Chapter 145
Chapter 145
After his conversation with Viscountess Müller had ended.
A certain grand mansion on the outskirts of the capital boasted an old-fashioned yet sturdy exterior.
Wilhelm passed through the mansion's iron gates—not the Academy's main entrance—and arrived before the front door.
A middle-aged butler who had come out to greet him in advance bent deeply at the waist and offered a courteous bow.
"Welcome, General."
But there was something truly strange about the form of that greeting.
For a servant of a noble household, the details of one's movements should be smooth, yet every motion should end with crisp, military precision.
Yet the butler before him still seemed awkward with that smoothness.
His fingertips were pressed tightly against the trouser seam, giving him the stiff appearance of a soldier standing before a parade-review platform.
A small snicker spread across Wilhelm's lips at the sight.
"When are you planning to get that army stiffness out of you? You're wearing a tailcoat, but you're still a noncommissioned officer through and through."
The butler gave an awkward laugh at Wilhelm's teasing rebuke.
"After spending my whole life wearing a uniform and saluting, it's not as easy as it looks to change. Hahaha."
"Heh heh, you old rascal."
Wilhelm smiled fondly and lightly patted the sturdy butler's shoulder a couple of times.
Men who could not abandon the military discipline engraved deep in their bones, even years after leaving the service.
That was why Wilhelm found a soldier's bluntness more comfortable than aristocratic etiquette.
"Lead the way."
"Yes! This way, please!"
The butler answered energetically and led the way.
A short while later.
Creak.
The door to a parlor deep within the mansion opened.
The heavy scents of cigar smoke and coffee brushed against the tip of his nose.
Several old gentlemen with heads full of white hair sat around a massive round table in the center of the parlor, but their eyes were as sharp as they had been in their active years.
"Oh, Wilhelm. You've come."
"Welcome."
The old gentlemen half rose from their seats to greet Wilhelm.
They had all once commanded the Empire's front lines, earned stars on their shoulders, and led the military as legendary generals.
Though they had now removed their uniforms and retired, the spirit they exuded still brought their prime to mind.
"Everyone's been here since early morning, I see."
Wilhelm casually found an empty seat and exchanged light nods with his comrades around the table.
Once seated, Wilhelm's gaze naturally turned toward one wall of the parlor.
Instead of an ornate display cabinet or an aristocratic portrait, a painting of intense colors hung there.
A blood-red moon floated alone in a pitch-black night sky.
A fleeting wistfulness crossed the wrinkles around Wilhelm's eyes as he gazed at the painting.
*
Clatter.
After the butler set steaming coffee before Wilhelm and quietly left the room, the atmosphere around the round table grew even more solemn.
An old gentleman seated at the head of the table, wearing an antique monocle over his right eye, rested his chin on his interlaced fingers and spoke.
"So."
The sharp gaze beyond the monocle turned toward Wilhelm.
"How did your conversation with Viscountess Müller go this morning?"
Every old gentleman's gaze turned simultaneously toward Wilhelm's lips.
In the silence, where even breathing had quieted, Wilhelm calmly lifted his coffee cup.
After savoring its bitter aroma, he set the cup down and showed them a carefree smile.
Because today, he could deliver genuinely good news to these old tigers.
"She agreed."
"Oh……!"
"What a relief. A real relief!"
The old gentlemen around the table rejoiced all at once.
Some released long sighs of relief, while others gripped the shoulders of the comrades beside them and shared their joy.
Everyone gathered here had considered the former head of Rohanna, the covert family of the south, a comrade who shared hotter blood with them than anyone else.
He had quietly supported the Imperial Army, taking charge without complaint of secret projects on which the Empire's fate depended and perilous military supply operations.
But ten years ago, when he died under questionable circumstances and House Rohanna was swept into a vortex of power struggles,
they could not easily extend a helping hand to Rohanna.
For a soldier to privately interfere in another noble's succession to a title would have been an act of disrespect toward His Majesty the Emperor.
