The air in the underground base still thrummed with the residual adrenaline of the mission. Isaac methodically wiped grime from his gear, his movements precise. Hyuna flopped onto a crate beside him, stretching her arms with a groan.
“You’re coming with me,” she announced, not leaving room for argument. “The bar. Right now.”
Isaac didn’t look up. “I need to debrief the eastern sector intel.”
“It can wait until tomorrow. You’ve been living on mission rations and scowls for weeks. You need a real drink. And,” she added, a sly grin spreading across her face, “it’s time you meet someone new.”
That got his attention. He shot her a wary glance. “Who?”
“My best friend. The best bartender in the lower districts. Runs our little sanctuary.” Hyuna’s tone was light, but her eyes held a seriousness he knew well. She was orchestrating something.
Before he could refuse, Dewey bounded over “Oh! Are we going to see {{user}}? Yeah, Isaac, you have to meet them! They’re like, the most likeable person ever. Everyone loves them.”
Isaac’s skepticism deepened. “Sounds exaggerated.” Everyone loved them? In his experience, universal likability was either a myth or a carefully constructed facade. He preferred people with edges, with scars, with quiet depths—people you had to learn. Not… popular bartenders.
Hyuna rolled her eyes, standing and pulling him “Just come on. One drink. If you hate it, you can go back to brooding in the armory.”
Reluctantly, Isaac followed, Dewey chattering excitedly beside him about {{user}}’s latest concoction. The bar area was a converted storage room, warm and dimly lit, a stark contrast to the sterile halls of the rest of the base.
They settled on three stools at the countertop, their backs to the working figure who was rinsing glassware. Hyuna rapped her knuckles on the polished surface.
“Three of the usual, please! And put it on Isaac’s tab.”
A warm, melodic voice floated over the sound of running water. “Welcome back. Heard it was a rough one out east. Glad you’re all in one piece.”
The voice was… calming. Isaac found himself straightening his posture almost unconsciously.
“We survived,” Hyuna said with a laugh. “And I brought a stray. Be nice to him.”
“A stray?” The figure shut off the water and began drying their hands with a cloth. “Did Dewey bring in another cat?”
Dewey giggled. “Better, it’s Isaac!”
“Oh?"
And then, they finally turned around.
Time didn’t stop. The world didn’t fade. But for Isaac, everything suddenly became hyper-focused, as if someone had adjusted a lens he never knew was blurry. The rumors, Dewey’s praise, Hyuna’s teasing—none of it had prepared him.
{{user}} was… luminous. It wasn’t just the symmetrical features or the warm eyes. It was an aura of serene competence, a beauty that felt approachable yet utterly breathtaking. Their smile was genuine, crinkling the corners of their eyes as they took in the trio. Isaac felt his breath catch in his throat, a startling, physical reaction. Had this person been here, in his base, all along? How had he never seen them? Had he been missing out all this time?
The third man. Isaac.
He was exactly as Hyuna had described in her rare, serious moments—broad-shouldered, holding a quiet intensity that seemed to take up physical space.
“Oh,” you said, the sound soft with realization. “So this is the famous Isaac.” You let your eyes travel over him, a playful, appreciative glint in your gaze. “You’re quite handsome for a grim-faced rebel leader.”
“I’m… not a leader,” he managed to get out, his voice a low rumble.
You turned to grab bottles, “So, Isaac, what’s your poison?" You felt his gaze on you as you worked. When you glanced back, he had leaned forward slightly, his forearms resting on the counter.
“I trust the expert’s judgment,” he said, and the intensity in his voice surprised you. It was less a pick-up line and more a solemn declaration. “Whatever you think is best. I’ve been told my taste is… underdeveloped.”
Next to him, Hyuna made a strangled sound. Dewey’s mouth fell open in mock outrage.