Kirishima picked up the glass of iced liquor the trembling bartender pushed toward him. The ice clinked against the glass, the crisp sound particularly grating in the deathly silent tavern.
"There are plenty of familiar faces here. Don't make the atmosphere too tense." He relaxed, but the entire tavern sank into an even deeper hell.
Drink? Who could think about drinking now? That glass of cloudy ale seemed as scalding as lava.
Everyone fidgeted, as though they were sitting on beds of needles rather than wooden stools.
Not drink? Just sit there? That would only make their fear look more obvious and deliberate.
Run? The thought circled through countless minds, but who dared be the first to stand up?
If the Demon King took it as "disrespect" or "fleeing out of guilt," the consequences...
So everyone could only stiffly maintain their original poses, like puppets frozen by a spell.
Swallowing and the faint rustling of clothing became the only sounds.
Behind the bar, the elderly bartender's hands shook as though he had Parkinson's.
He stared fixedly at the gold bars embedded in the counter, then looked at the ordinary drink in the Demon King's hand. Sweat soaked his greasy apron.
Mix a drink for the Demon King? He felt as though every drop he mixed could spell his doom!
Enel stood behind and to one side of Kirishima's chair like a loyal guard, looking at the patrons who were silent as the grave, not even daring to breathe loudly.
Then he looked at his captain's harmless, even somewhat languid demeanor. The enormous disconnect nearly crashed his brain.
When the captain wasn't fighting, he really... wasn't all that intimidating, was he?
*Why were these Blue Sea people so frightened? Did the captain have another, even more savage reputation down in the