“Please wait a mont. I’ll bring so tea.”
“Oh, thank you. I’m sorry for disturbing you so late at night…”
“I’ve said it before, but sleeping ti doesn’t an much to anyway. Wasn’t it the sa for you, Undertaker?”
“Haha, indeed it is.”
“Please, just have a seat and wait for a bit.”
After guiding the Undertaker to the living room sofa, the Saintess walked to the kitchen with a seemingly unbothered expression and then squatted down.
Her hands completely covered her face.
Of course, she didn’t forget to click the pause button on ti as well.
‘Oh, oh, oh, what should I do?’
‘What should I do?’
Even in her thoughts, her inner voice was a mix of formal and casual speech. Having to flawlessly act out the "Constellations" for 24 hours a day had seeped into her usual manner of speaking.
‘Just now… I caught a faint scent of alcohol.’
The Saintess recalled the mont she greeted the Undertaker at the front door.
Yes, definitely. Although very faint, there was a whiff of alcohol in the air.
It wasn’t unpleasant at all; more like a gentle aroma one might expect from a dimly lit bar.
‘Finished dining with Dang Seo-rin… Didn't go to a pub, but had so drinks? Probably sothing like that.’
In that case, it wouldn’t do to just offer tea; preparing so snacks would be better.
‘Chocolate… I’m out of it. Shrimp crackers? Hmm. Doesn't that feel too old-fashioned? Honestly… After drinking, what kind of snacks go well? I’m not sure.’
Shuffling around, the Saintess stood on her tiptoes, surveying the ceiling. She had a sizeable stash of snacks.
Her colleagues often fancied the Saintess as soone with high-class tastes, but that was a serious misconception.
Using the Undertaker—essentially a top-tier barista—as rely a ‘sowhat tasty instant coffee’ maker revealed just how modest her preferences were.
‘Sothing. If there was sothing I could serve right now that would look stylish… and wouldn’t seem strange. Such a snack!’
Fruits or cheese would have been perfect choices for such a mont, but unfortunately, they weren’t among her ceiling reserves at Yongsan’s residence.
Should she hurry and grab sothing from elsewhere—no, but if the theory that the Undertaker could move even in [Ti Stop] proved true—it would be shaful to keep ti paused just for a snack—
“Huh?”
Rustle.
At that mont, her fingers brushed against sothing deep in the ceiling stock. The packaging had an aluminum-like feel and was roughly square-shaped.
The eternal luxury of the apocalypse.
Ran.
“…….”
Her body stiffened, as if caught in a freeze spell.
Naturally, it wasn’t as if the ran had suddenly declared, ‘Surprise, I was actually dusa!’ and realized its anomalous identity. If it had, her heart wouldn’t be pounding as wildly as it was.
‘Ra, ran….’
Gulp.
Silently, so that no one could hear, but still within the realm her ego and super-ego could always listen to, she muttered internally.
‘Would you like to have so ran before you go, Undertaker?’
Bang!
Unbeknownst to her, she slamd the ceiling shut. Perhaps she had closed it too harshly, as her palm stung from the impact.
Strangely enough, her face also felt feverish, but naturally, it was due to the wind pressure created when she closed the ceiling. There was no room for doubt.
‘Too, too old. It’s too old-fashioned! A person… a human can’t endure such lines!’
She covered her face once more.
‘How do people utter such lines so effortlessly? Shaless, they’re so… incredibly brave.’
Thump, thump, thump.
Her heart was racing in a way she couldn’t quite comprehend. After all, she was the one who had effectively erased the concept of privacy in this world.
She had seen everything there was to see, unflinchingly. Even when observing such scenes, she didn’t particularly get flustered.
Like watching educational footage on insect breeding during a biology class, or nonchalantly hitting the ‘skip’ button.
And yet.
‘Why, over sothing like this? Now, all of a sudden?’
Calm down.
