As the four of them pushed through the ornate doors of the bar, Yukolk looked up from wiping down the counter.
"Welcome back," the bartender called out. His welcoming expression quickly shifted as he read the heavy atmosphere hanging over the group. "Did something happen? You don't look beaten down, but you're certainly not in your usual moods."
Azid let out a long, dramatic sigh. He trudged over to the bar, hopped onto a tall stool, and unceremoniously dropped his forehead flat against the polished wood. "I'm just so bored, Yukolk. It's been nothing but fighting the exact same demons over and over again," he complained, his voice muffled against the bartop.
Used to the demon's extreme tolerances by now, Yukolk wordlessly reached under the counter and set a full bottle of pure grain alcohol right next to Azid's head. "Hmm, I can see why that would affect you," the bartender mused, shifting his gaze toward the remaining trio. "But why are the rest of you like that?"
Mark forced a casual posture, taking a seat on the stool right next to the sulking demon. "You know how it is," he lied smoothly, gratefully accepting the drink Yukolk slid his way. "Azid's the life of the group. He's the one who always keeps the mood up. So, with him feeling down, we're all down."
Hoshikang offered a thin smile as he stepped past the bar and slid into one of the empty booths. "I agree. The morale of our team has been heavily dependent on him," he added, playing right into Mark's words. "Just ignore Yuna stuttering more than ever."
Yuna's face instantly flushed a deep, embarrassed red at being called out. "I-I-I don't stutter more now! I stutter j-just as much as I normally do!" she sputtered, failing miserably to defend herself as she awkwardly took a seat on the furthest stool at the end of the bar.
Throughout the entire exchange, Azid had simply tilted his head up, brought the bottle of pure alcohol to his lips, and drained the harsh liquid in a few heavy, continuous gulps.
He slammed the empty glass bottle down on the counter with a loud thud and wiped his mouth, giving his teammates a deadpan stare. "So, now that you're all done praising me because you secretly think I might leave or do something worse just because I'm bored, can you stop walking on eggshells around me?"
The bar fell into a dead, uncomfortable silence. Yukolk glanced between the four of them, let out a slow sigh, and simply turned his back to methodically wipe down his liquor shelves. He definitely wasn't paid enough to mediate the group's internal drama.
"You could tell?" Mark asked, wincing slightly.
Azid offered a casual nod. "It's hard not to."
Hoshikang let out a heavy sigh from his booth. "We don't mean to treat you like that, Azid. But you can understand it, can't you? It's our first time working with someone like you. Even though we consider you a friend, we don't exactly know how you'll behave when you're bored."
Mark and Yuna both nodded in agreement.
"W-we don't want you to feel that we d-don't trust you," Yuna added from her far stool, nervously clutching her hands in her lap. "I-it's just... we're scared we m-might have to fight you i-if you tried to leave."
Azid just shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, don't worry, I don't blame you. It makes sense. But I'm not going to leave. I like you guys too much for that." He paused, his expression turning entirely serious. "It's just that I'll slowly wither away into nothing but dust if I stay this bored."
The other three immediately tensed, staring at him with wide-eyed shock and sudden panic.
"Are you serious? Is that how demons work?" Mark asked, leaning forward on his stool.
Azid shook his head. "Obviously not. I'm just messing with you," he replied, his tone perfectly, flatly deadpan.
The group visibly recoiled from the blunt joke, the lingering tension instantly deflating into collective annoyance.
"Anyways, what're we doing next? Maybe it'll be something fun," Azid said, smoothly moving on.
Hoshikang opened his mouth to answer, but before the monk could speak, the heavy, ornate wooden doors to the tavern swung open with a loud creak.
"By Michael, you haven't changed one single bit," an unfamiliar voice echoed through the room.
Azid snapped his head toward the entrance, twisting around on his stool with the sudden, sharp reflexes of a startled cat. The others quickly followed his gaze. Standing in the doorway was a man who looked strikingly similar to Azid in both facial features and build, yet carried glaringly obvious differences. Instead of Azid's blue skin, this man's skin was red. His eyes were an unnaturally dark crimson rather than pale blue, and two small, sharp horns curved backward from his skull where Azid had none.
"Drimus?" Azid called out, genuine surprise bleeding into his voice.
The red-skinned demon offered a small, knowing smile. "Hello, little brother."