Wine and Poison Chapter 24 - Night of Wine 

Scylla blinked. 

 

When had he gotten so close? 

 

A faint question rose in her mind, only to be swept away by the warmth. 

 

Langsion gently took her hand—the one roughened from handling poisonous herbs.

 

“Just be honest with me.”

 

“…”

 

“You like having me by your side, don’t you?”

 

If those who bewitch humans are called witches, and those who seduce them into corruption are called devils, then Langsion was exactly like the latter.

 

His skill at sensing the emptiness in her heart and slipping into it like a ghost was both natural and cunning. 

 

Langsion narrowed his eyes at the fragrance of wine leaking from her lips.

 

The Maenads offered their bodies and souls to their god. He did not want Scylla to behave like them. 

 

But if she fell to his temptation, from then on she would no longer be able to push him away of her own free will. 

 

The god of wine and ecstasy, Dionysus—his power lay in dominating the humans he had enchanted.

 

The Scylla of right now was too strong, too free-spirited. 

 

Langsion intended to slip just a very, very light noose around her.

 

It was nothing major. Only that she would abandon that absurd dream of killing a god out of enchantment for him, that whatever she did she would glance at him first, that she would come to crave his love.

 

“You wish I wouldn’t leave, don’t you?”

 

If she would only answer “yes” to that question…

 

Scylla’s pupils trembled. Those upright, firm amber eyes that had captured his interest from the very first moment he saw her were—for once—hesitant, unable to find their footing. 

 

Langsion’s throat moved visibly. 

 

He had thought he was drawn to her unyielding strength, but seeing those wavering eyes sent a thrilling shiver through his mind.

 

“Master…”

 

The moment Langsion leaned even closer, Scylla bowed her head and averted her gaze.

 

“I should stop drinking.”

 

She rubbed her forehead with her hand. Her breath was thick with the scent of wine. 

 

Langsion stared for a moment at the empty space in front of him where she had been looking, then turned his eyes to her. He gave a soft smile.

 

In the firelight of the campfire, the shadows of the two of them stretched long across the earthen ground.

 

“Are you going to sleep?”

 

“I think that would be best.”

 

Scylla lay down on the pile of blankets that was pretending to be a bed. 

 

Langsion’s gaze followed her silently.

 

Lying on her back, Scylla looked up at the sky. 

 

The countless stars filling the night sky poured into her eyes like glittering rain. 

 

Whether from the alcohol or from sleepiness, her half-closed eyes held droplets of an emotion Langsion couldn’t quite identify. 

 

The drunken haze creeping through her body, combined with the profound silence of the mountain, where even the sound of a newt couldn’t be heard.

 

Scylla’s eyes slowly drifted shut. Just before she completely fell asleep, Langsion tossed another log onto the campfire.

 

Thump!

 

It made quite a loud noise. 

 

Startled, Scylla’s eyes flew open again.

 

‘Just letting her fall asleep like that would be such a waste.’

 

She blinked a few times and looked at Langsion. He felt her gaze but kept staring only at the fire. 

 

Shaking Scylla was easy. 

 

Humans are sentimental creatures—pretend to be cold and push others away all you want, but tap their weak spot once and they collapse in a pathetic heap. 

 

Nothing was more entertaining than that.

 

The three months he’d spent acting like a useful assistant hadn’t been entirely meaningless. 

 

Just as a single drop of water can pierce rock, harmless kindness erodes the walls around a heart. 

 

Even in such a short time, the trust that had built up unconsciously planted the thought: This person won’t hurt me.

 

The corner of Langsion’s mouth curved up on the side Scylla couldn’t see.

 

“Actually, Master…”

 

“…”

 

“I don’t want to leave.”

 

Langsion’s voice brushed against her ear like soft silk, tickling it. 

 

It was excessively sweet and honeyed—so much so that she unconsciously reached up and pinched her earlobe.

 

“This feeling is a first for me. I never felt this way, even when I was saying goodbye to a lover, but when you told me to leave, I suddenly wanted to cling and act pathetic.”

 

“…”

 

“Can you believe it? It felt worse than breaking up with a lover. Leaving you felt worse.”

 

“Don’t know.”

 

Scylla answered in a drowsy, languid voice.

 

“I’ve never had that kind of experience to begin with.”

 

How could he shake her even more? 

 

While Langsion was happily plotting his next move, he froze at her unexpected reply. 

 

Never had that kind of experience? What kind of experience was she talking about? 

 

Langsion couldn’t hide his bewilderment. Seeing the confusion plainly written on his face, Scylla gave a soft, floppy smile—like bread soaked through with milk until it was falling apart.

 

“What? Is this the first time you’ve seen an old woman my age who’s never had that kind of experience?”

 

It wasn’t the first time, but it was extremely rare.

 

Even across the entire span of his long, long life.

 

Humans were beings incapable of living alone. They were the kind who would wither and die if they couldn’t prove their own existence through relationships with others. 

 

No matter how unattractive, no matter how poor, most managed to form some kind of bond with someone before they grew old and died. 

 

They had no choice. The Fates guided connections toward them.

