A Simple Bartender

The cool night air clung to Viktor's coat as he stepped through the bar's back entrance, the silence broken only by the soft chime of the bell as he entered.

Slumped on the floor, her wings trembling and her expression blank, was Raynare. She looked utterly defeated, still reeling from the night's chaos. Her once smug and sadistic demeanor had vanished, replaced by wide-eyed shock and a deep, gnawing fear.

Viktor's gaze hardened as he shut the door behind him. With deliberate calm, he shrugged off his coat and let his wings unfurl. All twelve of them—jet-black and imposing—stretched across the room like a storm blotting out the sky. They shimmered faintly under the bar's dim lighting, casting an eerie, majestic silhouette.

"Now, little birdie," Viktor began, his voice smooth as velvet but colder than death, "you will tell me everything. Who sent you? Why did they send you? And if your answers don't bore me to death, maybe—just maybe—you'll walk out of here with your miserable life intact."

Raynare's head slowly turned toward him, her eyes locking onto the wings, and her face went pale.

"Viktor? The Midnight Raven? You're real?!" Her voice cracked with disbelief, and then, like a wave crashing into her, realization struck. She dropped her gaze, fell to her knees, and pressed her forehead to the ground.

"Sir, please… have mercy…"

Viktor exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. He turned his back on her briefly, walking behind the counter, pouring himself a drink with graceful ease.

"I told you to speak, not to grovel like a worm." He slid a glass across the floor toward her. "Drink. And stand up. You disgust me crawling on the ground like that."

Raynare's trembling hands reached for the glass. She rose shakily to her feet and took a cautious sip before setting the glass down and slowly sitting opposite Viktor.

He leaned forward, one elbow on the counter, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

"Start from the beginning. Explain how you thought aggravating the little sister of the damned Lucifer was a good idea."

Raynare hesitated, then swallowed hard. Her voice was quiet but steady, trying to hold itself together in front of the legendary monster seated across from her.

"I... I was weak," she admitted. "A nobody. One of the countless nameless Fallen, scraping by on scraps, watching the strong climb the ranks while I remained irrelevant. I wanted—no, I needed—to change that."

She clenched her fists, eyes downcast. "Then, one day, a package arrived. No name. No sender. Inside... was the Sacred Gear Extractor. I don't know who sent it or why. But it was like someone handed me a way out. A chance. So I started to plan."

She took another sip, eyes briefly flicking up to Viktor's expressionless face.

"My first idea was to steal a Sacred Gear. Make it mine. Prove that I could be someone important. So I targeted Issei Hyoudou. At the time, I thought he had a strong Sacred Gear. I lured him in... and when I found out he only had what I thought was a weak Twice Critical, I killed him."

She paused, her voice trembling now.

"But I was wrong. Rias Gremory brought him back. And then I found out what he really was. The Red Dragon Emperor."

Raynare let out a hollow laugh and downed the rest of her drink.

"I cursed my luck. I had the Emperor of Domination in my grasp, and I threw it away. Then I remembered the nun. The girl called Asia Argento. She had a Sacred Gear too. Twilight Healing. It wasn't powerful offensively, but it was rare. Holy. Valuable."

Viktor raised a hand.

"Enough. Extend your hands."

Raynare looked up, confused.

"Now."

She hesitantly raised her hands, palms up.

Viktor stood, and with a whisper of magic, summoned a sword into existence. It didn't shine with light or glow with fire. It was a quiet, elegant thing, forged in deep space and darker thoughts. The blade shimmered with a soft void-light, like a sliver of a dead star.

"This is Nocturne," Viktor said calmly.

"Forged from the remnants of a collapsed star. It severs not flesh, but soul. It bypasses regeneration, immortality, and all the cheap immortal beings like to use."

He stepped forward.

"You stole something that doesn't belong to you. And I'm going to give it back."

In a blur of motion, too fast for Raynare's eyes to track, Viktor moved.

She gasped, looking down.

Both her middle fingers were gone. There was no pain. No blood. Just absence. The rings that once housed the sacred gear floated gently upward from her severed digits, drawn by invisible threads of fate. Then, they vanished—racing through the air as if guided by a divine pull.

"Asia has ben resurrected as a Devil now. Twilight Healing will find its way back to its true bearer."

He held up the missing fingers. With a flick of his hand, they dissapeared.

"Earn them back. If you can."

Raynare stared at her hands in silent horror.

She shivered uncontrollably.

This man—this thing—was no ordinary Fallen. He was something else. Something the others whispered about but never dared to seek.

"Now," Viktor said, lighting a cigarette with a snap of his fingers, "go on."

Raynare nodded quickly, her voice breaking slightly as she continued.

"I learned of Asia's past. How she was excommunicated from the church for saving a Devil. I tracked her down. Arranged her trip to Japan with the promise of a new church home. Everything was working out perfectly… until Hyoudou and Gremory stuck their noses in it."

She slumped slightly in her seat.

"Everything unraveled after that."

