The Extra wants a Peaceful Life

In a bar that had seen better days, a man could be seen rolling his wheelchair with one hand while expertly balancing a tray of beer in the other.

Despite how difficult it seemed, he seamlessly wove through the worn-out tables as though it were second nature—a feat that would've been challenging for most men in his condition.

With a practiced motion, the man placed the tray on the table before giving the group of youths a nod—his face indifferent as he turned and rolled back to the counter.

The bar was a wreck, but it was home. His eyes scanned the familiar scene—the cracked walls, faded paint, and broken furniture scattered about.

Once, this place had been the best in the city, a place where big names would stop by for a drink, a spot where shady businessmen would drop by to strike deals with their partners.

This formerly glorious place became what it is after his parents' deaths in a car crash. Without anyone around to run the place—since he was in the military at that time—the place slowly wilted, becoming a shadow of its former self.

Although rundown, this bar was all he had left. It was a reminder of his memories with his parents and how things were before everything went south.

Shifting those thoughts to the back of his mind, he set about cleaning the glasses at the counter—unbothered by the laughter and jeers that erupted from the youths within the bar.

"The way he moves is hilarious," one slurred, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Yeah, must be broke as hell if he can't even afford the cheapest prosthetic," another chimed in, laughter following like it was the funniest thing they'd ever said.

"At least show some respect," a third youth joked, feigning respect for Tega. "The right thing he could do—and did—was walk away."

"You mean roll away."

"Hey, better be careful, guys," a youth at another table interrupted, grinning as he added, "You don't want him to walk you out."

Unfazed by the mocking laughter and insults thrown his way, Tega kept wiping down the cups like they didn't exist. He had heard worse, and a bunch of kids with failed upbringings weren't worth his energy.

"Why don't you stop them?" a familiar voice asked while Tega was lost in his own world.

Barely moving his head, he said, "Thought you'd be at Lisa's place. You're newly married, aren't you?"

Emma—his best friend since elementary school—chuckled dryly. Settling at the bar, he responded, "Not anymore. Turns out being a cripple without a pension doesn't make for a happy marriage. She took everything and divorced me the second she found out." His voice carried a hint of mockery as he spoke.

"So now you're broke, and your first move is to grab a drink. Classic." Tega teased, amused by how the woman who claimed she loved his friend had left him.

"Damn right. Best way to numb the pain." Emma finished his beer in one long gulp, staring at the empty cup like it held the answers to all his problems. "Wanna know what's really bothering me?"

Still focused on getting the cups clean, Tega replied, "Go ahead. I've got time."

Sighing dramatically, while playing with the cup in his hand, Emma whined, "I lost my right hand, my wife, and my money. Now I can't even take care of my 'needs' properly."

With a pitiful expression crossing his face, Emma glanced at Tega and said, "Sometimes, I wish I were you."

"Oh? And why's that?" Tega responded, raising an eyebrow while acting surprised.

"You still have both your hands. You know how useless my left hand is." Emma grumbled, the pitiful look staying in place.

Deciding to lighten the mood, Tega spoke with a smirk on his lips. "That's why it pays to be ambidextrous, my friend. When I get tired of using my left, I can always switch to my right."

"Lucky bastard," Emma cursed, his face twisting in mock frustration, though there was a genuine trace of envy in his voice.

Unbothered by the traces of pointless envy he had picked up, Tega chuckled. "Another glass?"

Tempted but still trying to be sensible, Emma sighed. "I can only afford this one. Gotta eat, you know?"

With a grin, Tega poured whiskey into Emma's cup as he said, "On the house, brother. We're in this together, right?"

Pouring a glass for himself, he added, "Your problems are mine, and my problems are yours. We're sworn brothers, after all."

"Cheers," Emma said after hearing what Tega had to say, smiling for the first time that night. A part of him felt extremely happy that someone was willing to stick by his side despite how cruel the world was.

"Cheers." Tega clinked his glass with Emma's, glad to have someone around who got along with him.

There was no false sympathy or pity in the air. They were just two friends laughing through the hard times.

Thirty minutes later, Emma staggered out of the bar, reeking of booze. Flashing Tega a lopsided grin, he said, "Thanks for the drink! I'll take you out when I've got cash!"

"Anytime," Tega called back, watching his friend weave through the dimly lit street, a small smile tugging at his lips.

As the bar quieted down, Tega stretched, his joints protesting after a long night of serving drinks. He was about to close up when a homeless-looking man stumbled in.

"Get me a drink," the man mumbled in a tone that was neither polite nor rude, dragging himself toward the counter.

Hesitant, Tega looked at the ragged figure for a few seconds before deciding to pour him a beer anyway.

Downing the drink in one gulp, the man didn't bother to savor it like most people in his situation would. Immediately after he finished, the man fumbled through his pockets, bringing out nothing but lint and a few coins.

"How can I pay?" he asked.

Tega waved him off. "Don't worry about it. It's on the house."

The man smiled faintly, letting out a short, raspy laugh. His bloodshot eyes fixed on Tega. "If you were given a second chance, a new life in a new world, what would you do?"

Caught off guard by the bizarre question, Tega spoke without the slightest change in his expression. "I'd live a quiet life. Somewhere secluded, far away from people and war."

The man's gaze sharpened. "But what if that new life threw you into another war? One where you had the power to change everything?"

Subconsciously, Tega's expression darkened as memories of his past flooded his mind. "I'd try to end it quickly. Minimize the suffering."

"They need you in Arcania. Now more than ever," the man muttered, letting out another unsettling laugh as he rose to leave the bar.

Watching the man leave with his words swirling in his mind, Tega brushed it off as the ramblings of a drunk man. Locking up, he headed straight to bed, unaware that this night would be the start of something far bigger than himself.