Ch.13Two Face’s Guests – Branch Manager of Dragon’s Lair Bank, New York

The sound of a telephone echoes through the mountainside in northern New York, an area untouched by development. It rings persistently from within a massive cave, as if urging something sleeping inside to wake.

No ordinary person would live in such a place. Humans seemed unable to survive unless crowded together in cities, and while elves occasionally sought out mountains like these, even they had grown accustomed to urban comforts long ago. The only species that would carve out caves to live in were dragons.

A lair in these mountains, within reasonable commuting distance to New York, commanded quite a premium price. But few dragons who had lived for hundreds of years failed to become wealthy.

At the sound of the ringing telephone, a massive dragon stirs inside the cave. An enormous amount of mana is drawn in with its breath, and the massive body compresses into the small form of a human.

The dragon had once purchased a telephone designed for dragons, but despite pouring money into it, forcing such intricate technology to be enlarged had resulted in a crude device.

Since then, he’d been putting up with the inconvenience of properly polymorphing before answering calls.

When polymorphed, the dragon resembled an orc. Standing a good 7 feet tall, with skin that followed his original scale color of deep red, and sharp pupils that couldn’t be hidden no matter how he transformed… While quite different from typical orcs, people didn’t give him strange looks as long as he wore sunglasses.

His hand picks up the telephone. The time was 5:30. His voice was still groggy, so he clears his throat a couple of times before speaking.

“Yes, this is Draig Koch. Who is this at such an early hour?”

Through the static on the receiver, he could hear his secretary’s voice. Was there business this early in the morning? Hopefully not a robbery.

“Branch manager! I, well…”

“I know who you are just by your voice, so just tell me what’s going on. What happened?”

“Ah, yes! Well, there was a break-in at our northern Queens branch overnight… We’ve already reported it to the police, but you should come quickly. The branch staff is in chaos…”

Damn, nothing works properly when I’m not around. The dragon blocks the flame mixed in his sigh with his hand to avoid burning the phone, then regains his composure and answers.

“I’ll be right there. First, check the amount of damages and cooperate fully with the police. Don’t call me just to hear the obvious. Understood?”

The dragon couldn’t understand short-lived species. If money disappeared from his wallet overnight, he would simply think about how much was gone, where it went, and who took it, but they just panicked and didn’t know what to do.

Still, Draig didn’t dislike these short-lived beings. As a dragon who had lived for hundreds of years, he had seen people in armor riding horses transition to traveling by trains and cars—how could he dislike them?

His suit and sunglasses would be at the airport anyway. After releasing the polymorph he had maintained to answer the phone, he reveals his original form, large enough to fill the entire spacious and comfortable cave.

He stretches his body fully before flight, extending his two front legs and spreading his wings. There were no muscle cramps, and his body wouldn’t be shocked by suddenly rising into the cold air.

He walks out of his lair. Some old forest still remained here. Though the trees were all young things that hadn’t lived even a hundred years, there were enough bears and wolves to prove it.

A grizzly bear flees at the sight of the dragon. Had it already woken from hibernation? Perhaps that was possible if it had been hibernating near the lair of a fire-breathing red dragon.

In any case, there was one last thing to do before taking flight. He gathers mana in his head along with his breath and checks whether there are any other dragons already flying in the sky nearby.

A mid-air collision could lead to disaster, so taking off without this procedure was illegal. Not that many dragons would ignore the law anyway.

The surrounding sky was quiet. The wind was blowing pleasantly, and the updrafts seemed suitable for an easy takeoff. He expels mana to reduce gravity, then leaps into the air with flapping wings.

First, he slowly rides the updrafts to reach a sufficiently high altitude. Short-lived species were so fragile that they could be harmed just by dragons flying at low altitudes over urban areas.

Now at an altitude where the air was properly cold, he sets his direction and begins flying toward the airport. Though the air was cold enough for frost to form, it wasn’t enough to create rime on a fire dragon’s body; rather, the air warmed as it passed him.

As he flies until the New York cityscape becomes faintly visible below the clouds, a young human voice begins to sound in the dragon’s mind.

It was the air traffic controllers at New York airport. Since dragons were the only beings that flew through the sky, those skilled in telepathic magic became controllers to help prevent accidents in the air.

