Isekai Hero Bartender

I had to open the kitchen door by shoving on it with my shoulder. The muted smells of sweet brine and savory fruits greeted me. The counters, which used to show the sins of weeks’ worth of error, now shined spotlessly. A coordinated mis en place supported Wynnie’s efficient movements around the room.

She regarded me skeptically, no doubt due to my sweaty, bedraggled appearance. With a groan, I produced one of the knives I’d used for training and placed it on a counter between us. Her skeptical look deepened.

Somehow, after just a couple of hours in the late morning, my whole right arm was sorer than it had been in years. My right hand felt blistered and chafed, like that of a college freshman with no hand lotion. My left hand smarted, too, though I hadn't used it as much. I’d have blisters, no question.

Holding the handle of a knife as I ripped it from its sheath, then jabbed it into wood, was quite the workout. I could only imagine how sore I would've been if I'd taken Shivai up on that opportunity to spank her, too.

Wynnie grabbed the knife and inspected the pitted metal, trying not to look too disappointed. "Why is this kitchen knife so dull?"

"Dull" was an understatement. It was closer to a spatula than a blade. I’d rounded the tip and bent the blade to where it looked like a flimsy metal cravat. The edge would struggle to cut peanut butter.

"I can get you a new one, promise. I didn't realize we'd be using it to, um… turn an evergreen into kindling."

"No, it's fine. We have plenty of spares."

I looked at the food prep Wynnie was handling. She'd gotten good, and fast. After embracing her cold powers, her entire workflow in the kitchen had changed, and so had her creativity and fluency with it. It wasn't just that she no longer burned stews—no, now she was riffing on the raw recipes I’d pioneered, turning them into her own.

Every day, she came up with a new twist on something. Instead of a single, bombproof crudo recipe, she was playing around. One day it was pickled apple and rhubarb with apple cider vinegar, and the next it was pear with balsamic and honey.

She took the knife I still held in my hand, inspected it, and chucked it in the trash.

"At least we can afford new ones now. Although next time you go out training with Shivai, how about you use some of her daggers instead of my cutlery?"

"Probably for the best. Those things are actually made for sheathing and stabbing.” They also looked expensive and hard to replace though, so I could see why she’d started me with cutlery. “Also, I suspect my hands would revolt if I tried to hold kitchen utensils like weapons again."

"How are her hands? Are they all calloused and tough from doing the same things she had you doing?"

I thought back to our time training. Surprisingly, I hadn't noticed any leathery or uncomfortable qualities to the skin on her fingers. If anything, they looked as soft and delicate as what you'd expect from a sensuous, passionate artist.

"Actually, she spent the whole time drawing glyphs. I think she's taking this rune-scribe thing pretty seriously."

Wynnie arched a brow. "Well, here's hoping she can figure it out soon. According to some sailors who just got in from port today, it looks like the next couple of days are supposed to be even hotter. Having even a single working rune to store my mana might keep this whole place cool enough to prevent people from getting ill."

It was just my luck that I’d woken in a world where magic didn’t play by the same rulebook I’d memorized. Shivai and Wynnie already had plans for how to use their innate ability to wield mana. I was feeling left out.

Especially after playing a wizard.

Magic was always supposed to be my thing! And now, even though I was a Reborn—something supposedly meaningful here—I was still a magicless bartender. All the cool training I was doing was with swords and kitchenware.

Still, maybe, even though my intelligence stat probably wasn’t much to brag about, maybe I could learn something. If not a cantrip, then at least a parlor trick.

"I wish I could practice magic," I grumbled. "Drawing that glyph was kind of fun. I wonder if I could do any better a second time."

Wynnie's hands paused mid-slice. A thin sheet of raw fish fell next to her knife on the cutting board. She glanced back demurely over her shoulder.

"You know, there is a way for you to improve your mana, right?"

"How so?"

“The main problems are that you don’t have enough mana, and you can’t control it very well. Even if you carved a perfect rune, it could only do so much.”

“Sure, rub it in,” I half-teased. I knew she didn’t mean to leave it at that, but it still stung.

"That’s where the final part comes in."

"Which is?"

She chewed her lip, considering her next words carefully. Without a sound, she set down her knife, wiped her hands on her apron, and turned to give me her full attention.

"You need stronger emotions. And more of them. You know, I've been thinking about what Shivai said. About starting a harem, I mean." Slowly, she began arranging the sliced fish on a large prep tray. "If magic is important to you, maybe a harem is worth exploring.”

My shoulders felt stiff, and suddenly, I realized I’d been holding the muscles in my hands completely rigid. It wasn’t just because Wynnie’d done a miraculous job of keeping the kitchen frigid. The shiver threatening to take over had nothing to do with temperature.

