Chapter 876
Chapter 876
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 876
Chapter Title: Leisure
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Linne had worn a "collar" for hundreds of years.
The Curse of Deprivation—an intentional handicap passed down through the brand of every previous Sword Witch—was the name of that collar.
Its role and purpose were simple, yet utterly heinous.
It stripped away all meaning from life except for the "moment of becoming stronger."
In truth, countless Sword Witches before Linne had perished in agony without even reaching a century of life.
It was a shackle truly worthy of the name "curse," restricting not only sensations tied to happiness but even mental fulfillment.
But by some stroke of incredible luck, Linne had found a different path from her predecessors.
She met her husband and had the shackle removed.
For that alone, Linne was willing to devote her body and soul to him for life.
At first, it felt unfamiliar.
Hundreds of years was no small time, after all.
The forcibly imposed shape of her life had influenced both her thought patterns and behavior.
Even when she tried to simply sit still, the curse that used to whip at her from behind was gone, but doing nothing now gnawed at her with anxiety and impatience.
Even after returning to the Hokkaido branch of the Waypoint Organization at the end of the group trip, nothing had changed much.
Just entering the bathroom for a bath left her mouth parched with discomfort and tension.
She still didn't sleep, spending nights sitting on the floor with her back straight, entering meditation.
She could only find brief respite while hunting homunculi.
Even with the situation changed, she couldn't adapt easily, leaving her adrift in a vague sense of detachment, neither here nor there.
She wandered through each day as if floating.
Her husband—who arrived with a wonderful dress as a gift—was the first to notice Linne's unease.
"Lady Linne, that seems too hard on you."
"I'm comfortable like this."
There was no need to seek out even greater happiness.
Her husband, who already made her happier than she deserved, was right by her side.
Pursuing more comfort and life's pleasures felt like forcing herself into ill-fitting clothes.
"Then you don't eat separately either?"
"I eat a little."
"And you don't sleep?"
"Sleep makes me anxious."
"What do you do for leisure?"
"I meditate."
"......"
Siu pondered for a long while.
The worry and concern on his face delighted Linne.
The person she loved more than anyone was worrying about her so earnestly.
"Husband. I'm fine."
But separately from that, she didn't want to keep making him worry.
She was content as is, so there was no need for him to trouble himself— she was about to say as much when he cut her off.
"No, that won't do. I have to give you homework."
"......"
"Starting today, you must do one enjoyable thing each day without fail, write it in a journal, and show it to me next time we meet."
"Husband. That's not a journal. That's a report."
"But if we don't do it this way, I'll keep worrying."
It was a hassle, an annoyance.
It went against Linne's own wishes, too.
In the past, she wouldn't have accepted such an unwelcome task even at swordpoint.
But when the one making the request was her husband, it was different.
"Is this a command from my husband?"
"Come on, don't say it so stiffly. It's a request. A request. Just don't write anything fake or half-hearted."
"...Understood."
Linne, saddled with homework, began recording bits of "life's pleasures" from that day on.
The problem was she had no clue where to start.
She had to tackle "leisure"—something with zero connection to her life—like homework, one per day.
But no matter how tricky the request, this was her husband's command, made for her sake.
She couldn't half-ass it.
"What is it?"
So Linne sought out her longtime rival, the woman who would be her eternal competitor.
"I want to talk. Tiferet."
"Very well."
Eloa Tiferet.
Once Linne's goal and rival, now a sister wife sharing one husband.
Linne knew harmonious relationships between wives brought peace to the household.
She resolved to get along with the other lovers.
But with Eloa, for some strange reason, the distance refused to close.
Perhaps it was the warrior instinct left in Linne, refusing to acknowledge a pretender.
Still, to Linne's eyes, Eloa was a woman who knew how to enjoy life's finer things.
She was decent at cooking, and above all, a heavy drinker.
Some might say that's nothing special, but "things you don't need to do"—or rather, "waste of time and money"—were the essence of leisure.
In that sense, Tiferet, who never let go of her drink, blending daily life and leisure seamlessly, might be the perfect person to ask for advice.