Still, short-lived species were short-lived species. Both the quality of their mana and magic were poor, making the voice quite staticky. It was impressive for a short-lived being to project their voice this far, but that was the extent of it.

“Ah, ah… unidentified dragon, can you confirm your dragon registration number?”

Magic really isn’t for short-lived species to use. I could clearly see everything from the controller nervously sitting in the control tower to the sharp creases in his collar, yet he couldn’t see me.

“Control tower, registration number 00116, Draig Koch. I’m heading to the airport on urgent business. I doubt there are any other dragons in flight at this hour.”

“00116, there is one more dragon currently flying to the airport. Can you confirm?”

Nothing I can’t do. Once again gathering mana, he absorbs information from his surroundings. Though quite distant, there was indeed another dragon flying toward the airport. Clean silver scales… ah, yes. A dragon he knew.

“Control tower, this is 00116. Confirmed. It’s a dragon I know, so may I request permission to communicate directly?”

“00116, you may proceed directly if you allow me to listen in. At the current rate, that dragon will arrive before you, so you’ll need to wait in the airspace above the airport.”

I can’t do that when short-lived beings at the bank need me urgently. Keeping the telepathic link extended to include the controller, he calls out to the dragon flying from Long Island toward the airport.

If it’s a silver-scaled dragon, it must be one named Kanhel, whom he had seen at the centennial dragon gathering. Was he also a banker? That must be it.

“Kanhel, it’s Draig. You haven’t forgotten seeing me 24 years ago, have you? Did you get robbed too?”

We dragons have excellent memories. For dragons who live a thousand years, failing to remember something from 24 years ago would be nothing short of rude.

The telepathic response comes back. Unlike the controller’s voice, it was as clear as if they were having a face-to-face conversation.

“Draig! No, we weren’t robbed. I heard one of your branches was hit, so I’m heading out to check if ours are alright. Ah, you must be busy. I’ll wait above the airport, so land first.”

Though only about two hundred years old—quite young for a dragon—he had a good personality. Offering kindness without being asked was practically a virtue among dragons.

“Thank you. I’ll buy you a drink at Two Face tonight.”

“Such repayment for a simple courtesy. See you tonight, friend.”

He increases the speed of his wingbeats and flies toward the airport. He continued exchanging telepathic messages with the controller, who was clearly a novice with awkward technique.

Still, short-lived species develop at an astonishing rate. Unlike dragons who might idle for decades, they learn and improve quickly in their match-stick-short lives.

That’s why Draig liked these short-lived beings. Even the novice controller was visibly becoming more comfortable communicating telepathically with dragons.

Upon reaching the airspace above the airport, a silver-scaled dragon was slowly circling high in the sky, yielding his turn to Draig. After sending another telepathic message of thanks, Draig descends toward the open area of the airport.

Since he couldn’t completely destroy the ground, he lands gently while flapping his wings. With his wings folded, he crosses the line marked “Please polymorph beyond this point” and compresses his body into human form again.

He puts on his suit and sunglasses in the airport changing room. Now it was time to return to daily life. It looked like it would be a terribly busy day.

And that prediction proved absolutely correct. Since the break-in had been done without using magic, there were no clues to follow even for a dragon skilled in magic, and the Queens northern branch manager knew nothing.

After contacting police officers he knew to increase the chances of catching the culprit, and even considering hiring private contractors, by the time things settled down somewhat, it was already nearly 8 PM.

Damn it, usually the branch manager job is easier, but today I worked as hard as factory laborers. It was too much for a dragon over six hundred years old. If not for alcohol, that is.

Since revealing one’s true form downtown was a crime, he takes a chauffeured car to Two Face. Bar Two Face was a bar open to any species with two faces. Even the bartender was a werewolf.

He enters the bar with his driver. Perhaps because it operated as a café during the day, the atmosphere wasn’t too depraved. The nightlife of short-lived species was unspeakably vulgar. Truly, unspeakably vulgar.

After showing the doorkeeper an invitation card with a human face on the front and a wolf face on the back, he enters the bar. Immediately, he’s greeted warmly.

With a form mixing wolf and human features, and a voice closer to a growl, the bartender was still a charming person. Even wagging his tail when a familiar customer arrived.