Viktor exhaled a plume of smoke, the scent of tobacco mingling with the heavy tension in the room.

"Of course it did," he said. "Because you're a fool. But at least you learned the price of having big ambitions without strength to back them up."

Raynare nodded quickly, her eyes darting anywhere but his face.

Viktor downed the last of his drink, then turned to face the window, staring out into the stillness of the night.

"Welcome to your new life, Raynare. You may have fallen far—but under my roof, you will rise or die trying."

Behind him, Raynare could only nod, her breath shaky and heart pounding.

The Midnight Raven had spoken. And now, her fate was tied to him.

- The Following Day -

The chime above the entrance rang sharp and clear, cutting through the quiet hum of the early morning. The bar hadn't even opened yet, but the presence that entered was unmistakable. Rias Gremory, crimson-haired heiress of the Gremory Clan, stepped inside with quiet confidence, her school uniform immaculate, her expression less so.

She stopped just inside the door, her blue eyes narrowing into icy slits.

Raynare was sweeping the wooden floor with deliberate care, dressed in a crisp black suit.

She paused when she saw Rias, returning the stare with quiet defiance.

"So," Rias said, tone flat. "This is where the trash ended up."

Raynare smirked faintly, but didn't say a word.

"Princess," came Viktor's voice from behind the counter, smooth as ever. "Wish I could say it's a surprise."

He was exactly as she remembered—laid-back and unreadable, cigarette between his fingers, a half-filled glass of some strong alcoholic beverage nearby.

"We need to talk," Rias said, walking with sharp purpose toward the bar. "Alone. Away from dirty crows."

"Now now," Viktor said, raising an eyebrow as he sipped from his glass. "Let's not be rude to those less fortunate."

Raynare gave a slow, mocking curtsy.

Rias ignored it. "Viktor."

"Tea?" he asked instead.

A pause. Then Rias sighed. "Sure."

He moved with his usual calm grace, placing a porcelain teapot over a blue flame behind the bar. The scent of black jasmine filled the air as silence lingered between them.

A few minutes later, tea in hand, Viktor led her to a private room tucked away behind the bar.

Rias stepped in, pausing at the threshold.

It wasn't what she expected.

The room felt ancient and modern at once. Dark-stained wood lined the floors and ceiling, while deep, navy-blue curtains framed a single tall window that let in soft, amber light. A fireplace crackled low in one corner, while bookshelves towered around the walls, filled with tomes in languages she didn't recognize—some even older than the Underworld. A glass cabinet held artifacts that shimmered with sealed magic, and above the mantle sat a massive black raven carved from obsidian, its wings outstretched in frozen flight.

This was a scholar's den.

A warrior's retreat.

A tactician's nest.

So very not just a bar owner.

"This your living room?" Rias asked, sipping her tea.

"Among other things," Viktor said, sitting opposite her in a leather armchair. "Now then, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Rias set her cup down with a faint clink. "You already know."

Viktor chuckled, exhaling a thin wisp of smoke. "Humor me."

"As the protector of this territory, given to me by my brother, I have to ask—what are you really doing here, Viktor?"

His expression didn't change. "Running a bar."

Her glare intensified. "Don't insult my intelligence. A twelve-winged Fallen, The Midnight Raven, doesn't just open a bar in Kuoh on a whim."

"Maybe I got tired of all the grandeur," Viktor said with a shrug. "Maybe I just wanted a quiet place to pour drinks and listen to foolish teenage drama."

She leaned forward. "You're a walking legend. You've fought wars against Heaven and Hell, and now you're making lattes for high schoolers? No one's buying it."

He met her gaze, calm and unshaken.

"Sometimes the strongest people crave peace more than battle. You'd be surprised how fulfilling a slow life can be."

She scoffed, but didn't argue.

Rias shifted gears. "Why did you protect Raynare?"

"I told you," Viktor said, tapping ash into a tray. "I need more employees."

Her voice dropped to a growl. "She killed Asia. Or did you forget that part?"

"I didn't." Viktor's eyes sharpened. "But Asia is breathing again. Under your wing, if I'm not mistaken."

"That doesn't excuse Raynare."

"No, it doesn't," Viktor agreed. "But maybe a life of punishment, servitude, and humiliation will do more good than a quick death. Perspective, Princess. The world isn't black and white."

Rias frowned. She hated that he made sense. Hated that he always danced around giving straight answers.

After a long pause, Viktor raised an eyebrow. "So… will my star employee be clocking in today?"

"Issei?" Rias nodded. "Yes. He'll come."

"Good," Viktor said, leaning back. "But…"

"But he's not going to like who he sees behind the bar." Rias crossed her arms, exasperated. "Not one bit."

Viktor smirked. "Character development."

"He's not a protagonist in a story, Viktor."

"He's more than you think," Viktor said simply. "Just like you are."

Their eyes locked across the room, the air thick with power and unspoken thoughts.

"I still don't trust you," Rias said.

"You don't have to," Viktor replied. "But you might come to understand me."

