Arswen was ecstatic to see his older brother was back. Arsral was more reserved but his joy was no less genuine. That night, Aunt Detion came over for dinner as well.

Arslop revealed himself to be a straight-laced and formal guy, who succumbed all too easily to Aunt Detion’s teasing. By the end of the dinner, his red face seemed like it would never go back to normal. I could almost feel his relief when the door banged open to let some young men in.

“Arslop, my good man!” they’d yelled. I recognised them as occasional customers of the shop. I checked their statuses. Richas and Kiam, the blacksmith’s apprentices.

They were old friends of Arslop apparently, and dragged him out for a round or two of drinks at the tavern. Arslop was unwilling but caved in after an ‘ohoho, young men should go out and have fun’ from Aunt Detion.

The equivalent of winter solstice was approaching, the sun setting far earlier than it had any right to. And drunks do not good navigators make, especially not in the dark.

And that’s how, just before midnight, I was sent to bring Arslop’s presumably drunk ass home.

“Are you sure he’s too drunk to get home by himself? He doesn’t seem the type to enjoy getting piss-drunk.”

Of course, Arswen was sent with me.

“Lop doesn’t, but his friends sure do. And he gets a little… competitive after he’s had a bit.”

“Competitive?”

“Drinking contests.”

“Ah.”

We arrived at the Dancing Lizapier. Most of the patrons were beginning to make their way out. Arslop was not one of them.

A group of men in their 20s were gathered around a table in the back, chanting ‘Drink! Drink! Drink!’. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of cheap beer and vomit permeating the tavern.

“Smells nasty. Do we really gotta go in there? Maybe he’s gone home already and we just missed him. Why don’t we just go home? Doesn’t that sound like a far better idea?”

In response, Arswen grabbed my arm and tugged me inside. He, unfortunately, headed straight for the table in the back.

Uuugghh. It stiiiiinks.

“Lop! Hey, Lop!”

Arswen pushed between two men, dragging me with him.

“Don’t mind us, just coming through to pick up a guy,” I told them.

Unfortunately, Arslop was one of the two seated at the table drinking. And judging from the empty mugs around him, he’d been there for a long time. Just as he lifted the mug to shake the last droplets into his mouth, his opponent’s head slammed into the table, out cold. The spectators roared. One of them grabbed his arm and lifted it into the air.

“The reigning champion, Arslop!”

The cheers of the dozen or so men around the table drowned out Arswen telling Arslop to ‘stop drinking already and come home’. He pouted and jabbed me in the side.

“Ow.”

“Do something!”

“Do we have any other challengers?”

And that was my cue. Before the clamour could start again, I spoke up.

“Alright, good drink, good contest, competition, whatever,” I said. “But it’s getting really late, and his brothers want him home now.”

I took advantage of my height to push everyone out the way, Arswen following behind me. I took Arslop from the announcer and draped his arm over my shoulder. He was even heavier than I thought he’d be.

The crowd grumbled but let us go easily enough. Arslop mumbled dazedly. Just when I thought we weren’t going to have any problems, Arslop’s previously unfocused eyes focused on me.

“Hey, I n’you,” he slurred. Then, in a clearer voice, “I know you!”

“I would hope so. I introduced myself just today.”

“Yer, yer whose friend!”

“I’m… a lot of people’s friend?”

“Whose friend!”

It took me a moment to realise he wasn’t saying ‘whose friend’, but ‘Heouie’s friend’. Goddamn drunk inarticulation.

“What, no! I told you already, I’m not!”

“Yer Heouie’s friend!”

I gave up and just let his drunk ass keep repeating that. It wasn’t really causing any problems for me anyway. And just as I thought that, it caused a problem.

“Heouie’s friend, I challenge you to a drinking contest!”

Biiiiiiiiiiiitch!

“I’m 16.”

“Joan, here, you can drink as soon as you’re 15,” Arswen whispered.

Fuck! In Australia it’s 18, and some people already consider that early!

I was going to ignore him and lug him out of the tavern anyway, but even a shitfaced Arslop was stronger than me. He pulled me back and forced me to sit in the seat. The previously dispersing spectators came back, already making bets.

The announcer called over another round of the drink from the tavern mistress who was shaking her head but brought them over anyway.

“On one side we have the undefeated champion, Arslop!”

The spectators cheered.

“On the other we have a newcomer picked out by the champion himself! It’s going to be a close competition, boys. Arslop’s drunk a lot already, but this newbie looks like just a sip would knock him out!”

“Yes, and that’s exactly why there will be no-”

My attempt to stop this was interrupted by Arslop slamming a full mug down in front of me. A bit of liquid sloshed out of the cup and onto my shirt, but I paid no attention to it. Arslop had somehow regained lucidity and was now giving me the scariest glare I’d ever been subjected to.

“Drink.”

Scary! Super scary! The fuck!

I quietly took hold of the mug.

“And… start!”

I took a sip. It tasted just as bad as it smelled. I tried to drink it as slowly as possible, but it just wasn’t possible under Arslop’s unbroken glower. Even as he drunk, he still somehow found the energy to glare at me. As the silent pressure bore down on me, I sweated nervously and drunk faster.

The first mug left me feeling a lightheaded. The second mug had me nauseous and sweating from the building heat. I tugged my collar away from my neck as the next mug was set in front of me.

I did not want to get blackout drunk.

Ah, shit. Is there any way to like, speed up my metabolism?

