The Bar Name : Neon Dust

The heavy wooden door creaked open softly, letting in a breeze of cool air mixed with the faint, familiar scent of alcohol inside the bar known as Neon Dust. Blue and pink neon lights reflected off the spotless counter. The bar had just reopened—miraculously spared from permanent closure… or as some might say, "thanks to the unexpected soft heart of a certain scary-looking creditor."

The sharp clink of a metal shaker echoed through the quiet bar. Mr. Zc stood silently behind the counter, his piercing eyes focused on the clear glass in front of him. Every pour was precise, every movement deliberate. His expression was cold, unreadable—as if sculpted from ice. Even though he was fully aware of the presence at the bar, seated directly in his line of sight: J, with that annoyingly playful smile.

"What are you doing..." Zc murmured under his breath, barely audible, as his hands continued working like a true artist. A delicate layer of white foam from a freshly poured beer was applied with care, as if painting with liquid.

That table—the infamous front-row seat at the counter, long avoided by anyone who didn’t have the nerve to challenge Zc’s intense presence—was now occupied by none other than J, the sly, cat-mode creditor currently sipping a glass of water with an expression that said “I’ve got something to say, but I won’t say it yet.”

“So quiet, huh? First night back and everything.” J spoke softly, spinning the glass in his hand. “Aren’t you gonna say something to the guy who kept this place alive?”

Zc paused for only a fraction of a second, then slowly picked up a towel.

“I hate you,” he said plainly, without even looking at J.

J chuckled quietly, completely unfazed.

“I know... but you still let me help, didn’t you?” His teasing gaze met Zc’s. “Someone as cold as you... if you didn’t care even a little, you wouldn’t have let this place survive.”

Zc set the glass down firmly and met J’s eyes with an icy glare.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Someone like me... I just didn’t want this place to disappear. Because it belongs to all of us.”

He turned away, pointedly ignoring the smug grin growing on J’s face.

Just then, Jojo Pancake rushed in, clearly flustered.

“Table Two ordered a Summer Berry Sparkle! Uh... Mr. Zc...” Jojo set down the order slip and quickly retreated, as if feeling the emotional tension radiating from the bar counter.

Soft music began to play from the corner of the bar. Yippee, lively as ever, had taken over DJ duty.

“Let me hear you if you missed Neon Dust~ Woo!”

The mood lifted slightly—everywhere except the counter, where the air was still thick.

Near the entrance, Moland was checking IDs, occasionally sneaking glances at Snow, who was arranging a corner table and smiling sweetly at him from afar.

Amid the relaxed vibe of the reopening night, everything seemed… normal.

But between J and Zc— Nothing was ever truly normal.