Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual Chapter 61

“Did you enjoy your meal?”

 

A neat voice, resonant as a melody, reached his ears.

 

“….”

 

The man turned his head to look at the master of this castle.

 

Pale skin, a tall stature with a broad frame. A prominent bridge of the nose and a sharp jawline drawn thin by weight loss. Eyes steeped in deep fatigue beneath neatly groomed eyebrows.

 

At the very least, he did not give the impression of someone who habitually vomited blood.

 

“….”

 

“Please understand my absence from joining you at the table.”

 

With an elegant motion that made not a sound, he sat opposite the man. It was a refined demeanor, yet from the hand pulling back the chair, the man sensed a peculiar incongruity.

 

‘…He isn’t accustomed to being served in the slightest.’

 

To draw out his own chair by hand despite having so many servants at his beck and call. For anyone who knew the arrogant weight borne by the name ‘Belmares’, this was an alien spectacle that could never have become second nature.

 

A gesture strangely clumsy for someone of innate authority.

 

‘And… frail fingertips.’ 

 

It was a gaunt hand with prominently protruding knuckles.

 

Whether he was exerting no strength or simply unable to do so, either way, one could not help but think of fatigue from overwork, or perhaps an injury.

 

‘He is certainly not in a stable condition.’

 

Noticeable exhaustion, and an invisible yet erratic bloodstream. An air akin to a high-strung quadruped. Even so, he possessed grace.

 

“It is embarrassing to admit, but I have not been well lately, so I have been refraining from activity.”

 

“….”

 

…Not well….

 

‘A simple side effect, or an act meant to lower his prey’s guard?’

 

That Belmares, a completed divine construct, would suffer uncontrollable side effects was difficult to comprehend rationally. Yet the man roughly suppressed the predatory urge rearing its head within him.

 

‘What if that frailty is merely a series of birth pangs to be reborn as a more perfect god?’

 

Though snapping that neck right now might be possible, he lacked the confidence to fully handle the massive blood wrath lurking beyond it. The name Belmares was far too heavy to place a reckless gamble upon. 

 

In the end, the man fled to the conclusion that all of this was merely the castle lord’s elegant display of courtesy.

 

“….”

 

“I have brought a gift.”

 

He already knew. The rich aroma of coffee had given it away.

 

“I know you do not particularly enjoy sweet things, but I added sugar beforehand. I did not put in very much, so it should not be unpleasant to your taste.”

 

He filled his own cup himself. Even if it was out of respect for history and culture, the master personally tilting the pot was too humble to be called mere unpretentiousness.

 

‘He acts as though he is intent on humoring me.’

 

Brown water pouring from the pot’s narrow spout. Whatever the intention, it was an aroma he had not smelled in a long time.

 

“You usually enjoy sitting at the table with other guests, do you not?”

 

“That is true.”

 

“I recall you often serve coffee.”

 

“That is also true.”

 

“The dining room here primarily serves basic coffee… but did the drink suit your palate?”

 

The question was polite yet meticulous. Much like that of a competent subordinate. Without bothering to blink, the man met his gaze.

 

Is this goodwill, or compliance?

 

“It was good.”

 

Whatever it was, this place was comfortable.

 

“Because I could rest.”

 

Since the opponent was young, he did not bother talking around it. 

 

His breathing was comfortable, and every space was cozy. The atrocious things clinging to his body and mind, which he had been maintaining with great effort, melted and vanished away. Like sugar beneath rainwater. 

 

“There was no place in the world where I could remain like this.” 

 

So light was the air in this castle, surreal enough to make him forget even the weight of blood that had crushed him for so long. Intoxicated by this sweetness, the man did not even ask what the other desired.

 

He merely savored the undeserved goodwill.

 

“The alcohol, too….”

 

“The flavor of Franconian white wine is magnificent.”

 

“The Tokaji was wonderful as well.”

 

Sweet wine.

 

“This castle has everything.”

 

Truly, everything.

 

“….”

 

“Though I did not sit beside you,”

 

The castle lord personally poured the next cup. Whenever pale fingers brushed the cup, the wavering steam softly melted the man’s hardened gaze. 

 

Soon, with a restrained gesture, he slid the cup forward.

 

“I have often thought that it would be wonderful to converse on various topics together.”

 

“….”

 

Conversation?

 

It could be so, or perhaps not. 

 

“…I see.”

