Isekai Hero Bartender

The casks weren't so heavy that she couldn't move them, but they were heavy enough that she knew she shouldn't try. Her back strained with the effort of dragging one into position behind the bar. Her fingers felt both numb and painful at the same time from gripping the lip of the barrel.

"Hey, let me help!"

Drew tried to step in to give her a hand. Wynnie grunted with effort and nearly bit her tongue off. She could feel sweat spring to her brow, plastering a few stray hairs there.

"I got it! I got it!" Her grip slipped, and the whole barrel wobbled. "Rats! Oh, sugarplums. Okay. You can help."

Drew steadied the wobbling barrel, then checked her fingers to make sure they weren’t hurt. No splinters, and a quick kiss made it all better.

Between the two of them, they hauled the barrel ‌onto the bar top. It settled into a bed of towels that cradled it and kept it from rolling. The bung poked out from the middle, facing the ceiling. The edge of the barrel hung over the bar next to the well. There should be just enough room to set a glass down underneath the spout if they tapped it right.

Currently, they had a much larger vessel, though. A wide, shallow bucket rested underneath the tap hole. It was supposed to catch spills when they hammered in the spigot, but it would also hold cider when they poured it.

That is, if they did this next part right… Whatever it was.

Jacking it, apparently.

She needed to double check about what the process entailed. He’d been clear about it before, but ever since the mix-up with Lady Talia, her mind couldn’t help but go to other places.

"So you want me to just freeze the cider when it comes out?"

"That's the idea. But don't freeze all of it. Just a little layer off the top. You can do that, right?"

“Freeze things?”

“With that level of control.”

"Should be easy enough," she replied. Emphasis on should be. It wasn't like she practiced her magic all that much. It always took the wind out of her to make as much ice as he needed, though she knew that could change with enough practice. "How long is this going to take? How many times am I going to need to freeze it?"

Drew shrugged. "Beats me. I always just bought this stuff in a bottle back on Earth. We'll have to taste as we go, I guess. Jack it till it’s hard enough."

She couldn't help but smile. Typical Drew. He kept saying he didn't want to drink more, but he always found a reason why it was necessary.

Although, come to think of it, there had been fewer outrageously drunken nights lately.

Obviously, the drinking contest with the pirates didn't count.

And aside from the fallout of that, he did seem happier.

Drew brought the spout to the tap hole and squinted, lining up. The held the hammer in his other hand, miming a few practice swings to get his aim right.

"And here we go!"

Drew tapped the spout into the tap hole with a few solid whacks,

Not solid enough.

Immediately, rich, dark golden cider sprayed everywhere. Droplets splattered her uncovered forearms and her pale yellow dress. A fine mist cooled her face, and the semisweet, crisp flavor of bright, warm cider settled on her tongue. She wanted to be mad, but she just couldn’t. Her lips curled into a smile of their own accord, and she licked her lips clean.

"Oh! That's really tasty. And we're going to make something with this?"

"Sure hope so."

"Will it ruin the flavor?"

She didn't like the way he grinned. It could only mean one thing. Whatever magic the barrel held right now, it would soon become something altogether different—and probably less delicious. She could only hope it would merely transform into a different kind of magic.

“Define ruined,” he said.

“Changed from this. It’s perfect as it is.”

“Then I have bad news for you,” he chuckled.

"Will it at least be sweet?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. I've never actually done this before, and I don't know anyone who has. Some sugar will freeze out, but some will definitely remain. It should be a little sweet, at least."

"Just like you." She smiled. "Okay. I'm ready to jack it."

They filled a large tub after securing the tap a little better. A delectable, controlled waterfall filled it quickly. After the bucket had filled to within an inch of the top, he stopped the flow.

Then, just as instructed, she froze a sheet across the top. Together they removed it, placing it into a second, larger bucket on the ground.

"So you're saying this gets the water out but leaves the alcohol in?"

"Yep. Alcohol freezes at a much lower temperature. So the first ice that forms on top should be just water. If we froze the whole thing at once, we'd get alcohol in there too. And I'm guessing your magic is strong enough to freeze alcohol if you're not careful."

"How do we know if the flavor's changing?"

He shrugged. “Taste test, remember?”

“And you want to taste only the final product? You don’t think we should pour ourselves a pint of the good stuff? You know… just to compare?”

