Return Customer

Mark sat down in a small diner in the middle of the city. His eyes widened as he looked at the menu on the wall. Prices were scribbled out and replaced with papers on top of them. He looked at the server with bewilderment. 

"What's up with the price change?" 

The server looked at him with slight sorrow, knowing Mark to be a regular at their establishment. 

"Sorry, our stock is running low and we can't afford to use normal prices. Please bear with them for a bit."

Mark sighed and checked his wallet. The money he had will get him through the next few weeks, but if food expenses keep going up he will be in a pinch. He'll need to cut down for some time. 

"I'll take this then."

He simply had an omelet. It was pretty bland, but there was nothing he could do about that. It was the cheapest item after all. 

Mark then left the diner half-satiated and continued to walk around the city. Unlike everyone else who seemed to be hurrying off to some place, he was leisurely pacing through the dissonant crowd.

And so the young man spent his time wandering the concrete labyrinth, mostly looking for places to hang out but also searching for potential jobs. He needed to be able to hop ship if anything went wrong with the bar. Time seemed to wash past him as he eventually saw the sun start to descend. He quickly turned in the direction of the bar and began to walk. 

After opening the creaky wooden door and entering the homely building, he saw Royce working on something. Mark looked over and realized that the menu was being changed. 

"You finished the new recipe?" 

"Not yet."

Royce looked up and shook his head before refocusing on his writing.

He froze, then looked at Mark's face. 

"Something happened at home again?" 

"Huh?" 

Mark paused, genuinely bewildered. Then realization hit him as he reached for the place Royce was looking at, feeling a deep cut below his eye.

"Yeah, I forgot to buy food."

"Go get that patched up, you know where the stuff is." 

Mark nodded and went into the kitchen. In a far contrast from the homely wooden bar, the whole room had a pristine white color, nearly sparkling in cleanliness. He opened a cabinet and took out the medical supplies. 

Half of the stuff was already used. Probably due to burns and knife cuts. Though very rarely did he see the old man with bandaged fingers. 

Then again, Mark had also been using a fair deal of the kit too. 

The young man rubbed some alcohol on his wound and then adorned it with a small bandage. After that he left the kitchen immediately, not wanting to dirty it any more than he should. 

He looked at the old man inquisitively.

"So if you aren't adding a new item, what are you doing to the menu?" 

"I need to adjust the prices. Our suppliers are starting to demand more money."

Mark read the new numbers.

He had looked at some other businesses today, and all of them were also raising the cost of their products. What confused him were the new prices that Royce was putting. 

"You aren't increasing them by a lot." 

The old man let out a proud, hearty laugh, he puffed out his chest and struck it with his fist. 

"All thanks to my haggling skills!"

Mark chuckled uneasily.

"I don't think you should be proud of that..."

'Not that I'm any better.' 

Royce smiled. 

"We are nearing times where people will be forced out of comfort. Those unable to suppress their morals will find themselves in a world of trouble." 

The old man met Mark's eyes with a profound gaze. 

"You too, will one day need to do things you find unacceptable."

Mark stood still for a second, then nodded in agreement. 

"Probably."

He could tell that there was something else the old man wanted to say but wasn't able to. He didn't want the old man to be any more stressed than he already was. It would be unfavorable for him if Royce did something haphazardly.

Mark sighed and began checking on the alcohol supply. There was slightly less than usual. Perhaps that's another effect of overpriced goods. 

At this point, all he can do is wait for the inevitable and make preparations for when the time comes. 

The first customer eventually arrived, the wooden door sounding its arrival. Mark's eyes lit up as he found a chance to earn some easy money. 

"Welcome back!" 

A man with a formal air walked to the bar, his business suit indicated a fair deal of wealth. Dread seemed to linger on the precipice of his expression. 

"I'll have the usual." 

"Coming right up!" 

As Mark poured the businessman a beer, he struck up a conversation. 

"I heard some news about the man who beat up your child." 

"About Tom?" 

"Yeah. Apparently he went missing not so long ago." 

The man looked at Mark skeptically. 

"How do you know?"

Mark expected such a response and had one waiting in return. 

"One of his gang members told me. It's actually widely known on the streets. Some people probably sought vengeance in an alley while he was drunk." 

The businessman seemed to loosen up upon hearing the news. Yet, the dread in his expression still lingered. 

Mark was slightly curious as he instigated a feeling of worry in the patron. The man began to voice his troubles. 

"Even though the city now has one less scoundrel, the streets are becoming more and more unsafe. My child will likely have to face even more dangers."

'Interesting.'

Mark tilted his head. 

"Really? Why?" 

After taking another sip, the man explained. 

"Our government has recently been pumping a lot of money into the economy. Simply put, doing that makes people have more money than they should, and prices begin to rise." 

He took another sip before continuing. 

"As things seem, the government will continue to pump money into the system, and prices will get even higher. A lot of people will suffer because of this, and crime will rise along with it."

The man looked at the menu. 

"Your prices have also risen. But trust me, this is just the start." 

Mark was stunned by the explanation for the rising prices, but something was missing. 

"So if the government is putting all this money into the economy, why isn't it going around, why aren't we getting any?" 

The patron lost his formal air as he chugged the rest of the beer and slammed it on the table.

"It's because all the printed money is being given to the damned weapon producers. And those greedy pigs won't let a single coin leave their grubby-ass hands!" 

With that, he slammed the bar and rose. Then strode to the door and left. His bated actions left Mark stunned for a moment. 

'Wait, no! I haven't exploited you yet! Come back!' 

Mark's head dropped in dejection. He picked up the empty pint glass and began to wipe it. 

'Ugh, hopefully nobody saw him leave.' 

After all, that would make for a bad image. That was the last thing he needed in these uncertain times. His job was on the line goddamn it!

Yet at that moment, a creak reverberated across the room. 

A stunning brunette strolled into the bar, her caramel hair bathed in the sun's afterglow, her peach-colored eyes were tinted with mockery and amusement. 

'Ugh' 

Mark already knew what was coming. 

"That's the first time I've seen someone storm out of a bar so pissed. What sorry excuse of a bartender are you?" 

Mark felt his eye twitch.

'This insufferable woman!' 

He put an obliviously radiant expression on his face as he brought forth a sense of gratification in the stunning lady before him.

"Ahaha- welcome back..."

Mark's expression distorted. 

'Again!?' 

She smiled brilliantly, her jovial expression seemed to illuminate the bar. 

"It's Cielo."