Figuring there was no harm in trying, I visualised Demon Flames in my stomach, then spreading out and circulating through my body to end up at my liver. That was where the alcohol was processed, right? I wish I’d paid more attention in PDHPE. I made sure to wrap my liver up in flames and tried to will the drunkenness away.

Miraculously, it worked. It probably shouldn’t have, but ~magic~.

Skill proficiency reached. [Iron Liver] has reached Level 1.

Sweet.

I drank my third mug and continued channelling Demon Flames throughout my body. Another mug was pushed at me.

As I continued drinking, [Iron Liver] levelled up. Arslop seemed angry that I hadn’t passed out yet, which, too bad for him. The spectators were astonished. Bets were changed, support evened out.

By the sixth mug, Arslop could barely lift his head. I still felt fine, though I did feel the need to pee.

Halfway through the seventh mug, Arslop collapsed.

Finally!

“And the winner is, uh...”

“Joan,” I supplied.

“Joan! Our dark horse, Joan! There you have it boys, Joan is our winner! Now, if our next challenger will-"

“Nope.”

I pushed a hand into the announcer’s face.

“We're going home now, bye, see you never.”

I hauled the unconscious Arslop up and made my long delayed exit. Arswen, after making sure his brother hadn't left anything behind, followed.

The walk back was significantly harder than the walk to due to the deadweight of Arslop. I cursed him out in my mind.

You're so lucky I got [Iron Liver], or else neither of us would be sober enough to get back home and then where would we be? Bitch.

Arsral was not at all pleased with his older brother's state of drunkenness. Arslop woke up briefly just to be scolded.

Then the problem of accommodation came up. Arsral wanted to just leave Arslop on the sofa, but I felt that was a little harsh. I was the one who'd displaced Arslop anyway. In the end, it was decided that just for tonight, I would share the room with Arslop and we could work something out tomorrow.

Besides, someone had to make sure he didn't die by suffocating on his vomit or something.

Getting the oldest brother up the stairs was a chore and a half but I persevered. Arswen was kind enough to have opened the door for me, and with one last effort, I managed heave most of Arslop onto the bed.

I rested my hands on my hips and cracked my back.

“Are all adult men this goddamn heavy?” I muttered, rolling my shoulders. Arslop let out a loud snore.

Great. So much for sleeping.

With a grunt, I tugged his shoes off. I took ahold of his legs and dragged them onto the bed.

Uh... what position are you supposed to put a drunk person in again? Really should have paid more attention to that one incursion.

It was probably the recovery position. I did my best to put him in it, then conjured a plastic bucket to put by the bedside.

That's right, [Conjure] had levelled up enough that I could make plastic now.

“Urggh...”

Just in time. Any later and Arslop would have seen.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” I told him. “You still drunk?”

In response, he vomited. On me.

“Dude!”

Bitch! I screeched internally. Disgusting!

I stripped and frantically cast [Clean] over and over until all the vomit was gone. It was low level, so one casting would only clean up so much. Not for the first time, I was grateful for the Demon Flames.

Arslop, that fucker, had fallen back asleep. I was tempted to leave him uncleaned, but the smell would affect me as well.

My shirt was now clean. There was nothing stopping me from putting on. Nothing physical, at least.

Psychologically, it was a different matter. Despite knowing that it was clean, my brain refused to acknowledge it as wearable until it had been properly washed.

I glared at Arslop and flicked him on the forehead.

“[Clean]”

I probably shouldn’t have flicked him on the head, because it woke him up again.

“Mm…”

I drew back quickly and watched him warily.

“If you puke on me again, I’m kicking you off the bed,” I warned him. He just looked at me blearily before a hint of recognition entered his eyes.

“…Heouie’s friend…”

For fuck’s sake!

I threw my hands up in the air before deciding it was no use arguing with a drunkard. I rolled my eyes.

“Fine, yes. I’m Heouie’s friend. Now are you going to vomit or not? Because I’d like to make sure it’s not all over me this time.”

“Urgghh, gotta ----…"

The last part was too quiet for me to hear, so I leaned in closer, ignoring his stinky breath.

“Say that again?”

“Gotta, arrest you…”

Wait, what?

I was fast in drawing back, but Arslop was faster. He grabbed my neck and pulled me into a headlock. I fell on top of him and scrabbled at his restraining arm.

“I give, I give!” I wheezed. “Have mercy!”

His arm loosened and I gasped for breath.

“Okay, that was uncalled for. Now let me go.”

No answer. I pushed at his arm but it wouldn’t budge. Looking up, I realised with dismay that he’d fallen back asleep.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I groaned. I checked his status. His was 248. Mine was only 60.

I tried everything I could to escape anyway. [Gut Punch], [Low Blow], pure stubbornness. Without Kuro’s [Amplify], nothing worked. His was just too high for my wimpy Level 8 ass.

I stared up at the ceiling. Should I call for Kuro? I thought about it, then decided—no. This was fine.

Part of it was because I didn’t want to wake the others up. A larger part of it was because realising that he’d been sleeping in the same bed as a shirtless girl while holding her close would definitely send Arslop into a fluster, and I wanted revenge.

Also, I hadn’t had the chance to activate the heating stone and Arslop was warm. But mostly because of revenge.

I pulled the blanket over us as best I could and got comfortable. In the middle of devising lines for tomorrow’s little show, I drifted off.