Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Inn (2)
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When Siwoo stepped out to fetch Amelia, she was already trudging toward the inn, worn out from waiting.
Judging by her expression, if he'd dragged his feet just a little longer, she might've torched this place too.
He'd probably catch hell for saying as much.
"Why are you so late?"
"Sorry. It took forever to beg and plead that it was already booked..."
Amelia's brows furrowed slightly for a moment, but she didn't blow up. She knew full well she was the reason they were stuck spending the night in some rundown inn instead of a villa.
She had the sense to figure that much out, which made it all the more baffling why she'd been such a pain in his ass all this time.
"...What are you doing? Keep drinking."
"Uhahahaha!"
"Whoa, you startled me out of nowhere."
Siwoo had swung by a tavern with Odile once before, so he could've predicted the reaction when Amelia walked in.
Everyone would hush up and start watching her every move.
But his prediction missed the mark spectacularly.
Were they bold? Unfazed? Whatever it was, there was no special reaction to Amelia, who screamed witch and noble from a mile away.
A few sailors snuck glances at her stunning looks before quickly averting their eyes, not wanting to get dragged into trouble.
One or two ogled her figure and face more blatantly, though.
"The rooms are this way."
Siwoo guided her toward the stairs.
But Amelia plopped down at an empty table in the corner.
"Let's grab a quick bite."
The innkeeper, who'd been vigorously polishing glasses moments ago, sauntered over the second she sat.
He spoke in a tone that wasn't particularly groveling.
"This place seems a bit too rowdy for a noble witch like you. Sailors are stubborn and loud—no matter how much I shush 'em, it doesn't stick. I'll bring the food up to your room."
Siwoo was stunned.
The innkeeper's words carried the clear vibe of get out of here and don't ruin the atmosphere—head upstairs.
He'd never seen anyone act so brazen with a witch right in front of them. A first, even in Gehenna.
"I don't like the smell of food lingering in my bedchamber. I'll pay properly, so bring the grub."
True to her fiery nature, Amelia didn't budge an inch.
She stared down the innkeeper—who was easily twice her size—with gleaming gold coins, four of them, laid out on the table.
The innkeeper scratched his sparsely haired scalp.
He seemed to clock right away that she was the unpersuadable type.
"This'll cover scraping together every ingredient in the storeroom with change to spare. Gimme one. Hey, chef! One special course! Make it worth a gold coin—put your back into it!"
The innkeeper pocketed a single coin and bellowed toward the kitchen in his booming voice.
A special course, huh.
In Gehenna taverns, where half of 'em didn't even have a proper menu, who'd have thought.
This place really felt close to the modern world.
Before long, the chef's special course arrived, piled high enough to make the table groan.
A massive steak dominated the spread, dripping juices and blood even before the knife touched it.
But the meat dishes ended there. Instead, they brought out seafood you rarely saw in Tarot Town.
Gambas bubbling with king prawns and scallops in a spicy broth.
A whole boiled lobster the size of your arm, plus grilled fish heads.
Over thirteen dishes crammed the table without a gap.
"Dig in."
Once the chef who'd served it himself shuffled off, Siwoo swallowed hard at the late-night feast—his first in five years.
"Thanks for the meal, Associate Professor!"
The place was so noisy he practically had to shout to be heard.
As Amelia and Siwoo started eating, a murmur suddenly rippled through the room.
"Attention! All named crewmen, prepare to ship out immediately!"
A sharp-suited man strode in from outside, ringing a bell to grab attention.
He called out names from a paper one by one, summoning the sailors.
"What the fuck? Why ship out now?"
"Dunno. Captain says it's urgent."
"Max, Ben, Timmy. Hey, wake that bastard up and drag him along."
"Why me? Take someone else!"
"You nuts under the moonlight? Helmsman's passed out—how the hell we steering without him?"
"Fuck, first land in a month, and bad luck bites me in the ass."
The sailors, who'd been boisterously chatting and laughing, suddenly grabbed their gear and bolted.
For all their crude curses and gripes, they sorted themselves out efficiently and dashed outside.
After the creaking floorboards and slamming doors faded, only about a dozen remained on the inn's first floor.
Siwoo blankly scanned the room while Amelia kept eating, ignoring her surroundings entirely.
By the time all the called sailors had left...
Amelia had finished her meal.
She ate like a bird, so she'd polished it off way faster than him.
The tavern plunged into sudden silence.
A dozen-odd drunks should've kept it lively, but an eerie tension hung over the place.
"Oh my, witch. Fancy seeing you again."
Then came the click of heels as Larissa approached the table.
Amelia dabbed her mouth with a napkin she'd pulled from somewhere and looked up at her primly.
"What do you want?"
"No special business or anything..."
"I'm eating. Can't you see?"
Larissa's gentle approach hit a wall.
Anyone hearing Amelia's sharp tongue for the first time would react that way.
The woman had zero charm or warmth.
"...I just happened to bring some fine wine for an afterparty. But with the sailors shipping out like this, I'm short on folks to share it with."
