Wine and Poison Chapter 22 - Night of Wine 

The stars, of all things, were beautiful.

 

At least the stars were beautiful.

 

Langsion couldn’t tell what kind of expression would be appropriate in a moment like this. 

 

Scylla was gazing up at the sky. Sitting on a pile made of straw and cloth heaped inside the cabin. 

 

A palpable melancholy radiated from her as she stared upward, motionless like a stone pillar.

 

Fortunately, the flames had not spread beyond the cabin. 

 

Thanks to the wind spirit that Langsion had secretly called, the fire had been enveloped and quietly extinguished.

 

The nymphs, ever mindful of Hera’s watchful eyes, scattered the moment the fire died down—but it was highly likely that Hera already knew exactly what had happened here. 

 

Argus of the hundred eyes had surely reported everything. 

 

Still, she probably wouldn’t suspect anything serious. She already considered him a madman, so she would simply think he had committed yet another bizarre act. 

 

If she thought that way, he would actually be grateful.

 

Langsion rested his chin on his hand and openly admired Scylla. 

 

Over her face, sunken with melancholy, overlapped the memory of just a few hours earlier, when he had held her tightly as she shed tears. His chest tickled again, the same way it had then. 

 

It felt as though a young chick were flapping its wings inside his ribcage. 

 

For someone who could die at any moment—an old man who already smelled faintly of death—it was truly a strange sensation.

 

“Master.”

 

“…”

 

“Shall I lay down more cloth for you?”

 

Scylla gave a small shake of her head.

 

“It’s fine.”

 

Then she closed her mouth again. Between the heavy silence she brought, sparks from the campfire popped and danced. 

 

Thanks to the fire, it wasn’t particularly cold. 

 

The cool, gentle mountain air wrapped around the two of them like a soft blanket.

 

On nights like this, Langsion usually felt nothing but his usual habitual boredom—but strangely, not tonight. 

 

Every ounce of his attention was stretched toward Scylla. He kept noticing the dried tear tracks where her tears had fallen earlier, the overly quiet rhythm of her breathing.

 

Suddenly, Scylla’s lips moved.

 

“Thank you for stopping it, Langsion.”

 

“…”

 

“I almost burned to death along with the cabin.”

 

Perhaps because she had screamed and wailed so violently earlier, her voice was huskier and lower than usual. 

 

Langsion answered almost reflexively.

 

“Even if you were being dragged down to the underworld, I would go and bring you back, Master.”

 

Scylla laughed. It was closer to a hollow laugh, but a laugh was still a laugh.

 

At that light sound, Langsion felt relieved. 

 

The sight of the usually cynical and curt Scylla shedding tears had been striking, but the face he liked best was still the one that smiled.

 

“And now you should leave.”

 

The softness that had begun to spread across his face twisted.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“The cabin burned down, and all the poisons and records I had gathered over time are gone. That doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. I’ll have to start over from the beginning. Of course, since I’ve already done some of it before, it won’t take as long as it did the first time—but it will still be hard. Even now, there wasn’t much I could teach you, and from here on, there will be even less. I won’t be able to pay attention to you.”

 

She was calm and composed. That was how he could tell she meant it more sincerely than ever.

 

“Are you… worried about me?”

 

“If we have to put a name to it, yes.”

 

A soft curve lifted the corners of Langsion’s lips.

 

How could he possibly not feel this happy?

 

What was the difference?

 

When she had paced restlessly outside the cabin, waiting for him during the long periods when he didn’t return, his heart had felt so full and satisfied. 

 

But now—nothing. Instead, a flicker of displeasure rose. 

 

Once again, he felt pushed away. 

 

Shoved outside the invisible line she drew around herself, a boundary he could feel even if he couldn’t see it.

 

He had been about to ask what she planned to do from now on. 

 

Whatever she wanted, he had intended to go along with it, at least moderately. Her goal was unrealistic anyway; the chance of success was practically zero. 

 

If he thought of it as her personal hobby, there was nothing he couldn’t accommodate. He would take care of everything, from one to ten. 

 

Feed her healthy things, stop her from doing anything dangerous. 

 

Playing house—yes, exactly. He had planned to play house with her. He had absolutely no intention of leaving her side.

 

So naturally, she should feel the same.

 

Scylla was lonely, and she had almost no practical ability to take care of herself. He decided to pretend he hadn’t heard what she spat out at the table not long ago. 

 

She was affectionate by nature; she might push him away because she thought she wasn’t helpful to the promising future of a young man like him.

 

But not now.

 

She had lost everything. She needed help.

 

And yet instead of asking for it—far from it—she was telling him to leave?

 

Even her gaze was more serious than when she had asked him lightly before. She genuinely wanted him to leave. 

 

Using the excuse that she was “worried about him”—a reason he could not understand at all.

 

This wasn’t a worry.

 

It wasn’t a worry at all.

 

There was truth in her words. She couldn’t pay attention to him. She didn’t want to pay attention to him. 

 

So she was using “worry” as a pretext to push him away.