The question hung, charged in the air. She could practically see him thinking about it. And she knew all it would take to make him say yes was a simple smile.

Did she want to use that power on him?

Of course she did.

She smiled.

"Yeah, why not? For scientific rigor, of course."

Minutes later, they had filled mugs. She'd chilled it for them, since he insisted it was better that way. She had to admit, it really was. Even though drinking it warm brought out a lot of rich depth and sweetness, drinking it almost ice-cold was a refreshing treat that made her desperately want more

The cider hit her lips again, cool and refreshing. It almost felt hydrating. And she needed it, too. Freezing and refreezing the bucket of cider in front of them was thirsty work.

Whenever she could feel the barest hint of resistance coming from the liquid—when it took more of her energy to chill it to freezing—they'd taste a small cupful.

She could feel it getting stronger, to the point where it rivaled some of the weaker spirits she'd tried.

And then, every time, Drew would make it difficult again. He'd nod with satisfaction and refill the bucket once more. The way he kept topping it up, she started to wonder if the entire barrel could be reduced to a single bucket of remains.

And if so, was the ultimate cost worth it? The barrel had cost a little more than a single gold piece. That sum that used to be nearly unthinkable to her.

And it was going to yield them, what, twelve bottles of this applejack? Maybe fifteen?

It didn't matter, ultimately. What mattered was that she was right there with him, working the tap, peeling layers of ice from the top, and creating something. A few months ago, she would’ve been filling the kitchen with smoke, too overwhelmed to haul the ashes or fiddle with the vent. Her fingers would be sore from paring vegetables for the tiny pot of stew she’d inevitably burn, just in the hopes that a guest would drop in.

She looked around the bar, noting all the changes.

The tousled hair he'd let grow a little longer filled her with warm fuzzies. That lopsided smile that couldn't quite balance on his face when he drank gave her butterflies. He blinked slowly at her, like a contented cat.

In so little time, he'd changed everything.

She looked around the bar. Sunlight beamed in through the windows he’d opened, and the fresh interior paint banished the shadows. The bar and serving area, once dilapidated and pitiable, now looked polished and new.

Sure, they'd started small. Sweeping the floors was a start, and unblocking the flue in the fireplace certainly helped. But the new linens, the cocktails, the sign—it all added up. Slowly, with every shaky swish of a paintbrush or errand with the handcart, they’d turned a burdensome hovel into a place she was proud to call home.

She watched him roll his sleeves up, adding a bit more cider to the pail. A few stray droplets glistened on his bare forearms. As she froze another ring, this time with concerted effort, he chiseled the ice from the edges.

One careful tap at a time. Steady.

There’d been no magic fix. Nothing he’d done was remarkable, though his way with drinks was otherworldly. What he’d really done was help her get back on her feet, and then find her stride. A dreary coastal nowhere with a broken down, overwhelming series of issues was now a sunny refuge.

The perfect place for a new beginning. He’s proven as much for himself.

And for her?

Well, she was starting to see it, too.

“Maybe another quick taste test.” He fumbled for the ladle, and they giggled as he spooned them each a large sip. “Just to make sure we’re not freezing off the flavor.”

Wynnie held out her little teacup. They clinked, made eye contact, and threw back a questionable decision.

The liquid was cold, bracing, and oddly mineral. It still tasted a bit like cider, but heavy and harsh. Yet the burn was clean.

The inn spun slowly. Warmth spread through her fingertips like the magic she’d always envied. But why had she? She made this warmth herself.

“I might have had too much to do science good,” Drew said, shaking head head. “I don’t remember what it’s supposed to taste like.”

“Does it taste good to you?”

“I might’ve had too much to know. It kinda snuck up on me.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“I’m gonna be drunk for service tonight.”

She smiled. “You can’t always let guests have all the fun.”

“I wish you could be out here in the bar with me. I’d have more fun with you.”

She froze another ring into the top of the cider. He cracked the ice indelicately, tossing shards into the nearby bucket.

She wanted to give him everything that she imagined he’d left behind. Everything he thought he couldn’t have. Her body was a start, and the bar just felt right. Her heart was easy to give.

Soon, perhaps, children. The family they’d both lost, they could rebuild. The thought made the tips of her ears go hot.

Maybe not yet.

For now, they had the inn, good food, and drinks that made them silly together. That was enough, almost. There was only one other thing she could hope for. Maybe two. Three, tops.

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