1 The Siren’s Song and The Pretty Face

It was a sunny spring afternoon, light filtered between alley and rooftop, reflecting on broken glass and littered trash.

Saltown was famous for its rough neighborhoods, and as it was a dock-town that hosted many sailors, the smell of old fish and days-without-showers hung over it near constantly. However, there was a reason that many still visited here despite that, and that was due to one restaurant; The Siren's Song.

It sprung up around two years ago, and was initially met with discontent and targeted by vandalism; until one day, a group who attempted to rob the restaurant mysteriously vanished, then returned with horrible injuries, spouting nonsense about demons.

Initially, people were attracted by the rumors, and the once empty dock town now was flooded with those who wanted to investigate the 'demon' who ran the restaurant.

The reason so many continued to visit, even after those rumors died off, came back for different reasons.

One, for the exquisite food that none had even dreamed of beforehand, and two was the rumored appearances of the two people who worked there.

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"Hey girl, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" A drunkard's laugh echoed through the restaurant, somehow rising above the noise of similar drunkards.

"Yes, in fact, it did hurt quite a bit." The tired voice of the purple-haired owner of The Siren's Song spoke. She had heard dozens of similar cat calls through the years since she first set up shop here; and easily shut them down the moment they cropped up.

"Now now, quiet down before the waiter spits in your drink." The only other employee of the establishment was a young man with dark-blue hair, and had a similarly reputable attitude, and while the Owner attracted many of the men here, the waiter's face had gathered a equal amount of women as well.

Combined with the food, The Siren's Song had lured many besides sailors to the distant town, and had a following that rivaled the king's. Because of this, and the environment on which the restaurant laid, there was at least some trouble daily.

A crash sounded, a man akin to a weasel had suddenly shot up, plate crashing to floor. "Three gold pieces?! For a shitty thing like that?! I could buy and sell a whore for three fucking gold!" He spat into the face of the waiter. "Unfortunately, that is the price that must be payed. If you have a issue, I can ask the owner of this establishment to talk with you." He replied with a smile. "Well? Go get 'er, you dainty bastard." The weasel replied, crossing his arms and puffing his chest.

After a few minutes, out from the kitchen walked the owner. "I heard you have issues. What's your problem." She said in a way that implied it was him, not the food, that was the problem. Her rude words didn't match her face, and she always had a tired annoyance in her tone.

"Y-you.... You dare speak to me so rudely?! Your shit that you dare call 'food' costs three gold, and you DARE talk like that?!" While the meaning of her words may have only been barely implied, the fact someone dared insult him caused a explosive reaction. Swinging the back of his hand towards her in what was surely meant as a slap, the expected hit never came. Grabbing his wrist was the hand of the girl, having stopped his swing in it's track.

"I'll ask again. What's your problem?"

"Ah, my hand got a bit bruised... guess your debt's been doubled to six coins now. You know how valuable a chef's hands are to a chef, don't you?" The weasel-like man was splayed across the floor, and having fell onto the shards remaining from the plate that was broken, the coppery scent of blood rose from the ground. A stray tooth that had flown from the man's mouth, a remainder from when the girl had returned his swing with one of her own, sat a few feet away from where he had fallen. If it wasn't such a usual sight, it would have been shocking; and for those of which this was their first visit, it was. For regulars however, it was nothing new.

"Ay, Alice, you did a good job again cleanin' up tha garbage, ya did! I'd buy ya a victory drink, but it'd be mighty silly to give you a drink you already own." A regular's voice spoke, and the temporary quiet soon ended, replaced once more with the static of talk.

"Really, I'd think that by now that there wouldn't be so much trouble..." Alice spoke, rubbing the back of her hand. "Anyway, Neryus. I leave the clean up to you."

The waiter, Neryus, nodded, and picked up the man by his ankle. "Well, seeing as he can't pay his debt, I'll do the usual." He spoke before walking into the back room. Locals dubbed the back-room door the graveyard's gate. Many came back looking like they were undead. Few went missing. In reality, they just washed dishes for a few weeks. When people couldn't pay with money, they payed by washing dishes- and if they complained, they'd be given some... motivation. At the very least they got leftovers, and if they were too poor to pay for food, they should be thankful they got free food.

Drunkards and pay-skippers weren't the biggest trouble though, the largest issue came from guilds- as rumor of Alice's ability spread, two reactions came about; Admiration and Fear. Some wanted her on their side, others wanted to challenge her. A guild once sent people over to try and shut down her restaurant, so she'd have no choice but to join. Didn't work, so others just kept sending over people to pester her. As they were stronger then her usual patrons, they often broke more stuff; and put up more trouble when they got sent to wash dishes.

"... is it too much to ask for me to live my dream? I'm somewhat happy where I am... but..." she shook her head; seeds of doubt showed up randomly, no doubt a futile attempt by Neryus to try and get her to suddenly want to become a hero. He was a lot less annoying after three years of failed attempts, but he always attacked when she wasn't prepared. If she had a choice, he'd be gone; she'd tried, and failed.

'Honestly... I left behind my entire life, and he makes me feel like the bad guy. Should have chosen someone a bit more heroic then me, then.'

The habit of talking to herself, both out loud and in her mind, still stuck no matter how long she was here. As if summoned by discontent, the blue-haired problem returned his slimy self to within her eyesight. Not wishing to see his disgustingly perfect face any longer, Alice returned to the kitchen, the only place where she felt grounded in this world.