In Hoone, The Guest Without Taste was among the more moderate guests. Simply refusing well was enough to avoid trouble. He had thought so earlier.
'I had already resolved myself to this, but.'
Naturally, there were domains that refusal alone could not resolve. Naly, the ti after accepting an 'invitation.'
'This is exhausting.'
"Please, have a taste."
The voice of the incomplete blood mage settled low and smooth.
Poised and gentle, befitting the host of a banquet, yet beneath it lay a compulsion that could not be refused. A strange pressure constricted his entire body.
The obsession that the al must begin invaded his instincts.
"......"
Even so, Yeon-woo remained composed.
'What to do about this.'
It was sowhat vexing.
'I have no appetite at all.'
He might already be having his emotions consud. Being this swayed by mood was a foreign experience, the first since his adolescence.
'As I thought, I need to take care not to grow too stupid. Unlike the water-affinity penalty, this one tampers with the inner self.'
Yeon-woo lowered his gaze to the table.
"I feel as though I have been invited to a master's theater."
"Is that so?"
"I am deeply moved."
Flas atop the silver candelabra danced along the tabletop. The host, seated at the far end, still smiled with curved eyes. Clear emotions could be read in those narrowed pupils.
Greed and hunger, and a subtle anticipation.
"Quite...."
Also fear.
"Impressive."
Anxiety commandeering his fingertips.
"And beautiful."
Yeon-woo t the other's gaze with eyes devoid of any emotion.
Upon the table, a glass of deep red wine, and at and fruit and extravagant ornants arrayed in hollow splendor. All of it was nothing more than stage props for the 'true banquet.'
'If I must ingest sothing, a liquid would be better when I have this little appetite.'
Yeon-woo raised the glass and took a sip of the liquid within.
"Hmm."
The instant the red glinted and swayed, sothing within was cleanly severed.
'This much I can tell for certain.'
These severed pieces would fall into The Guest Without Taste's stomach.
A warm, sweet sensation flowed down his throat. His tongue received a pleasant stimulus, but not his core. Yeon-woo could not define precisely what was being taken from him.
'Hope, perhaps, or trust....'
Likely things of a similarly gentle nature.
"...Good."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
As a corner of his chest grew cold and hollow, elation swam in the host's eyes. A primal joy over gastronomy. From hands clasped as if in prayer, Yeon-woo could vividly sense what the guest was savoring.
"Is this not a most rapturous table?"
I must be rather to your taste.
'I had considered the possibility that, separate from my blood, my emotions might not suit his palate -- and that would have been its own problem. So perhaps I should be grateful.'
Then again, in Hoone, The Guest Without Taste had no particular preferences. It simply relished the act of devouring human emotions itself.
"Is this a pleasant al?"
"A most pleasant al."
"You are noble."
"Oh."
"A noble one."
The voice whispering in praise of Yeon-woo carried a note of triumph. Deception upon deception. A base excitent born from the fact that he had the 'noble one' in his grasp and was nibbling him away.
'Is this simply what a nobleman is, or is this particular person especially ill-tempered?'
A textbook rhetorical strategy -- elevating the other to prove one's own superiority.
"I respect you."
"......"
Yet beneath that single layer lurked fear. Because he knew his own imperfection better than anyone. Having drunk Yeon-woo's 'blood,' Yeon-woo could at least discern that much.
"...Aha."
Having assessed that far, Yeon-woo curved his eyes and smiled in return.
"It is not easy to disgorge what one has already swallowed."
"......"
"Is that not so?"
He tried to maintain a calm tone, but it was difficult. Having the pillars that sustained him gnawed away held a kind of unpleasantness distinct from physical pain.
'A novel form of torture, before such a splendid table.'
The emotions lost at this table could not be recovered. That fact made Yeon-woo deeply unpleasant. Even having anticipated this situation, the speed at which his mood sank was alarming.
'This will be harder than I imagined.'
"I trust the flavors are not too bland?"
"I thank you for the splendid reception."
The true conversation had begun.
"Thanks to you, I find myself lost in the pleasure of a al for the first ti in ages."
He had taken only one sip of wine, yet Yeon-woo answered as such. The guest, too, did not point that out, and asked.