Get a hold of yourself, Jeong Ye-ji.
Realizing her thoughts were not stable, she promptly summoned the personalities of the Constellations. It was an attempt at objective third-party validation.
[‘Saintess of Salvation’ cheers on your love. Love is a wonderful thing permitted by the divine.]
No, the Undertaker has soone nad Dang Seo-rin!
[‘Saintess of Salvation’ notes that she is French. That’s not her concern.]
This is no help!
[‘The Chancellor in Red’ reminds you that romance is a kind of diplomacy. Even if a thod seems old, there’s a reason classics endure.]
You’re French too, aren’t you?
[‘The Chancellor in Red’ disappears into the shadows with a sly grin, as if caught out.]
Stop joking around!
This is genuinely not helpful!
[‘Conqueror of the Alps’ asserts that the word impossible is not in your dictionary.]
That’s Napoleon! Not Hannibal, Napoleon!
[‘The Lord of the Red Horse’ questions that if for love, killing a father and a king is normal, then emotions like a colleague's affection are hardly worth considering.]
[‘The Lord of the Red Horse’ scoffs at the notion of even considering a colleague’s affection as relevant.]
“……”
Jeong Ye-ji suddenly realized.
‘Wait, could it be… all the Constellations I've been portraying are utterly useless when it cos to romantic advice?’
Objective insight, failed.
‘How on earth did Dang Seo-rin manage to invite the Undertaker for a al without trembling even once?!’
‘How does Cheon Yo-hwa rush to link arms with him every ti she sees the Undertaker?!’
‘As for Sim Ah-ryeon… Agh, no need to be impressed by a half-human, half-monster's thought process.’
The Saintess rose to her feet.
Resolutely. Like the 1/1 scale Gundam statue at Odaiba, she stood firm.
Then she retrieved various snacks from the ceiling.
Since it was too much to just toss snacks without opening the packages, she unwrapped them and neatly arranged them in porcelain dishes (which she quickly washed since they hadn’t been used for a while).
초코송이. Spicy Shrimp Crackers. Potato Chips. Since we’ll need to use chopsticks for the potato chips. Digestives... no. Let's exclude them. They feel a bit redundant with the choco pies. And, and, and...
“……”
Rustle.
Ran. Not cooked, but raw ran. Crushed into a quarter-size piece and quietly nestled among the other snacks... This should do.
‘De, decoration.’
The Saintess nodded to herself.
‘This is decoration. Raw ran also has a role as a snack. It’s a different genre from cooked ran. Therefore... this is not a shady or indecent purpose snack.’
It was perfectly logical.
Even Descartes and Kant would rise from their graves with standing ovations upon realizing that pure reason resided here.
‘And for the tea... green tea? Even though it’s late at night. Yes, caffeine doesn’t bother us anyway. Both of us. Yes. Let’s do green tea with matcha. Strong.’
Opening one green tea bag and two matcha tea bags, she dropped them into a large porcelain cup (washed together with the plates earlier).
Releasing the ti stop and pouring hot water steadily, the Saintess was hit with a sudden realization.
‘Ah. Indeed. For monts like this, others invested in learning to cook…’
Which wasn’t necessarily true. Cooking was rely a lifestyle hobby or job.
But her overheated brain wasn’t exactly in a state for a sensible deduction.
‘Even if I opened a can of tuna to make canapés, that’d be much more... No, no. That would genuinely turn it into a drinking party. Yes. This is just right.’
Green tea ready. Standby.
‘Shall I go?’
Standby.
‘I must go.’
Ready.
“……Ugh!”
With her eyes tightly shut.
Carrying the tray, serving the snacks and green tea, the Saintess finally launched herself from the kitchen to the living room.
Curtain, rise.
“――Sorry to keep you waiting.”
The voice slipped out from the Saintess, extrely calm. Her expression was as stoic as ever.
The Undertaker was the sa. As soon as he saw the Saintess, he got up and approached.