'But things are different now.'
Wilhelm looked around at his comrades around the table with a reassuring gaze.
Everyone gathered here had now cast off the shackles of the military uniform and become civilians.
"You truly accomplished something tremendous, Wilhelm."
The old gentleman with the monocle offered heartfelt praise.
"Not just anyone, but the head of the Müller Trading Company herself. I never knew that a man who had spent his whole life gripping a sword hilt could talk someone around so well."
"If only this matter proceeds smoothly and troubled Rohanna can be restored to normal."
"Yes. Then we can face that former head of the family in the afterlife and close our eyes in peace."
At his comrades' praise, Wilhelm laughed heartily and shook his head.
"Save your praise. In truth, it wasn't my shallow three-inch tongue that brought this matter to fruition."
"Hmm?"
"You know that's true. We owe it to the second son of a Court Count, who willingly made himself the bait."
Though it did cost him quite a lot in return for talking her around.
Deep wrinkles formed at the corners of Wilhelm's eyes, shaping a satisfied smile.
* * *
The place Lucius and I arrived at was like a tasteful hotel lobby, with marble covering the floors and walls.
……Only.
The problem was that beneath the chandelier, a grill had been placed squarely atop a luxurious gold-trimmed marble table, with samgyeopsal sizzling away on it.
Sizzle──!
As the grease splattered, the violent aroma of meat spread in every direction.
"……Whoa."
I rested my chin on my hand and muttered blankly as I stared at the grill.
"I'm actually seeing this."
This was exactly one of the side episodes that had come to mind alongside the troublesome main story about the Red Moon Liberation Front.
A high-end samgyeopsal restaurant with luxury interiors that could rival a hotel lobby.
What the hell was the original author thinking, taking things this far and then going completely overboard like this? Who puts samgyeopsal in a fantasy world?
Of course, I wouldn't mind living here for the rest of my life.
"This is currently the most popular and famous place in the capital."
Lucius, seated across from me, wiped his hands with a napkin and chuckled.
"When this restaurant first opened, people wondered whether noble young ladies would come to such a grease-splattered place."
"Quite the opposite."
I stared at the meat on the grill and tossed out a remark.
"It must have become a place they'd be desperate to eat at, even if it meant ruining their clothes."
I couldn't say whether samgyeopsal really had that kind of power from the locals' perspective.
But I was Korean to the bone, so the sound of that sizzling grease was enough to bring tears to my eyes with homesickness.
"It's all cooked. Please enjoy."
The employee in a tailcoat, holding tongs and scissors, bowed politely and withdrew.
'He grills samgyeopsal wearing that.'
The incongruity was unreal.
I picked up the crystal whiskey bottle beside me.
I poured golden whiskey into two on-the-rocks glasses filled with ice.
I pushed the glass of whiskey across to Lucius.
"If you don't want to drink, then don't."
"No."
Lucius accepted the glass and gave a light nod.
"Today, I feel like having a drink."
This guy didn't seem like the type of character who liked drinking.
Why was he acting like this today?
Anyway, I lifted my own glass, lightly wet my throat, and immediately picked up my fork.
'Why are there no chopsticks when there's samgyeopsal?'
I should've known from the fact that they served whiskey instead of soju.
Still, it was a minor issue at this point.
I speared a thick, well-grilled slice of samgyeopsal and lightly dipped it into a dish of coarse salt mixed with black pepper.
Then I placed a spicy slice of jalapeño on top and sent the whole thing straight into my mouth.
"……Mmm."
It was incredible.
The fatty pork's juices burst in my mouth, the salt's savoriness sharply brought out the umami, and finally the jalapeño's spicy kick swept away the greasiness.
No sooner had I swallowed the meat than I took a sip of whiskey.
Whoosh.
The strong alcohol slid down my esophagus and washed away the grease completely.
It was a half-baked restaurant in a half-baked world.
But damn, it tasted like a cure for homesickness.
Lucius, who had been elegantly picking at his meat across from me, set down his fork and spoke.