The soft chime of the bell over the bar's entrance broke the still air just as Viktor tilted his head toward the door. He stood abruptly, the quiet scrape of his chair against the polished wood floor startling even Rias.

"Speaking of Hyoudou," Viktor muttered, glancing toward the entrance. "Here he comes."

Rias furrowed her brow. "You can sense him?"

Viktor smirked. "Of course I can. The kid's got the subtlety of a marching band in a church."

With a sweep of his long coat, Viktor strolled out of the living room, Rias following closely behind, heels tapping against the hardwood. The two emerged from the private space just in time to see Issei Hyoudou storm into the bar, his expression thunderous.

His eyes immediately locked onto Raynare, who was standing behind the counter, holding a rag and halfway through wiping a glass. The suit she wore fit surprisingly well, but there was no mistaking her identity—not to someone like Issei.

His jaw clenched. His fists curled. And the room dropped a few degrees in temperature from the sheer rage burning behind his eyes.

"You…" he growled.

Raynare flinched visibly, her hands trembling.

"You've got some fucking nerve showing your face like this!" Issei's voice cracked through the room like a whip, and he took a step forward. "You killed Asia. You killed me. You played me—"

"Issei." Rias's voice was low but firm.

He didn't even hear her.

"I trusted you! I—" He charged forward, arm raised, his Sacred Gear flickering into partial manifestation.

Raynare cried out, stumbling backward, her foot catching on a stool as she fell.

Before the blow could land—or the gear could fully materialize—a pressure filled the room. Heavy. Absolute. Ancient.

Viktor raised his hand with a lazy gesture, and suddenly Issei froze mid-step, suspended by unseen force. Not bound, not choked—just held, as if the air itself had wrapped around him with intent.

"That's quite enough," Viktor said, voice cold but composed. "I appreciate youthful enthusiasm, Hyoudou, but this isn't your domain."

Issei struggled against the force, sweat beading on his brow. "She deserves it! After everything she did—"

"Ah," Viktor cut in, voice smooth as silk, but now laced with iron. "Justice. Retribution. The righteous fury of youth. It's all so… poetic."

He stepped between the boy and the girl, his presence like a veil separating two worlds.

"She does deserve something," Viktor admitted, looking over his shoulder at Raynare, who was still sitting on the floor. "But the beauty of power, Issei, is not in the taking of vengeance… it's in the choice not to."

The pressure around Issei faded, and he stumbled forward, catching himself.

"You think she deserves to walk free?" Issei shouted. "After what she's done? After what she took from us?"

"She's not free," Viktor said. "She works for me now. No pay. No joy. Every day spent serving drinks and wiping floors while being ogled and insulted by horny teens like you. Honestly, it's more punishment than death."

"Boss…" Issei looked heartbroken. "I can't work here with her."

"I didn't ask you to forgive her," Viktor said, his voice calm. "But I'm offering you something far more powerful."

"What?" Issei snapped.

"Perspective," Viktor said, lifting a cigarette to his lips and lighting it with a flick of his finger. "The world isn't black and white. It's shades of crimson, gold, and ash. Sometimes, your enemies become the tools that sharpen you. Sometimes, sparing someone is the cruelest mercy."

Issei stared at him, seething. But he didn't lash out again.

Raynare, still sitting, lowered her head.

"You think a speech changes anything?" Issei asked.

"No," Viktor exhaled smoke and smiled wryly. "But maybe time will."

Rias walked over slowly, placing a hand on Issei's shoulder.

"You don't have to work today," she said gently. "Take some time."

Issei didn't respond. He just turned on his heel and walked out the door, the bell chiming once again in his wake.

A tense silence followed.

Viktor took a long drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily toward the ceiling. "He'll be back," he said, tone unreadable. "He's angry now. Hurt. But the boy's heart is louder than his hate."

Rias folded her arms, watching the door swing shut behind Issei. "You're gambling with people's emotions."

"No," Viktor replied. "I'm forging them. Pain is a whetstone. And Hyoudou… he's still being shaped."

Raynare slowly stood, brushing off her suit, though her hands continued to tremble.

"…Thank you," she whispered, barely audible.

Viktor didn't look at her. "Don't thank me. Earn your place. Or next time, I won't stop him."

She nodded, more solemnly than before, and walked back behind the bar.

Rias turned to Viktor, her expression softening just a fraction. "I still don't trust you."

"You said that already."

"I'll keep saying it until you prove me wrong."

Viktor offered her a lopsided grin. "I look forward to it."

Viktor's gaze lingered on the door Issei had exited through.

"There's a storm coming, Princess," he said finally. "I'd rather the boy learns to stand in it now, rather than drown in it later."

Rias glanced at him sideways. "I think you're not just a bartender, as you put it."

Viktor smiled without humor. "And you're not just a schoolgirl."

He walked back to the counter.

"Drink?" he offered.

Rias hesitated. Then, reluctantly, she nodded. "Sure."

The world didn't stop spinning. But in that little bar on the edge of Kuoh, something had shifted.

And Viktor could feel the gears of fate beginning to turn.