My nerves fired with good, old-fashioned nerves. Every mention of additional partners flooded me with conflicting feelings of guilt and excitement. I dared to dream of best-case scenarios.

And yet…

“Harem means more than two, right?”

“Women? Yes. In this world, we call any three-person relationship a throuple. I know. Silly word,” she laughed almost self-consciously. “But that’s technically not a harem.”

“So, you’re thinking someone other than…”

“Other than Shivai?” She set the tray aside and read my reaction. “Eventually. There’s no rush. No need to force anything. Just, if something feels right, then let’s talk about it, yeah?”

“Sure, yeah.” I furrowed my brow in thought, doing my best to read Wynnie‌ the way she’d just read me. Whatever my insight check rolled, I didn’t know the DC. She seemed honest. “You don’t think two is plenty?”

She signed. “For magic? Or in general? Either way, it might be worth exploring. Perhaps I wouldn’t go anywhere, but I'd hate to prevent you from trying."

I swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"

"Only if it's what you want. But it could unlock magic. And having more love in one’s life is never a bad thing." She tucked a strand of hair behind one pointed ear and shrugged, allowing a small smile to curl the corners of her lips. "For me, I think I’d like that. Family means everything to elves. And harem means family."

Ultimately, I knew this decision came down to me. Wynnie had made her stance clear, though it had definitely evolved over the last few days.

Part of me had always wondered if my relationship struggles in the past were because I’d struggled with monogamy. An actual harem sounded overwhelming, but only when thinking about it in the abstract. When I considered only the women I knew, it sounded much simpler.

Shivai might be a scoundrel, but she had a heart of gold—and a big one at that. The more I spent time with her, the more I realized she was just 110 pounds of emotions crammed into a 100-pound body, which might explain the impressive swells of her breasts. And though she might have a sinful appearance, there was an earnest woman underneath. The way she approached art, the reckless abandon with which she'd attempted to help us in the weeds during service, and even her weird teaching and coaching style—they all showed who she really was.

One thing was for certain: I might not know if Shivai was about to become the next great love of my life, but I wanted to take that next step to find out. If she and Wynnie were on the same page, then it was time to read the next chapter of our story together.

“You’re not worried about, um, having less time with me?”

Wynnie’s smile told me everything. “No. The two of you already spend time together. And you’re out there training with Lady Talia all the time. It’s not like we’re joined at the hip.”

“True. But what if there are, um, problems? Competition? Uh,” I didn’t want to say the word, but it came out anyway, “drama?”

Another reassuring smile. “Remember when I told you about mana alignment? How people tied by a soulbond senesce differently together?” Wynnie mixed a few liquids together with a tiny whisk and set it to the side while I vaguely remembered what she’d told me. “When two people love each other very much—or three people, or four—their mana sort of blends, almost.”

“Like, a shared pool?”

“Not quite, but close enough. You couldn’t wield mine, but it’d run through you. The closer we are, and the more time we spend together, the stronger the effect,” she explained.

“Uh huh. Of course. So, this is like one of those HaremLit novels where, the more we have sex the more mana we exchange, and the better we’re all aligned?”

She clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! Exactly! I’ve never heard of HaremLit, but it must be very wise and meaningful stuff.”

So, this was one of those isekai situations. I’d read a few on my Kindle before going to bed, and I had a guilty spot for them. Well, there was no reason to overthink things now. Wynnie’d just given me a lot to think about, and I needed a rinse, some protein to recover from my workout, and possibly a nap.

I stole a slice of raw fish from the counter and brought it to my mouth. Wynnie stopped me with a scolding hiss.

"Not like that! Add a bit of the dipping sauce first."

A mixing bowl full of translucent, multicolored liquid sat to the side, a whisk sticking out from it at a lopsided angle. With a spoon, I ladled a small portion of the liquid on top of the fish, like dipping sashimi into soy sauce. I took a bite.

"Damn, Wynnie. You got really good at cooking, you know?"

"I'm glad you like it! I just come into the kitchen and I think, what would Drew do?"

"And then you do that?"

"No, and then I try to add one more thing on top of it to make it ours instead. Adding one more thing into the mix hasn't overcomplicated things so far. If anything, it just makes everything deeper, richer, and more memorable." She winked.

I don't know if she was going for subtext or for cooking philosophy, but she was onto something. The food was amazing.

“Our guests tonight are going to love it,” I said.

“Speaking of tonight, Yvonne stopped in while you were out. She says they’d love to host for dinner tonight. I have to provide board for our customers, but… maybe you’d think about it?”

Maybe I would. Before I left, I stole one more slice of crudo and ladled some liquid on top.

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