"Are you free of worry?"
"Jehovah...."
A na that might be foreign to one who had once been Bohemian nobility. He had not truly wished to flaunt such exaggerated erudition, but there was reason behind the choice.
"I rely follow the belief that He shall provide so that I lack nothing."
The language of that era had been buffeted precariously between Protestant faith and Catholic politics. Sure enough, the response that ca back was far more eager than expected.
"Oh, Jehovah."
His fingertips drifted slowly through the air. A strange movent, as though carefully trying to clasp sothing invisible.
"That is a rather unfamiliar language to . A na of faith I am not accustod to."
"Faith always finds new paths."
"New paths."
"Is that not so?"
Yeon-woo tilted his head slightly and added.
"Like those who once turned their backs on God and had to wear the wolf's hide simply to survive."
Words that struck squarely at his past -- having denied his true self and donned a disguise to survive.
'I had no desire to resort to this kind of personal attack, but.'
The mont Yeon-woo needled the fact that his very existence teetered precariously atop a vast hypocrisy and incompleteness, a chill silence settled over the table.
Those dark-red eyes fixed on Yeon-woo.
"Oh."
Instead of answering, he tilted his head, mimicking Yeon-woo's gesture. Cold silver-gray hair spilled around his shoulders.
Having smiled in silence, he asked.
"Can a starving belly be filled by faith alone?"
"The weight of reality is such that my tongue dares not speak lightly of Him. A world where a rciful heart alone cannot procure even a loaf of bread."
"And yet, as you know, it is also said that man does not live by bread alone."
"Of course."
Yeon-woo's eyes softened further.
"Is not the difference between man and beast that we live not only for the sustenance before our eyes, but for the unseen purpose and values beyond?"
"Unseen purpose and values -- noble words."
Just as The Guest Without Taste had done monts ago, this ti it was Yeon-woo who cut in first.
"Yet man is but a part of nature, and at tis a single starving wolf dictates the fate of a hundred sheep. The way of the world is that simple."
He gave no answer.
"But even so, it is also true that pride goeth before destruction."
"......"
"And at tis... does not the wolf disguise itself as a sheep and steal into the flock?"
Yeon-woo received the sharpened gaze aid at him with leisure, and tilted his glass once more. Deep, sweet wine slid down his throat.
Only then did The Guest Without Taste answer in a low voice.
"I would have been glad could I cut out my heart and show it to you."
Asserting his own innocence while simultaneously pressing whether Yeon-woo would furnish a heart that had never existed. Yeon-woo set down his glass and t those eyes head-on.
"Heaven warns us to beware false prophets."
"I have neither the sheep's fleece nor the wolf's claws."
"Ah, how upright."
With every exchange, sothing within was continually severed. Yet he could not storm away from this table. That was not a matter of rules.
'Rules are equally arbitrary, whether in reality or in a ga.'
All Yeon-woo could do was bring this grotesque conversation to its conclusion. He resolved to focus only on the destination, not the unpleasant emotions welling up.
"Is it not futile?"
"...What is?"
"Who can say?"
The elaborate dishes upon the table, or the futile efforts and struggles the guest was pouring out. Yeon-woo did not care which way it was interpreted. What mattered was seizing the initiative in this enclosed space.
It was The Guest Without Taste himself who had seated Yeon-woo across from him. Then he would have to pay the price for treating his guest so carelessly. That was the natural conclusion in Yeon-woo's mind.
"I am young and foolish, yet I have observed that all toil and virtue in this world are trailed by lantation. Those many people say that what ultimately remains is power and force. That only instinct endures."
To Yeon-woo's words, The Guest Without Taste asked.
"What are your thoughts?"
"To one who sings of vanity, the world may well appear so. But it is not only humans who know how to wield human language."
"You speak as the devil might."
At that barbed jest, Yeon-woo returned fire with ease.
"You seem to be in the sa place as I."
"......"
At that, the host tilted his head ever so slightly. Yeon-woo tasted a strange sense of victory there. A pleasure as fresh as if newly born.
'He does not seem to have realized yet....'
You have grown quite talkative.
