Somewhere in the multiverse, there is a bar.

It's small—the kind of a hole-in-the wall place which you might find open late at night while walking down the streets of Canterlot City in the 1920's… and a certain sturdiness to it. Resilient.

But unlike most bars, this one is not actually there… or rather, not where creatures think it is.

The entrance to Sunset's Isekai can only be found in passing, and from the corner of the eye, an archway made stone, emerging from a wall where nothing was before, and in fact seems impossible to actually lead anywhere.

A door of solid oak—lovingly worked and stained to look almost golden-red—with a thick, crystal version of her cutie mark at eye level awaits visitors under the soft light of a gas lamp. A small wooden blackboard with a crayon-drawn cocktail glass with a ying-yang sun on it instead of a lemon wedge invites creatures in with the promise of a good time.

This door opens to all worlds, and can only be seen by those that need a drink. And they need that drink to be just the right type of different.

The bar's doors, once opened to a customer, will always be open to them when they need to step away. The interior of the bar is simple… a narrow hall with four tables to the right of the entrance—all in a line—designed for no more than two guests per table. The bar itself is long, made of wood and black leather, and allows for about ten more guests to sit down there, facing the bartender, before it ends by curving into the corner of the room, right next to the hallway where the restrooms are and across from the old jukebox.

The jukebox itself is an interesting device—with a magical sensor that plays just the right song at the right time. Or so it says in the instruction manual.

The restrooms are serviceable, single-entity. Kept clean by techno-magical means, and tastefully decorated to match the theme of the bar itself.

The walls of Sunset's Isekai are brick and mortar, with panels made of dark, almost black, wood, decorated only with a couple of guitars, and several empty frames, save for one picture of the proud owner and her patron.

Behind the bar itself, a considerable assortment of drinks and glasses extends all the way down to the end of the establishment, stopping only where the bar turns in to connect with the wall, four levels high above the sink and containing bottles of all shapes, sizes and prices.

And also behind the bar stands its esteemed owner, cleaning the surface—again—and wondering why she had decided to actually do this in the first place.

"What do you mean by 'forever'?"

Rarity cleared her throat. "Well, darling, I did mention that purchasing this establishment meant that it was yours forever."

Sunset rubbed her temples. "And that, I took to mean that I didn't have to make any further payments!"

"Well, you're not wrong, it just… has some unintended effects."

Sunset stopped rubbing her temples. "Unintended effects?"

"Apparently so." Rarity patted her on the back, then headed for the door. "I'm going to do some PR for the bar, see you soon, darling!"

Sunset shook her head, grumbling under her breath as the memories replayed in her mind, and fondly thinking about choking her business partner to death.

Sunset paused and tapped her chin. "Wait… does that mean I can actually do stuff that would normally kill her and not do damage? What does she even mean by—ugh. No. Bad Sunset! Bad! Now I need a drink."

Just as she was reaching for a bottle, the door to the bar opened, the little silver bell that Rarity had insisted on putting there giving a cheerful, clear, almost crystalline chime as her very first patron entered. Two voices reached her ears, and one person ran past behind her and into the restrooms before she could even turn around.

Sunset forgot her drink, making sure that the bottle was in place before quickly checking her attire—a plain white blouse under a black waistcoat (with a pin of her cutie mark on the lapel), a simple black tie, and a pair of dark slim dress pants—before forcing herself to smile pleasantly at her very first guest.