Larissa set two pristine wine glasses on the table.
She deftly uncorked the bottle and poured.
"Expensive stuff imported from the present world. Sure to suit even your refined palate, witch."
Amelia watched her every move, sizing up her intentions.
Amelia was nobility; Larissa ran a contact point catering to nobles.
This wasn't kindness for nothing.
"Sorry, but buttering me up won't get you anything from me."
"I know. Just a gesture of goodwill."
-Glug glug
The deep red grape wine filled the glasses elegantly.
A fragrant grape aroma tickled the nose, cutting through even the food smells.
Larissa poured for Siwoo's glass too, not just Amelia's.
"Enjoy."
With that, she seemed done, grabbing the rest of the bottle to share a round with the remaining sailors.
Amelia didn't bat an eye at the situation.
Witches commanded awe and fear; people always tried to curry favor. Made sense.
Amelia sipped the wine and grimaced.
Siwoo got why the moment he tried his.
Super dry.
The kind of thing Amelia, who favored sweets, would hate.
"I'll head up first. Finish eating."
Amelia shoved the barely touched glass aside, no lingering attachment, and stood.
"No need. I'm almost done—just give me a sec."
"No need to rush on my account. This is payback for you running around all day for the caretaker gig."
At least his hectic day had earned him this.
"And I still haven't heard back on that. What do you say to being my assistant?"
The offer was still on the table, huh.
Siwoo had figured his earlier slip-up killed his shot. This was an unexpected second chance.
"I can guarantee the same conveniences as now."
Ah, so that's why.
Things clicked into place in Siwoo's head.
Amelia had wanted him— a modern-world mathematician by training—as her assistant for five years.
Siwoo mistook it for a night-service proposition.
Terrified of witches from the slave trader's crash course, he'd assumed danger and turned her down.
Humiliated by a mere slave's rejection, she'd tormented him relentlessly ever since.
Her recent niceness? Paving the way for this renewed offer.
Everything lined up neatly.
Siwoo didn't agonize long.
"Sure."
Just one more year to endure anyway.
As her dedicated assistant, his workload might lighten up.
More time for magic research, maybe finish the spell to escape Gehenna sooner.
No downsides.
Amelia nodded slowly, a hint of satisfaction breaking through her blank expression.
"Good call. See you tomorrow."
She headed upstairs to the rooms.
Letting him eat in peace was her own subtle kindness, probably.
As a slave, feasts like this were rare—especially seafood, a inland luxury.
"Still, thanks for that."
Once Amelia was fully gone, Siwoo dove back into his food.
"Hey, kid."
He was just stabbing into the lobster shell with his fork when...
Someone thudded into the seat across from him.
Familiar voice. It was Fyodor, the muscled brute who'd picked a needless fight earlier.
"What do you want?"
He chugged Amelia's leftover wine, flashing his teeth in a grin.
"You're a male concubine, huh?"
Male concubine, male concubine—that damn phrase again.
He'd never even held Amelia's hand, let alone anything more. Why the hell did he keep hearing it?
"No."
Siwoo shoveled lobster meat as he grumbled back.
The guy creeped him out. Plan: stuff his face fast and bolt upstairs.
But he regretted that quick.
Should've scarfed it down the second that half-evolved gorilla sat.
"Nah, you are. Fuck, lucky bastard. While I'm slapping whore asses, you're sucking witch pussy."
He'd heard sailors were rough and crude, but this level?
Siwoo, elite-treated outside, had never dealt with this breed.
That fist could smash his face, but Siwoo wasn't one to roll over.
Military and slave life had mellowed him some.
"Then go slap more whore asses. Why park at my table and yap?"
With their size gap...
Fyodor's face went slack, like he never expected backtalk.
Just for a second.
Then came the knowing sneer as he spewed more filth.
"Came to hear some juicy details from the witch's pet boy."
Fyodor dragged his chair closer and patted Siwoo's shoulder.
"C'mon, kid—spill. Don't hog it. How's that hot witch in bed? Looked young—pubes grown in yet?"
"This guy's insane."
Siwoo was floored.
Amelia was a witch.
If he really were her concubine, he'd rat this out.
What made him so cocky and rude?
Drunk off his ass?
"What color're her nips? C'mon? Why clam up? Fuck, if it's good, share the wealth."
Watching him spew lewd crap about Amelia soured Siwoo's mood and appetite.
Not wanting bigger trouble, Siwoo shrugged off the arm on his shoulder and finished eating.
"Watch your mouth. Know who she is?"
"Kuhahaha!"
-Thud!
His vision flashed white.
When he came to, his head was smashed into the lobster plate.
Fyodor's burly arm had slammed it down.
"Like you know shit, you whore."
Ringing in his ears.
Lobster shell shards dug into his cheek; sauce burned his nostrils.
Barely processing what hit him, a filthy voice rang out.
"Bet you ran crying to tattle. Too bad."
A vile snicker, no effort to hide it.
"You won't see that witch bitch again."