Chapter 23:

Tales of Virtual Pubkeeper

Tales of Virtual Shopkeeper


The pub – A special place where lasses and fellas can drink their troubles away, s’posing that they’re of age... Although I guess the whole ‘of age’ bit doesn’t really matter in an MMO. It’s not like this stuff contains any real alcohol anyway. If anythin’, Utopia Online is actually a great place fer the under 20s to get their first taste o’ alcohol, without facin’ any o’ the real-world side-effects or legal problems, which I reckon is the reason why this place is such a popular hotspot fer players.


Watchin’ customers’s troubles magically melt away is one o’ life’s greatest pleasures, an’ watchin’ ’em fumble around drunkenly even more so. And that’s why I, Kuromaru, chose t’ become a Bartender in Utopia Online.


…What, you were expectin’ some Yuu Watanabe guy? Don’t get yer hopes up, I ain’t even know who that is.


EPILOGUE 1 – TALES OF VIRTUAL PUBKEEPER


I sat behind my bar, same as always, polishin’ a pint glass with the bottom o’ my avatar’s t-shirt. There were probably more sanitary things I coulda been usin’ to clean up (like a tablecloth or somethin’), but this is just a game, so it ain’t like it matters much. It’s not like yer gonna find any o’ that freakin’ corona-whatzit in my establishment anyway.


I finished scrubbin’ the glass, putting it aside. I turned around, prepared to take my latest customer’s order, and…

“Hey there,” the familiar catboy muttered.

~Schrödinger~ – Level 350 Therianthrope

Good freakin’ grief – It was ~Schrödinger~, easily one o’ my most annoying regulars. All this fella ever did was moan, moan, moan, an’ it always pissed me the Hell off. What’s that, ya can’t find the Demon King? Well boo-fricking-hoo, nobody cares. Get a new hobby! …Still, I had t’ remain professional.

“What’ll it be?” I sighed.

“Gimme your strongest drink,” the fella sighed.

“Another rough day?” I asked, pretendin’ t’ be curious. In actually, I ain’t really give a crap. Smalltalk was fer losers.

“I was this close, Kuromaru,” the feline shouted, “I actually fought the Demon King, but he was too powerful!”

“Whatever you say, fella,” I muttered under my breath.


As freakin’ if. Did he take me fer some kind o’ fool? No player ’as even seen the Demon King’s ugly mug before. I ain’t even gonna humor this crap. A weaker person might’ve asked ~Schrödinger~ to elaborate on ’is story, but I ain’t that kind o’ girl. What sorta establishment-owner would actually listen t’ their customers ramble on anyway? That’s so freakin’ idiotic and boring.


With no hesitation, I grabbed every beer that I had behind the counter an’ poured ’em into one unholy abomination of a cocktail. In real-life, a shot this powerful would probably be enough t’ fell an Indian elephant several times over, but fortunately this was just a game. (Although now that I think about it, would anyone really complain if this annoyin’ ragamuffin were to pass on IRL? I doubt it.)

“Here ya go,” I smiled.

Without even thinkin’, ~Schrödinger~ snatched my murder cocktail an’ took a large sip. Within mere moments, the small catboy was flat-out drunk. He spun around back an’ forth on the bar stool like it were some kind o’ swivel chair, spillin’ the cocktail all over my shirt in the process.

“Oi, be careful,” I snarled, “Ya got that crap all over my top!”

“Ooh, nyaa~ I can… *hic* see your bra,” he slurred drunkenly.

I looked down an’, sure enough, I could easily make out my avatar’s lace bra underneath my freakin’ shirt. I scoffed, pullin’ my t-shirt over my head and quickly yeetin’ it at the defenseless catboy, knockin’ ’im out of ’is stool. (Not gonna lie, that sure did feel satisfyin’.) A small audience of drunkards were gawkin’ at my curvaceous body, but I guess that ain’t surprise me much. My Seduction Stat ain’t that high though, so I s’pose it didn’t really matter. They’ll all go back t’ their drinks in due time…


I sighed, flickin’ my avatar’s long pink hair as I got up from behind the bar. I walked over to the catboy, pickin’ ’im up off o’ the floor.