“Oh. Thank you. Please, let take that.”
“No, please. Stay seated. It's only proper to serve a guest.”
“Wow, that’s quite a lot of snacks. Such fine offerings. As expected of the Saintess. Did you perhaps know I’d had sothing to drink…?”
He attempted to relieve the Saintess of the serving tray, but she insisted on holding on to it.
Naturally, the distance between them ended up socially awkward. The Undertaker’s hand brushed against the tray, and briefly touched hers in the process.
‘~~~~~!!’
It felt as if her brain was lting.
Or rather, being this close made it clear. Ever since the entrance, the scent from the Undertaker was different from just alcohol. While there was a hint of alcohol, it wasn't the sole scent.
It was cologne. Unlike Dang Seo-rin or Yu Ji-won, she wasn't deeply versed in scents, so she couldn’t precisely categorize it as oud wood or anything alike, but it certainly carried the atmosphere of a jazz bar.
Subtle, yet sweet. And deep.
‘Yu Ji-won’s cologne scent... wasn’t it?’
Her chest tightened.
‘Of all tis, right now?’
Breathing felt arduous.
‘No, no. It doesn’t an anything. Yes. Trying to gauge soone’s intentions based on cologne? That’s the realm of mind-reading!’
The Saintess recalled Descartes’ philosophy repeatedly.
‘Doubting that I am doubting, doubting the one who doubts, I still exist while doubting that I am doubting I exist...’
Perhaps she forgot René Descartes was French too, but anyhow, she only needed so European mantra.
“My goodness.”
“Hmm?”
Before she knew it, she was sitting next to the Undertaker on the carpet. Her back leaned against the sofa, comfortable.
When had she sat down? She couldn’t rember. When had she placed the tray on the table? Again, she couldn’t recall.
It wasn’t her fault. The Saintess didn’t have [Perfect mory].
A little— a distance where calling it far felt exaggerated yet near felt inaccurate, across that, the Undertaker smiled.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. What did you just say, Undertaker?”
“No, I didn’t say anything, just laughed. It’s just so like the Saintess, to have brought chopsticks even to eat snacks.”
“……Snacks can get your hands dirty when eaten barehanded.”
Thank goodness. It wasn't anything significant.
She sighed a breath of relief internally.
However, that sigh was like rely using a handheld fan in scorching sumr heat.
Utterly insufficient to cool the heat rising in her heart and head.
There was no light parasol to shade her hand, no shadows from trees to cast over her head, no breeze wafting from riverbanks.
Even if all such sumr repose thods were deployed, they wouldn’t do much for the Saintess at present.
The source of her sumr sat right before her.
“…….”
The sound of cicadas.
From a young age, Jeong Ye-ji found the sound of cicadas beautiful. The wailing, fading from near to distant, seed to foretell her life beforehand.
“Indeed.”
As her head grew hot and her sense of hearing dulled, the pounding of her heart grew distinctly clear, resembling the cry of cicadas.
“Today’s gathering ended smoothly. Cheon Yo-hwa and Lee Ha-yul, along with a few others, have gone drinking.”
“It’s a relief everything turned out well.”
“Co to think of it, you too had plans with Dang Seo-rin today, didn’t you, Undertaker…?”
Sunlight. Deep blue shadows. Echo.
“Oh. I actually had plans set aside because I had sothing to discuss with Dang Seo-rin separately.”
“To discuss... separately, huh.”
“Yes. Saintess, you’ve been careful not to eavesdrop on our conversation at all, haven’t you? Charming.”
“…….”
Eyes. Voices. Tones. The sturdy look of his arms visible through slightly loosened sleeves.
The chocolate snack hanging from the fingertips. The crunch as it fractures gently between his teeth.
Gulp, the chocolate liquid rges with matcha. The subtle bobbing of the white throat. The fragrance. The personal scent.
“…….”
The Saintess.
