Transmigration of a Jazz Cafe Owner in a Cyberpunk World

"Have you always talked that way"

"No, only after university. Pretentious, is that the word?"

"I don't mind baby, but isn't that a girls name..Kiki?"

I had lost count at this point. I believe this was around the 7th drunken lady that I had small talk with this night alone.

I manned the bar as usual. Usually there would be three staffed at a time at the Kiki Jazz Cafe, but it was nearing midnight and I couldn't be bothered to pay the others when the workload was minimal this late.

It was a small joint, and whisps of smoke would pillar from the cigs of the stale, unkept bachelors that took up the majority of tables at the more degen hours. Only a few lamps were on at this hour, and a warm glow colored our faces a shade of orange.

The girl in front of me continued murmuring nonsense and I couldn't be bothered to keep up the chatter.

"Look, it's getting late. I'm going to clean out back. You need a drink or anything?" I asked politely.

Her brows furrowed, and she seemed to see right through my intention. "Fine, I was on my way out anyway.."

She pushed away from the bar table and strutted, her steps unsure and wavering, out of the door with the bell jingling. I sighed and grabbed a broom, one more hour till close.

Ding, Ding

The last two stragglers pushed out the door and I looked, dejected, at the 6 beer bottles and multitude of soggy cigarettes they left on their table.

"Assholes.." I muttered, broom in hand.

I assumed that the two at this table were the last customers, yet a voice rose up from behind me.

"Depravity is a necessary pitstop in the cycle of the human condition…isn't it?"

I whipped around, startled, and saw the outline of a man sitting in one of the back corner booths.

I inquired as I walked closer. "I'm not sure what you mean. And, sorry, but the cafe closed a couple minutes ago."

A small smile carved out of the man's shadow. "Oh never mind that. I was just finishing this cup" he said.

As I got closer, his figure became clearer in the subtle light. I found myself gazing incredulously at the man in front of me.

He sported a cherry red tuxedo and a matching top hat. His waist was pinned tight by a white corset, and he had long, raven black hair that curled around his sharp eyes and sprawled across his shoulders. On top of all that, he held an espresso up to his lips…An espresso. At 1 in the morning. Now I know who made me boot up the machine so damn late.

Although late-night coffee enjoyers weren't exactly unicorns, the outfit in combination transcended by expectations. 

Now standing just about in front of his table, I began to collect his plate and pitcher of cream as he started up again. "I've always adored this...hole in the wall...is that what they call these types?" 

I responded curtly, hoping my exhausted tone hastened his departure. "I don't recall every seeing you around here. I'm sure I would notice your, uhm, cosmetic tendencies."

His eyes brightened at my confusion, and I dreaded his inability to take a hint. 

"Some call me a magician, if that helps" he said.

"I guess that makes sense...do have a store around here?" I asked. 

"Oh, how'd you guess? Though, no, not around here. Far, far away as a matter of fact. Do YOU have a store around here?" he joked. 

"Hm, well if you want to come back when we open at 7 AM you are welcome to. Or drop by when the live quartet plays at sunset." 

"I'll be long gone by then" he laughed. "But...you'll do, I see the potential. Now, pardon me, I have a train to catch."

Before I could further speak the man bolted up and ran out the door, knocking over the table in the process.

"What the hell is going on today" I muttered. 

After bolting the entrance shut after the strange man's departure, I came back over to gingerly pick the table back up and wipe it down. Minutes later, after closing the register and cleaning the rest of the cafe, I saw the glint of an object near the entrance. I bent down to throw it away before identifying it as some sort of ID. Curious, I looked closer at the picture. And there I saw a familiar face framed with wavy dark hair and a red collar.

Alongside his picture, I looked curiously at the information.

Giovanni Watanabe

Watanabe Arcane Enterprises

112 N. Clark Rd,

Stonewall, Estrella 

What a curious name, and Stonewall? Estrella? And here I thought my high marks in geography meant a damn thing. Both the city and nation evaded any of my previous knowledge. 

Before I pocketed the card, I flipped it over and back again, this time focusing on 'Watanabe Arcane Enterprises'

"A Magician, huh? Maybe I'll visit sometime." 

~~~

30 minutes later, once everything was spotless and inventory was stocked for the morning shift, I happily retreated to the break room. Taking Norwegian Wood  from my bag, I settled down, ripped open a new pack of Seven Stars, and puffed out my own pillar of smoke as I opened the novel for my 10th reread. 

And, before I knew it, I fell into a deep sleep. Perhaps too deep, because not long after dawn, I awoke to hell let loose.