“Why so late today, Draig? Usually you come around four and buy a coffee or two.”

Though he normally preferred larger tables, today he wanted to sit at the bar. Even a dragon over six hundred years old sometimes needs to vent.

“Haven’t you heard the radio news? The Queens northern branch was robbed last night, and today was absolute chaos. So, give me something strong. Yes… a Dragon Slayer.”

The bartender, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, mixes a couple of spirits too strong for short-lived beings to drink, and tops it with a swirl of hot sauce spicy enough to make your tongue tingle.

The bartender, now considerably larger than humans, rests his elbows on the bar and alternates between perking his ears up attentively and relaxing them. Then he speaks in a playful voice.

“Every time I make this, I wonder—isn’t it strange for a dragon to order a cocktail with that name? Oh, and light it yourself, please.”

He breathes a flame-mixed breath over the glass to create a gentle flame, then drinks it down. The taste of strong alcohol masked by spiciness and the lingering flavor of flame was pleasing, though not enough to kill a dragon.

“Can I only find it ironic after you tell me what the most popular cocktail among werewolves is?”

A chuckling laugh escapes from between the bartender’s wolf jaws.

“It is Silver Bullet, actually. Well, seeing humans drink themselves to death, maybe everyone likes things that can kill them. Draig, you have something to vent about, right?”

What an annoyingly perceptive wolf. Not that he disliked this quality. If he did, he wouldn’t have come to this bar in the first place.

“Yes, damn it. Are short-lived species always this indecisive? Sometimes they seem quick to learn, adapt, and apply, but when it comes to situations like this, they’re not just slow—they give up entirely.”

Noticing the dragon’s growl mixing into his voice, the bartender hands him another identical cocktail. Afraid of failing to control the amount if he breathed fire again, he just drinks it straight.

“They must have been shocked too. You might have experienced everything, Draig, but for them, it might be the first time facing such a situation. You know they handle things well once they get used to it.”

“Still. Is a bank robbery or theft such a rare occurrence? They call me at dawn, and when I get there, nothing’s been done…”

The bartender brings out a cocktail that wasn’t ordered. It was still strong enough to intoxicate dragons, but this time with a sweet and sour aroma rising from it.

“But this amazing dragon solved everything with centuries of accumulated wisdom, right? If nobody’s thanking you for such a day, at least the bar should—even if it’s an illegal one.”

Such flattery. He clicks his tongue but doesn’t refuse the cocktail. The fiery sensation of strong alcohol going down his throat gave a sense of liberation similar to breathing fire freely.

“Has someone tried to shut you down again? Just tell me. You know I’m a dragon who could legalize this place if I cleaned out someone’s fortune.”

As dragons age, they earn more money but have fewer places to spend it. They also have to watch their youthful hobbies disappear into the annals of history.

The bartender wags his tail broadly and lets out a laugh mixed with animal sounds.

“If you have money to lobby politicians, just buy us some plants instead. Even though it’s illegal, all sorts of people come here, so we don’t worry much. We even get angel customers occasionally.”

A police officer and angel with a good face, and a fallen angel with a second face that had eaten money—by that logic, fallen angels would also make excellent customers of Bar Two Face. He smiled back.

“This is why I can’t help but like this place. I came in full of irritation, and now I’m smiling. Did you use magic or something?”

“Would anyone use magic hoping not to get caught with a dragon right in front of them? If you find someone that stupid, please call me right away. I’d love to fleece them.”

Just as he was about to burst into laughter with a bit of flame mixed in, the bar door opens again and a man in a clean ivory suit and… sunglasses enters. It was Kanhel.

“Ah, Kanhel. I said I’d buy you a drink, but why are you so late? I thought you’d be waiting here. Give my friend a Dragon Slayer too.”

The dragon with the slick face comes right over and sits next to him. Though he usually acted this smooth, he could be serious when needed—a model dragon if there ever was one.

“Are you trying to kill me as soon as you see my face because I’m late? I was checking the security of our branches, and it was… quite a sight. Why are all short-lived species…”

Seems like dragons all have the same repertoire of complaints. Trying to hold back laughter along with the bartender, he quietly listened to his venting as well.

If thinking about it makes me appreciate finding this bar, then I can’t even hate this damned Prohibition. And so New York’s night deepened.