Mitsuba
Damn. If she was poor, then no hope in wriggling out too much of money from her. Maybe the Unchained could create money out of thin air in a way, but she shouldn't do it too often. To keep up her facade of a proprietor of a modest bar, she shouldn't seem to be too affluent.
"Alright, I'm sure you'll afford it. My place is not some rip-off establishment." But it totally was, she was just... flexible depending on the customer.
"The place's eastwards, the western outskirts of East Asian Special Ward. But many people just call it Asian District." The demon explained as they walked there. Huh, it looked like nothing unusual happened. People were not running away and screaming, and it did not look like the district was set on fire or something. That made her cautiously optimistic about going back there.
When they neared the place, Mitsuba couldn't help but feel that something was wrong. The street was empty as if either people just left or locked themselves in their homes for a sake of safety. The familiar stench of blood reached her nostrils, and the source was in her bar.
Shit.
"Misaka-san, please stay here, I will go ahead and check what happened there." She said in a serious voice, and disassembled her large umbrella to get her katana out. "The first rule of this city, it's smart to keep a weapon on you somewhere. Just in case."
Her sword drawn, she stepped into the interior of the bar. Many corpses were strewn across the floor, butchered and dissolving. Whoever killed them, he made a poor job, leaving so much evidence behind. She was disgusted, not because she cared about the victims (she cared more about her place's reputation being ruined by such act), but because the murder wasn't done in elegant and subtle way.
Fucking amateurs! She thought in indignation. Her memory stretched as back as she could remember her last iteration as an Angel. She was a design that proved to be successful, mindwiped and reprogrammed for every mission. An angel of death, made for close combat assassination, but programmed for subtle missions and overengineered to be a versatile weapon. That is, until the last target could not be slain without subtlety in the end, and her creator hastily changed parameters of the mission. The Lambent Sword of Heaven, by that time obsessed enough about fulfilling her mission as it was originally set, glitched and Fell, prioritizing the original order over the new one. Of course she had no choice but evade the pursuit, but once things relatively calmed down, she killed the target months later, without any proof that it was her doing. Whatever hand of fate shielded the person, it retracted its protection later on.
But not only bodies were strewn along. She could notice empty bottles of sake littering around the floor. Actually, she couldn't give a fuck about some dead people if they committed even worse offense. They touched the stuff and clearly didn't pay for it! She could hear voices of laughters of some drunken fools. Clearly the couple of culprits behind this assault on her property. Those chucklefucks were in her dojo, behind closed doors.
"THE PARTY TIME'S OVER!" She shouted, shattering the door with her kick, partly to intimidate them and partly to vent off her rage. Assassination wasn't an option here anyway, as her customer could spot her, so she put on a show to confront burglars directly.
