Five surprising years passed—well, it's not a shocker for most companies, but with Pony Express, a negligent corporation, it is. You'd think they'd celebrate their anniversary by doubling their workers' pay in gratitude for their services or reward their employees with a time off from transporting random objects like mouthwash and such. Wrong! Pony Express continues to remain as corrupt and devastating as before.

The word celebrate did not mean rest or pay, but rather work to the point you feel like collapsing. The company managed to get a hold of a bar downtown, where they could prioritize sponsoring drinks and food made by their (only) lovely personnel. Thankfully, the bar would only be open during holidays or special occasions like this.

The Grand Opening was in its fruition; customers soon flooded the area, ordering the slightly expensive items on the menu, while some solely came for the purpose of ogling at Curly, who worked as the bar manager and was only making a few appearances every now and then. Besides that, Anya was a barista, Jimmy and Swansea were covering as the bartenders—hopefully Swansea wouldn't let his impulsive thoughts win.

You and Daisuke were assigned as the bar servers; your only job was to deliver the drinks to its designated table. However, Daisuke couldn't focus. You were wearing a classy charcoal gray suit meant to show off your impeccable taste in fashion, the tailored jacket fitting snugly on your shoulders, the suit pants draped perfectly over your polished shoes—it would be an injustice to say that you look just fine.

Daisuke's wearing a suit, too, but that didn't matter. He's panicking on the inside because he has to admire you from afar since breaks aren't going to happen here. You're at the other end of the bar, serving people their drinks while they squeal at the sight of your charismatic smile, like you never needed any effort to be pretty like that.

He gulps, throat painfully dry.