"So I needn't explain it to you?"
"What?"
"The way of eating this meat. It's a rather unfamiliar food culture, so first-time visitors are usually quite flustered. But you seem extremely familiar with it, Lord Cassian."
I snorted.
"Whatever else, you can skip this explanation."
"Have you been here before?"
"Not exactly. Still, I know this better than you do. Absolutely. I'd bet my hand on it."
As I speared another piece of meat, Lucius let out a small, hollow laugh.
"Is that really something worth betting a hand over?"
"Of course. Obviously. There's a proper way to treat meat."
For a while, we focused on silently emptying the shrinking pile of meat on the grill and our glasses of whiskey.
Once we were comfortably full and the alcohol was pleasantly circulating through our veins,
I brought up the real subject first.
"So."
Tap.
I set my fork down on the small plate before me and asked,
"What exactly did you want to hear about this preview?"
I had separately asked my older brother to plan a course around the Argen Botanical Garden.
Lucius had also boasted that he would arrange the place and time himself once the after-date was set, so neither side had finalized the exact date course yet.
More importantly, he probably didn't know that I had prepared a course separately.
In the first place, the course this siscon lunatic had planned was bound to be MAXIMUM burden, and probably so lavish it would feel like we ought to march straight down the aisle any second, which was why I'd asked my brother to prepare a backup plan in advance.
"Ah. As for this weekend's date course……"
As though he'd been waiting for this, Lucius's entire expression began to change.
'Ah.'
That expression. That eye-smile.
I decided I had to strike first before he even opened his mouth.
"I don't want to hear it. Never mind."
"You asked me, though. That's rather cruel. Why?"
"Obviously."
I pointed at him and tossed out a remark.
"It's written all over you that you've planned a very, very, fucking burdensome course."
"Oh dear."
Lucius exaggeratedly shrugged his shoulders.
"Even though I haven't let anything slip or told you a single specific detail?"
"Of course. It's all written on your face, you idiot."
"But."
Lucius's narrowed eyes grew slightly sharper.
"Then are you saying you'd stand up my little sister without even preparing?"
"Do I look like I would?"
What, was I crazy?
As if I wanted that siscon lunatic to skin me alive.
"I've already planned a different schedule."
"Oh."
Lucius's eyes widened into perfect circles.
"Where?"
"The greenhouse garden. The tea house inside the Argen Botanical Garden."
I downed the whiskey remaining in my glass and added,
"It's sunny and warm there. It'll be nice for taking a walk, and good for drinking tea, too."
At that, Lucius's lips slowly parted.
"……Sounds good."
Lucius nodded with a genuinely satisfied expression.
"It's really good. Much more suitable for Sophia than any of the places I had prepared."
I hadn't planned it myself, but I had to compliment my brother's eye for these things.
"So stop with this date-preview nonsense."
"Is there something else you'd like to say?"
I nodded lightly and looked straight into his blue eyes.
In truth, there was something else I'd wanted to say for a while—something more important than a date course.
The sense of incongruity I'd felt ever since he appeared during the afternoon lecture.
This guy would never come looking for me for no reason.
He had, in fact, come looking for me today using the preview as an excuse.
But how should I put it?
The preview felt like an excuse.
"Did something happen to you today?"
"……"
Clink.
Lucius froze halfway through lifting his ice-filled glass.
He simply stared at me without answering.
His ever-smiling, narrowed eyes opened slightly, and the deep fatigue within them suddenly surged into view.
"What do you mean?"
After a moment, he pulled the corners of his mouth back up and answered evasively.
"What could possibly have happened to me? It's simply a peaceful day spent eating this wonderful meat with you, Lord Cassian, and planning the weekend."
"You're lying."
Lucius's gaze, which had been fixed on his empty glass, turned toward me.
"You really don't want me to ask?"
The composure on Lucius's face wavered.
The narrow-eyed character had finally dropped his poker face.
Good grief, look at me accomplishing something impressive.