"Did you enjoy your al?"
A neat voice, like a lody, reached him.
"......"
The man turned his head to look at the master of this castle.
Pallid skin, tall, with a broad-boned fra. A straight nose bridge and a jawline that ran sharp where the flesh had fallen away. Eyes pooled with deep fatigue and well-grood brows.
At the very least, he did not look like soone who habitually coughed up blood.
"......"
"Please forgive
for not sitting at the sa table."
He took the seat opposite the man with movents so elegant they made no sound. It was a refined manner, yet the man detected a subtle dissonance in the hand that pulled the chair.
'...Not at all accustod to being served.'
Despite having so many servants at his command, he pulled out his own chair. For anyone who understood the arrogant weight carried by the na 'Velmareth,' it was a foreign sight that could never beco second nature.
Gestures strangely clumsy for innate authority.
'And... soft fingertips.'
Thin hands with prominent knuckles.
Whether strength would not enter them or could not -- either way, it inevitably evoked thoughts of fatigue or injury from overwork.
'He is certainly not in a stable state.'
Conspicuous fatigue, and an unstable blood flow that could not be seen but was there. The air of a four-legged beast with nerves on edge. Yet even so, there was dignity.
"It is embarrassing to admit, but I have been limiting my activities due to poor health of late."
"......"
...Poor health....
'A simple side effect, or theater to lull prey into dropping its guard?'
It was difficult to rationally accept that a Velmareth -- a completed divine construct -- would suffer uncontrollable side effects. But the man roughly crushed the hunting desire that rose within him.
'What if that frailty is a series of birth pains, the process of becoming a more complete god?'
It might be possible to snap that neck this instant, yet he had no confidence he could fully withstand the vast fury of blood that lurked beyond. The na Velmareth was far too heavy to wager on a reckless gamble.
In the end, the man fled to the conclusion that all of this was rely the castle lord's graceful display of face.
"......"
"I have brought a gift."
He already knew. The rich scent of coffee had told him.
"I am aware you do not greatly enjoy sweet things, but I added sugar in advance. I did not put in very much, so it should not be off-putting."
He personally poured the man's cup. Even if it was an act of respecting history and culture, for the master to tilt the pot himself was far too humble to call rely unassuming.
'He carries on as though trying to cater to my tastes.'
Brown liquid erging from the narrow mouth of the pot. Whatever the intent, it was a fragrance he had not encountered in a long ti.
"You usually enjoy sitting at the table with other guests."
"That is correct."
"I recall you often serve coffee."
"That is also correct."
"Our dining area provides primarily basic coffee... I hope the beverages have been to your liking?"
The questions were courteous yet attentive. Like those of a capable subordinate. The man held that gaze without even blinking.
Was this goodwill, or compliance?
"It was good."
Whichever it was, this place was comfortable.
"Being able to rest."
Since the other party was young, he saw no need to speak in circles.
Breathing was easy, and every space was cozy. The cruel things that had clung to the body and mind he had been struggling to maintain lted away and vanished. Like sugar beneath the rain.
"Nowhere else in the world was there a place where I could stay like this."
The air of this castle was unreally light -- enough to make him forget even the weight of blood that had been crushing him for so long. The man was so intoxicated by this sweetness that he did not even ask what the other party wanted.
He rely savored the undeserved generosity.
"The wine as well...."
"The Franconian white has a splendid flavor."
"Tokaji was also good."
Sweet wine.
"This castle has everything."
Truly, everything.
"......"
"Although I did not sit beside you."
The castle lord personally poured the next cup. Each ti pale fingers grazed the cup, the rising steam gently dissolved the man's rigid gaze.
At length, he pushed the cup forward with a restrained gesture.
"I have been thinking that I would like to sit and talk about a variety of subjects."
"......"
Talk?
Perhaps so. Perhaps not.
"...I see."
Coffee with a deep, heavy flavor in a silver cup. The man took hold of it.
This, too, was sweet.
It was delicious.
***
If wine symbolized authority for the nobility of that era, then coffee was the beverage of conversation.
This occasion has concluded, but I shall honor you as an equal conversant. For the host of a banquet to personally serve coffee to a guest -- that was the ritual it signified.
Yeon-woo studied the guest, who was staring blankly at him while clutching the cup.
"I have also prepared simple biscuits and pretzels. I am not certain they will be to your liking."
'Of course, that is predicated on my shallow knowledge being correct.'
Yeon-woo clicked his tongue inwardly. This godforsaken mountain hotel with no internet connection.
'Am I doing this right? This is an entirely different field from reading the room for the sake of office politics.... The generation gap in speech conventions alone must be staggering.'
He had been confident in his abilities when it ca to workplace maneuvering, but paying proper respect to the rhythms of a nobleman from centuries past was completely uncharted territory.
A situation that had to be resolved with nothing but the knowledge in his head.
'If my half-baked mory turns out to be wrong, I dread to think how I will clean up the ss.'
He watched the other party sip the coffee.
"I am glad it seems to suit you."
"It is good."
"Ah, that is kind of you to say. I, too, enjoy gastronomy, so I find it pleasant to converse with a guest such as yourself."
"You enjoy gastronomy?"
Its vocabulary had grown. The reason was still unknown.
"...Yes, I enjoy focusing on the harmony that unfolds on the palate."
"That is correct."
"......"
"It is a pleasant thing."
He gripped the silver cup as though he would die if he let go.
"It was a pleasant thing."
"Today as well."
Yeon-woo cut short the sentint before it could deepen. The flow was not heading anywhere good.
"Was it pleasant?"
"......"
The guest's gaze t Yeon-woo's. When Yeon-woo smiled, the guest answered.
"...Yes."
"Aha, I see."
"It was pleasant."
"I am glad to hear it."
He added.
"I rely prepared a modest occasion. If you happened to perceive sothing beyond what I prepared... that would be not my ability, but entirely a credit to your own fine discernnt."
"......"
Only then did the guest who loved blood set the silver cup down on the table. And it began placing the accompanying snacks in its mouth. Yeon-woo sipped his coffee and watched quietly.
'I always wonder -- where exactly does the voice co from?'
Coco was similar in that regard.
'Producing sound without opening the mouth.'
It was too strange to dismiss as re ventriloquism. The Guest Without Taste only opened its mouth physically when chewing and swallowing sothing.
Not just food, but emotions as well.
"......"
At least it was not eating my emotions.
'Perhaps because the al is being served by this side.'
Yeon-woo blinked slowly. At so point, the guest's trademark clinking had gone silent. Perhaps because a satisfying al lay before it.
Setting down his coffee, Yeon-woo continued.
"As I ntioned a mont ago, our hotel's dining area provides only basic coffee. So recipes are prepared, but there are still areas where our operations fall short."
He raised his gaze to et the guest who loved blood.
"A matter of ingredients and personnel, one might say."
"I see."
"But for a friend's request, I can prepare it personally."
"Friend."
"Yes."
Yeon-woo curved his eyes.
"Friend."
***
"Friend."
Friend.
"......"
Not a word that commonly appeared at occasions such as this.
No, perhaps things were different nowadays. But at the tables in his mory, it had been an exceedingly rare word. Yet the reason it lodged so firmly in his ear was because it was truly striking.
There was aroma, and he could taste.
How long had it been, truly?
It had been so long....
"...Yes."
I see.
"May I have so?"
I still have not given up.
'Could I not hunt him?'
His head swam with appetite.
Reviews
All reviews (0)