red-haired man offered a genuine smile to the woman before him, whose eyes held a trace of reluctance. "I truly hope to see such beauty again tomorrow."

"Ifrit, you really know how to flatter," the curvaceous woman purred. Slipping off her coat, she pressed close, wrapping him in a passionate hug and leaving a deep kiss mark on his neck. The mingled scent of strong liquor and perfume was spicy yet alluring. After a long moment, she reluctantly released him. "I’ll be back tomorrow—save the spot on your left thigh for me."

"Of course, Miss Monina," the red-haired man murmured, gently pulling her close and whispering by her ear, "We’ll welcome you again tomorrow."

Flushed, she brushed his hand away, draped the semi-sheer silk coat over her shoulders, and stepped slowly toward the door.

The moment she vanished, the red-haired man let out a quiet sigh of relief. He undid the top button of his collar and slumped wearily into the counter-side seat.

"You’ve earned this," said the white-clad man, approaching with a wine glass. Golden liquid shimmered under the lamplight. He set it down with a gesture. "Compliments of the boss lady."

"Yo-ho! My dear Ifrit and Bahamut~!" A girl in a sleek black leather outfit skipped over. The tailored cut accentuated her figure; a subtle chest slit revealed fair, graceful curves rivaling any succubus—but she seemed utterly unaware. Grinning, she waved exaggeratedly. "Thanks to you two, business is booming! Before, Black Bull Tavern next door made *ten times* our daily revenue. Now? Only *nine*! See the progress?"

"I wouldn’t call that pride-worthy…" The white-clad man sighed. "But thank you, boss lady, for taking us in."

"Oh, stop with the thanks!" The girl—who looked barely ten—stuck out her tongue. Maybe her heels pinched, or skipping hurt; she plopped onto the sofa, kicked off her shoes, and stood barefoot on the floor without a care. Striking a playful ballet pose, she chirped, "We’re family now! (Well… for now.)"

"Delete the parentheses!" the white-clad man groaned, hands on hips, peering down at the girl whose head barely reached his collar. "The bar struggled *because* you’ve always been so frivolous, boss lady."

"Eh~ What’s wrong with that?" Pouting, she leaped up, yanked his head into her cleavage, and—before he could blush—locked her arms around his neck, pressing his face firmly against soft skin. "Bahamut, you’ve been awfully fond of talking back to your boss lately!"

"Let go! Please!" He squirmed desperately. "I was wrong! I was wrong! Boss lady, release me—"

"Hmph." She chuckled, eyes crinkling. Releasing him, she tilted her chin up proudly. "Now you know who’s boss, right?"

"Tch. Brother." The red-haired man watched his flustered sibling dabbing his nose, then gave a dismissive thumbs-down. "So lame."

Bahamut waved him off silently, fetched a handkerchief, and dabbed the blood. He inhaled lightly—the girl’s faint, unique scent still lingered.

"By the way, Ifrit, Bahamut," the boss lady began, plopping onto the sofa and hugging her knees. She swung her smooth, petite feet playfully. "I never asked where you’re from. I found you huddled under the front-door tree like stray puppies and brought you in… only remembering to ask *now*." She tilted her head at their suddenly serious faces. "Bahamut, Ifrit… these names are uncommon. Distinctive. Are you from somewhere else?"

Ifrit lifted his glass silently, pretending to drink. He nudged his brother’s back. "Brother. She’s asking *you*."

Annoyed, Bahamut brushed the finger away, cleared his throat, and smiled. "Ah—we’re from a distant countryside. Family names passed down generations. Naturally uncommon, haha."

"Really?" Resting her chin on her knees, she wiggled her tiny toes, then nodded. "Well, I don’t get it… but you’ve adapted well. First time in Macedon, right?"

"Heh heh," Ifrit said proudly. "Not to brag, but if there’s one thing *I*, Ifrit, master—it’s charming women. I’ve been a pro since I was a de—"

"*Magician!*" Bahamut’s hand shot out, slapping Ifrit mid-word. He turned to the boss lady with a forced laugh. "We—we’ve seen magicians before!"

"Still…" She stuck her tongue out at Bahamut. "Is it okay to hit your little brother like that?"

"Don’t worry. His only virtue? Durability." Bahamut hauled Ifrit up with a chuckle. "See? Perfectly fine."

"Who’s *fine*?!" Ifrit protested, struggling. "It *hurts*!"

"You two…" The boss lady watched them, a soft smile curving her lips. "You have such a bond. I really wish I could keep you here forever."

Ifrit’s gaze drifted to Bahamut. Bahamut simply shrugged. "Don’t worry, boss lady. As *you* said—we’re family now."

She shook her head silently, released her knees, cupped her cheeks, and smiled faintly. "I just want to keep you here… even with special means. Even if only your bodies remain…"

They took an involuntary step back.

"Wait! Joke! Total joke! Don’t believe it!" She flailed her hands. "Boss is sorry! Boss is *so* sorry! As apology—Bahamut, you can do *anything* with me tonight—"

"Please take better care of yourself," Bahamut said gently. Wiping his brow, he dampened a handkerchief, then—white-gloved hand cradling her delicate foot—carefully wiped the floor’s dust away. "After all… you’re a young lady too."

"I’m… just a girl too…" Flustered, she covered her burning face, peeking through her fingers at his earnest focus. The faint tickle on her sole went unmentioned. Slowly lowering her hands, she gazed at him, eyes shimmering. "Bahamut… you might just be more charming than Ifrit?"

"*What?!*" Ifrit slammed the table. "I don’t believe it! Tomorrow—we compete! Who attracts more customers!"

"As if I’d play your game. Scram."

"Brotherrrrr———"

And so, the two officers of the Demon King marched ever deeper down the path of missing the point.