 

The thick, heavy aroma of coffee held in a silver cup. The man took hold of it.

 

This, too, was sweet.

 

It was delicious.

 

* * *

 

If wine symbolized authority to the aristocrats of that era, coffee was the beverage of conversation.

 

Though this meal has ended, I shall treat you with respect as an equal conversational partner. The host of the banquet personally serving coffee to a guest was a courtesy of that nature. 

 

Lee Yeonwoo gazed at the guest, who was blankly staring at him while holding the cup.

 

“I have also prepared some simple biscuits and pretzels. I wonder if they will suit your palate.”

 

‘Assuming, of course, that my shallow common knowledge holds true.’

 

Lee Yeonwoo clicked his tongue faintly on the inside. Damn hotel in the deep mountains, where not even the internet works.

 

‘Am I doing this right? This is an entirely different realm from reading the room for social life… For starters, there’s bound to be a vast generational gap in our ways of speaking.’

 

He took pride in the veteran instincts he had honed in the silent battles of office politics, but matching the rhythm of an aristocrat from centuries past to show proper courtesies was completely uncharted territory.

 

A situation that had to be navigated purely with the knowledge in his head.

 

‘If a clumsy memory turns out to be wrong, I’m already at a loss as to how to handle the aftermath.’ 

 

He looked at the opponent sipping coffee. 

 

“I am glad it seems to suit your taste.”

 

“It is good.”

 

“Ah, thank you for your kind words. I, too, am someone who enjoys fine cuisine, so conversing with someone like you is a pleasure.”

 

“You enjoy fine cuisine?”

 

His vocabulary had expanded. The reason was, as of yet, unknown.

 

“…Yes, I enjoy focusing on the harmony that unfolds across the palate.”

 

“That is right.”

 

“….”

 

“It is a delightful thing.”

 

He gripped the silver cup as if he would die the moment he let go.

 

“It was a delightful thing.”

 

“Today as well.” 

 

Lee Yeonwoo cut off his deepening nostalgia. It was not a very good flow.

 

“Was it delightful?”

 

“….”

 

His gaze met Lee Yeonwoo’s. As Lee Yeonwoo smiled, he replied.

 

“…Yes.”

 

“Aha, as I thought.”

 

“It was delightful.”

 

“I see.”

 

He added.

 

“I merely arranged a humble gathering. If you happened to sense something beyond what I prepared… that is not due to my skill, but entirely thanks to your own discerning eye.”

 

“….”

 

Only then did the blood-loving guest set the silver cup down on the table. He then began popping the accompanying snacks into his mouth. Swallowing his coffee, Lee Yeonwoo quietly watched him.

 

‘I think about this every time, but just where does he speak from?’

 

Coco was similar, but still.

 

‘To produce a voice without even opening his mouth.’

 

It was too bizarre to dismiss as simple ventriloquism. For the only time the ‘Guest Without a Sense of Taste’ physically opened his mouth was when he chewed and swallowed something.

 

Not just food, but emotions as well.

 

“….”

 

Still, he doesn’t seem to be eating my emotions.

 

‘Is it because this is a meal I’m serving?’

 

Lee Yeonwoo blinked slowly. Before he knew it, the rattling sound that was the guest’s trademark could no longer be heard. Perhaps it was because a satisfying meal lay before him.

 

Setting down his coffee, Lee Yeonwoo continued.

 

“As I mentioned a moment ago, the dining room of this hotel only provides basic coffee. Although several recipes are prepared, the operations are still not without their shortcomings.”

 

He lifted his gaze and looked squarely at the blood-loving guest.

 

“Should I call it a problem of ingredients and manpower?” 

 

“I see.”

 

“However, if it is a friend’s request, I could prepare it personally.”

 

“Friend.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Lee Yeonwoo curled his eyes into a smile.

 

“A friend.”

 

* * *

 

“Friend.”

 

A friend, huh. 

 

“…”

 

It was not a word often uttered in such a setting.

 

Or was it different these days? Yet upon the tables of his memory, it was an exceedingly rare word. Even so, the reason it struck his ear so deeply was that it was truly striking.

 

There is an aroma, and he feels the taste.

 

Just how long had it been?

 

Because it had been far too long….

 

“…Yes.”

 

I see.

 

“May I eat it?”

 

I had not, yet, given up.

 

‘Could I hunt him?’

 

His head spun with appetite.