 

Langsion’s feelings were hurt. The word “hurt” wasn’t even enough; his mood had turned utterly foul.

 

The difference between how he thought and how she thought was crystal clear. 

 

He thought about the future. He weighed what Scylla would need. He even planned when he might be able to feed her Olympian nectar and ambrosia.

 

But she was different. She was trying to rebuild a past she had lost in a single moment of disaster. 

 

That much was fine. 

 

The problem was that he was not part of her plan. Yes—that was it. 

 

In the future Scylla envisioned, he did not exist.

 

Her intense amber eyes, reflecting the light of the campfire, were dead serious. There wasn’t the slightest trace of playfulness. She truly wanted him to leave. 

 

From the bottom of her heart.

 

“Have I become unpleasant to you?”

 

“There’s no question of liking or disliking.”

 

“Then why are you telling me to leave?”

 

“I already told you. I’m going to be busy from now on. It will be hard for me to pay attention to you.”

 

“You don’t have to pay attention to me. Nothing will change from how it’s been until now. I’ll just assist with your work and take care of your meals.”

 

“Why would you?”

 

“…”

 

“Why would you waste your precious time like that?”

 

“…”

 

“You may say it’s fine, but I would feel bothered by it.”

 

“…”

 

“And I don’t have the mental room to feel bothered right now.”

 

“…”

 

“Leave, Langsion. Live your own life. Don’t waste your precious time at my side.”

 

Ah. So that’s how it is.

 

“Worried about you” was just an empty shell of an excuse.

 

She simply didn’t want to be bothered by him. Because her life—her absurd, unattainable goal—was more important. 

 

To focus solely on her own life, she was cutting away the unnecessary side branch that was him.

 

Even though they had grown somewhat close, he realized he was still the least “precious” being to her. 

 

The past three months he had spent with her had been nothing more than playing house.

 

Come to think of it, it really wasn’t like him at all—so unusually gentle and ordinary. 

 

The humans who insulted him, he would crush with the most cunning and ruthless means, planting thorough despair. 

 

The gods who looked down on him, he would conquer slowly over time. 

 

This approach was completely unlike him.

 

He admits it. She was quite a difficult opponent. With ordinary methods, she would never give him her side forever.

 

In that case, he had no choice but to resort to underhanded means, didn’t he?

 

“Aren’t you hungry, Master?”

 

“I’m fine. If you’re hungry, eat. It would be better if you stopped paying attention to me from now on. Don’t make me repeat the same thing…”

 

“Understood, Master.”

Scylla, who had stopped speaking, stared steadily at him. 

 

Langsion gave a smile that looked as though he had swallowed bitter medicine.

 

“I understand. You don’t want to pay any more attention to me.”

 

“Langsion.”

 

Langsion waited for her to continue. 

 

But as if she had spoken without meaning to, Scylla’s expression turned troubled. When he kept gazing at her quietly, she let out a sigh.

 

“I didn’t say it to hurt you. I truly don’t want you to waste your time by my side. I mean it.”

 

“But it’s also true that you don’t want to be bothered by me anymore.”

 

“…”

 

Looking at her with no answer to give, Langsion let out a soft chuckle. 

 

Beneath his usual fresh, bright smile, a thin layer of cold frost had formed. Hiding his true feelings, he spoke casually.

 

“It’s alright, Master.”

 

“…”

 

“I can tell you didn’t say it because you dislike me. I understand that you’re worried, too.”

 

A flicker of relief passed through Scylla’s eyes. 

 

Langsion forcibly suppressed the irritation rising inside him.

 

“So… tonight is our last night together?”

 

“Since I’ll be busy starting tomorrow, probably yes.”

 

How could she say such cruel things while looking at him with that concerned gaze? 

 

Langsion held back the urge to sneer and instead let his eyes droop in a show of sadness.

 

“Then we’ll need some wine.”

 

“I don’t drink…”

 

“It’s the last night, Master.”

 

Langsion spoke again.

 

“This is the last time.”

 

He put extra emphasis on the word “last,” and the faint look of rejection that had lingered on Scylla’s face began to soften and fade.

 

Seizing the moment, Langsion whispered as softly as a sigh:

 

“I hope tonight becomes an unforgettable night.”

 

“…”

 

“And alcohol is a good friend for letting both joy and sorrow flow away.”

 

“…”

 

“Is there anything more necessary than this on a day like today?”

 

“…”

 

“Please drink with me.”

 

“…”

 

“This is my first and last request.”

 

Scylla let out a small sigh.

 

At some point, this intruder—who had only been annoying and suspicious—had become someone who weighed on her heart.

 

“This will be my first and last time too… with someone like you. I never imagined I could get this close to anyone.”

 

“That’s an honor. Well, it’s true you probably won’t meet a disciple like me again.”

 

Scylla let out a short, amused huff of laughter.

 

Seeing her visibly relax at his light teasing, Langsion gave her a gentle, crescent-eyed smile.

 

Yet inside those softly folded eyes, his pupils were not smiling at all.