“I can… see your bra,” he stated once more.

“You already said that,” I informed ’im matter-o’-factly.

“Nyaa… Did I?” he asked, aimlessly rubbin’ the apex of my bra with one o’ his clawed fingers.

“Oi, ’ands of the merch,” I snapped, quickly smackin’ ’is hand away with ease.

“*Hic* You’re no fun, Kuromaru,” he cooed.

“Newsflash – I literally ain’t give a damn.”

“Do your… *hic* panties match your bra?” he murmured.

“Shame you’ll never find out,” I smirked, punchin’ the drunk catboy square in the jaw, causin’ ’im t’ fall to the ground –where he belonged– once more.

Some may think that I’m bein’ a bit cruel here. After all, I was the one who was responsible fer the catboy’s pissed-up state in the first place… ’Course, I don’t really care ’bout what other people think. If someone gets on my nerves, I ain’t got a problem with pummelin’ ’em into next week, regardless o’ the circumstances.


“They do match~” he stated in a singsong voice, blatantly starin’ up my avatar’s skirt.

“They also match the color o’ your face,” I grinned, deliverin’ a series o’ kicks t’ the catboy’s stupid face until it was as bright red as my undies. Several o’ the patrons were starin’ in our direction as ~Schrödinger~ screamed ’is poor little head off. (’Course, he was just bein’ a freakin’ drama queen in ’is drunken state. I ain’t even have any points in my Strength Stat, so my blows were barely even doin’ damage.)

“Had enough, pervert?”

“Nyaa~ I’m not… a pervert,” he murmured, “I’m not even… into girls…”

“…Wait, yer not?” I asked.

“I just *hic* thought that your underwear looked stylish…”

“Oh. Er… sorry,” I said, scratchin’ the back o’ my avatar’s head sheepishly.


I blushed as I picked the fella up off o’ the ground once again, dustin’ off his clothes.

“You should really be more careful what’cha say,” I informed ’im.

“It’s not my fault,” he drunkenly murmured, rubbin’ ’is sore head, “You’re the one who *hic* got me this drunk.”

“You said that’cha wanted the strongest drink I ’ad, didn’cha?”

“Nyaa~ I guess so…”

“S’pose I should apologize fer beatin’ yer ass, huh?”

“The great ~Schrödinger~ would never… *hic* lose in a fight,” he decreed, proudly puffin’ out his chest.

“Ya just did,” I sighed, “An’ besides, didn’cha say that you lost to the Demon King earlier?”

“The Demon King?! Where is he?!” the catboy demanded, withdrawin’ a dagger from ’is inventory and slashin’ around aimlessly at the air.

Usually, I enjoyed seein’ people make a frickin’ fool outta themselves while drunk, but this fella was just a painful combination of pathetic an’ annoyin’.

“Put the dagger down before ya hurt someone,” I huffed.


But it was too late. In ’is drunken stupor, the catboy slashed forward, rippin’ the side of my skirt with ’is damned blade. My cheeks were redder than my delicates, as my skirt fell to my ankles. On a scale from ‘Hell no’ t’ ‘Oh, yeah’, havin’ yer panties flashed in front of a bar full o’ drunkards was definitely on the lower end of any asexual’s scale.

“Oopsie,” the drunk catboy beamed, “At least everyone can see your beautiful panties now!”

That’s it. I was done bein’ nice. I quickly hiked my skirt back up ’round my waist, before deliverin’ a swift kick t’ ~Schrödinger~’s groin.

“Get out of my pub,” I demanded.



I sighed as I sat back down ’hind the bar and started t’ polish another pint glass. I was wearin’ nothin’ but my red bra an’ panties. S’pose it could be worse. This is just a game after all, ’s not like this is my actual body that I’m showin’ off. (Which is probably a good thing, since I’m wearin’ a real embarrassin’ pair o’ undies right now…) And ’sides, maybe a few o’ my patrons will be more inclined t’ give me a li’l tip, if ya know what I’m sayin’?



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