Stopped ti.
And moved ever so gingerly—just a little bit.
Shuffling slightly, she lifted her hips and moved sideways. Perhaps... 3 cm? Maybe 5 cm. Like the speed at which cherry blossoms fall. Just a tiny bit.
She shifted her body in the direction where the Undertaker sat, narrowing the distance just a little.
Ti stops, resu.
“Right. I thought today was a private ti for you and Dang Seo-rin.”
As if it was nothing.
“Today… you an.”
“Yes. Today.”
But unlike her, the Undertaker had perfect recall.
So whether it was 3 cm or 5 cm, even if it was rely 1 cm, he’d surely notice if the Saintess suddenly got closer.
Or did he?
Maybe he didn’t notice.
If he’s had so drinks, perhaps ignoring a 3 cm shift as a re fignt of his impressions is plausible. It might be sothing like that.
Then, well.
Ti stops.
5 cm, once more. Sideways. Just a bit.
Ti stops, resu.
“But I feel bad that my consideration made you co all this way.”
“……”
“If I’d been watching with clairvoyance, you could have requested telepathy at any ti. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“No need. I think I’d have visited even with you watching today.”
“Today, you an?”
“Yes. Today.”
Still, there was no sign from the Undertaker. No indication that he noticed the Saintess gradually getting closer. If so.
Ti stops.
5 cm more to the side.
Ti stops, resu.
“Hmm. Indeed. You prefer face-to-face conversations when diving deep into discussions. The sa with study sessions.”
“Yes. After all, there’s a certain atmosphere you can only grasp when you see soone in person, right?”
“I completely agree.”
Hey, Undertaker?
I’ve already gotten 15 cm closer. You have perfect recall.
You must have noticed... right?
In truth, have you noticed it already?
‘Ti stops.’
She got even closer.
‘Ti stops.’
Even closer still.
‘Ti, stops.’
Closer.
“……”
“……”
Tap.
The Undertaker’s shoulder and the Saintess’s shoulder touched. She leaned away, seemingly surprised, but ultimately it didn’t matter much.
The two of them were close enough now to clearly hear each other's breathing.
“……”
“……”
Ti stops.
Once more, the Saintess halted ti. And this ti, although it might appear odd, she moved the cup.
The porcelain cup. The one where matcha and green tea were blended.
There was her cup and there was the Undertaker’s cup. As it happened, both cups looked identical. Moreover, inside, both had similar levels of green tea.
She lifted her cup and switched it with the one where the Undertaker's cup sat.
Exchange.
They looked the sa and no noticeable change was apparent on the outside. So even if she resud ti, there was no chance the Undertaker would notice the switch.
Ti stops, resu.
“……”
“……”
The closeness.
Suddenly, thirst crept in.
Not just for her. Probably for the Undertaker too.
So the Undertaker reached out—grasping a ‘cup’—and drank the green tea.
The cup in the Undertaker's hand wasn’t the one in front of him. It was the one that had been in front of the Saintess.
“...Ah.”
A sound escaped her. In a completely normal, everyday tone.
“Undertaker, that's my cup.”
“Oh. Is it?”
The Undertaker’s voice ca out. In a completely normal, everyday tone.
“My apologies. Oh, I guess having had a drink earlier made mistake it. Truly sorry.”
“It’s fine. It happens.”
“Thank you.”
Ti stops.
Once again, the Saintess switched the position of the cups. aning, the cup now before the Undertaker was the one the Saintess originally drank from.
Ti stops, resu.
The Undertaker reached out again. This ti, being cautious not to repeat his mistake, he picked up the cup actually placed in front of him.
He drank it. Gulp.
“……”
“……”
Clink.
The sound of the cup being set down.
Squeeze.
The sound of hands grasping hands.
Gently.
The sound of heads leaning towards one another.
A kiss.
Breathing sounds.
“……”
In the first kiss, there was an aroma of chocolate.
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