***
"To one who sings of vanity, the world may well appear so. But it is not only humans who know how to wield human language."
"You speak as the devil might."
It was not only the clergy who could cite sacred verse. The devil, too, was no less eloquent, and the 'noble one' before him wielded that insight as if to prove the point.
Then the god of blood added softly.
"You seem to be in the sa place as I."
"......"
The man chewed on those words and tilted his head at an angle. Yeon-woo had denied his own innocence and, at the sa ti, placed himself on the sa plane as a devil of hell.
That audacious declaration stirred a strange nostalgia in the man. Not the freshness one might find in a spring garden, but sothing far more barren -- a shard of a past that had been, above all, passionate.
"...Oh."
He had thought him young, but perhaps not entirely so.
"This is not my ho, noble one."
"If I was rude, I beg your pardon. Yet one who has ever listened to the words of the truly noble would know that I rely employed a rough comparison."
"Of course. I am grateful for the apology, and I express my delight."
I lost this one. The man had no choice but to admit it inwardly.
"It is enough that I have had this opportunity to share ti and speak freely."
Ah, yes. This was exactly it. The conversation he had missed. This kind of occasion, and this kind of ti.
"It seems the rits of this place extend beyond the als alone."
"To hear our hotel praised so highly -- it warms the heart of its caretaker."
"You...."
The man asked, suddenly.
"Why do you not grow angry?"
"Has the play concluded?"
"Why do you not weep?"
"You have eaten nothing."
"I have had my fill."
"Is that so?"
The holiest blood in the world asked in turn.
"Do you need help?"
"......"
He smiled as though looking down upon all things.
"I wish to join you at that table, but in this sorry state, it would be difficult."
"...You are most rciful and...."
"But even so, it is a great sha not to serve one's guest."
"Vain,"
"I do hope you enjoy the rest of the evening."
"And greedy."
The man could not help but add.
"I would not have done so."
"I expect not."
"The moon is dark and the night is long."
The old vampire rose from his seat and bowed with deference in his movent.
"May the noble one's honorable creed light the way."
Who would not crumble before him?
The countless humans the man had faced had all broken and fallen without exception.
Those who had lost even the warm ember kept in their old, rusted hearts typically collapsed in hollow ruin. He, too, had gleefully gnawed away at Yeon-woo's emotions, expecting the sa.
Yet Yeon-woo smiled to the very end and brought the conversation to a close.
"......"
Yeon-woo held eye contact and smiled until the last, then rose without lingering.
The man stood where he was and watched, for a long ti, as Yeon-woo disappeared down a different path.
Temperance is the armor of refinent, reason the hidden weapon, and conviction the mark of honor. All of these had once belonged to the man, yet were now lost to him forever.
Then what of you?
"...I wonder."
For the first ti, he was curious.
How long you could remain noble.
***
[mory of Warmth: A Winter Forest Banquet (Sample Course)]
Appetizer
Oak-Smoked Venison with a Gentle Herb Emulsion
Venison thinly sliced and infused with oak smoke, served with ward herb oil. Still carrying a pleasant warmth as if just taken from the fla, the forest's smoky aroma and rich atiness spread gently across the palate.
Soup
Mountain Broth with Clove and Whole Peppercorn
Bones from small ga such as quail and mountain hare, slowly simred to draw out a dense, wild flavor. The heavy warmth of clove and crushed black pepper slowly heats the body with every sip.
Main Course
Mouflon Braise, Tender in Red Wine
Wild mouflon braised gently in red wine and herbs to preserve its tender texture. The rich sauce, ladled on the spot, lts across the palate and leaves a lingering, weighty warmth.
Side
White Wheat Bread Fresh from the Hearth, with Butter-Flavored New Potatoes
A plain yet springy white wheat bread retaining the heat of the wood fire, served alongside soft potatoes suffused with the flavor of butter. The nutty grain aroma and white steam that rise when the bread is broken convey a gentle warmth.
Dessert
Warm Vanilla Custard with Caral Glaze
Beneath a crisp sugar shell, a soft vanilla cream that still holds warmth. The sweet steam that rises as the sugar crust is cracked quietly closes the final page of the al.
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