 

The only ones who failed were those whose threads of destiny had been twisted by the Fates themselves. 

 

And that usually happened when a god intervened.

 

“Do I look abnormal to you, too?”

 

Langsion and Scylla’s eyes met. Her lips were loosely relaxed in a drowsy curve, but her gaze was melancholy. 

 

The alcohol was drawing her emotions out into the open, raw and honest.

 

“No.”

 

“…”

 

“But it’s a pity.”

 

“…You pity me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Setting aside the question that had just formed in his mind, Langsion took her hand again.

 

“Having the experience of loving someone is actually quite wonderful.”

 

“The experience of loving… How amusing. To hear such words from someone younger than me.”

 

“What does age have to do with love?”

 

While Scylla smiled faintly and bitterly, Langsion let a deep, rich smile rise to his face. 

 

The one who should find talk of age ridiculous wasn’t her—it was him. He had lived for a length of time she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

 

Love was a good emotion. Warm, soft, pleasant. 

 

Even if it was ultimately just a fleeting pleasure that couldn’t last long.

 

“To think you’ve never been with a man. Then…”

 

Langsion’s voice dropped to a strange, low timbre. 

 

Scylla, completely unaware of what he was about to say, fixed her liquor-glazed eyes on him. Her golden irises, usually hard as polished gems, had turned soft and syrupy sweet, like warm honey.

 

Langsion tilted his head slightly and slowly licked his lips. 

 

The movement of his tongue was languid, as though he were licking not his own lips but her eyelids. 

 

After a moment, he whispered,

 

“Have you ever shared a bed with a man?”

 

The night air held its breath. Scylla’s dulled, unfocused gaze fixed on the sound of his heartbeat—a heartbeat that, despite everything, resembled a human’s.

 

She didn’t blink once. 

 

At any other time, this question, this topic, would have earned his irritation or a blade-sharp dismissal. 

 

But the wine touched by a god’s hand had paralyzed her central nervous system and worked its own kind of magic, effortlessly drawing out what lay buried inside. 

 

Taking advantage of the liquor’s spell, Langsion’s voice slipped past her defenses from within, gently unraveling them.

 

“No.”

 

Her voice came out hoarse in reply. 

 

The languid atmosphere, words she would never normally say, the strangely softened way she moved—Langsion liked every single part of it right now.

 

He leaned toward the shabby, makeshift bed. He looked at Scylla up close. 

 

An unattractive, aging woman. 

 

He imagined she must have been cuter when she was young, but if she had never once been with a man, even back then, her face probably hadn’t been anything worth looking at twice. 

 

Her personality certainly wasn’t sweet or gentle.

 

But those eyes—he truly admired them. 

 

When you delved into the sweet-colored pupils, it was like cracking open a hard shell to reveal a perfectly preserved, pale, tender core inside, a flawless soul stared back at him. 

 

Whatever she carried within her seemed capable of giving him a kind of satisfaction he had never tasted before. 

 

Perhaps that was why he didn’t want to give her up. 

 

Why did he tolerate living like children playing house in this ramshackle, worthless cabin? 

 

Why did he put up with her occasional irritating behavior?

 

What exactly did he want from her?

 

“What are you trying to do?”

 

Perhaps sensing danger, Scylla asked in a stiff voice. But the drunken looseness still clung to her tone, so it carried no real threat. 

 

Instead, her breath—warm with wine—brushed against his lips. 

 

Without thinking, Langsion licked his lips again.

 

Even if her outward appearance was unremarkable, it was only natural that he would feel drawn to a soul more noble and solitary than any human he had ever encountered. 

 

An ordinary human wouldn’t have lasted this long in the face of his sensuality. 

 

Though Hera had ruined him in this wretched form, her power had not reached his divine authority. 

 

Yet Scylla had lived with him for months and still treated him like an ordinary young man—which meant the walls around her soul were extraordinarily thick.

 

Even Ares, who wouldn’t bother with anyone who wasn’t a beauty, would find himself unable to swing his spear if he met Scylla. 

 

That he had been the first to encounter her, hidden away in these rugged, deep mountains, was his good fortune.

 

His tongue swept across his lips once more. 

 

A surging, writhing madness—like a black serpent—stirred inside him. His body responded. He was tempted. 

 

Every word for desire fit the feeling perfectly.

 

Langsion smiled. Even on that ordinary face, an otherworldly, dreamlike allure seeped through, impossible to conceal. 

 

Just as no one drinks his wine and stays sober, no one could meet his gaze and remain unaffected.

 

“Shall I teach you about men?”

 

A voice so sweet it could melt ears wrapped gently around her, then clung stickily. 

 

Scylla unconsciously scratched at her ear before answering a beat too late.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“I’ll teach you about ‘love.’”

 

“…”

 

“It’s an honor to be able to teach something to you, Master.”

 

The gentle smile he wore only deepened her confusion. She stammered, voicing her suspicion.

 

“W-what you’re saying right now… I’m not sure if I understood it correctly.”

 

“What did you understand?”

 

Without hesitation, Langsion took her hand and pulled it to rest against his own chest. 

 

Scylla’s eyes widened in shock.