Her rigid nature and disciplined warrior lifestyle mirrored Linne's own, making it all the better.
"This is unusual. What brings you here?"
As expected, Eloa seemed surprised that Linne, who had never sought a private meeting outside work hours, had come of her own accord.
She was even more surprised by Linne's request.
"Recommend some whiskey?"
"Yes."
Their relationship had improved somewhat since joining the subjugation together, but until then, they had opposed each other in a strange rivalry.
The days of enmity had been that long.
"Fine."
Siu had always hoped Linne and Eloa would get along, and they couldn't stay like this forever.
Eloa herself had been unsure how to approach Linne.
But now Linne was making a personal request so readily?
Wasn't this Linne's way of extending an olive branch?
Since Linne had bowed her head first, Eloa softened her usual businesslike demeanor, welcoming her into the guest room with a gentle expression.
"But why whiskey all of a sudden? I didn't think you were one to enjoy drinking."
"I'm starting now."
"Understood. Follow me. It's in the business room."
Linne silently followed Eloa, whose footsteps thudded along.
Her steps seemed lighter than usual.
As if she were excited, eager to show off?
"What do you think?"
"......"
Linne was momentarily speechless.
Just like in Seoul, the suite on the top floor provided to Eloa and Linne had two lounges and five bedrooms.
With only three people, one office room for work had been left empty.
Eloa had claimed it, so Linne was seeing inside for the first time.
But what was this?
The bookshelves were packed with all sorts of liquor bottles.
The quantity was staggering.
Even if they packed all of Eloa's personal belongings, it wouldn't fill half this much.
"My collection."
Eloa's face lit up with pride, like a parent gazing at their child, as she admired the array of bottles on the shelves.
Then her sparkling eyes turned to Linne, expectant of her reaction after showing off her treasured toys.
"...Impressive."
"Isn't it?"
"Have a seat. I'll teach you one by one."
-Thud! Thunk! Clunk!
With that, Eloa selected a few bottles and set them on the table.
She lined up several Glencairn glasses beside them.
The wide-bottomed, tulip-shaped Glencairn glasses gathered whiskey's aroma, allowing for a deeper appreciation.
"Have you ever tried whiskey?"
"No."
"Perfect. I'll teach you from the basics. Whiskey is a spirit over 40% ABV, made by fermenting barley or other grains with yeast, then distilling. Broadly, there's single malt from one distillery's barley, blended from various originals, and bourbon distilled in America. There's also rum from sugarcane byproducts and Cognac from grape wine."
Her enthusiastic explanation and unusually talkative demeanor showed just how excited Eloa was.
Many witches were drinkers, but few loved alcohol as much as Eloa.
Most preferred wine or champagne, making whiskey a somewhat niche taste.
In other words, Eloa's feelings toward Linne were like a veteran gamer spotting a newbie humbly seeking guidance in a notoriously tough game.
She set aside the mental walls between them for the moment, vowing fervent instruction.
"The world of whiskey is profound. No two whiskeys taste the same. Once you acquire a taste for their subtle flavors, you'll find other liquors lacking."
"I see. I didn't know."
Just as when learning about relationships from Yebin or cooking from Zlata, Linne's attitude toward learning was ideal.
She set aside her stubbornness, keeping quiet and listening attentively.
"Since it's your first time, let's start with a single malt."
Pleased by her attitude, Eloa brought out a higher-grade bottle than planned.
It was a rare gift from Assemblyman Kim Jun-beop not long ago.
"'Macallan 30 Year Old Sherry Oak.' As the name says, an aged friend matured for 30 years in sherry oak."
"What's sherry oak?"
"Sherry oak are barrels used to age sherry wine, a specialty from southern Spain. The oak casks used for maturation are one factor determining flavor. Depending on the cask and region, tastes vary wildly. No need for more talk—give it a sip first."
Eloa poured whiskey into the glass before Linne.
One ounce, about 30mL, was the standard for a dram.
Linne stared at the clear amber liquid pooling at the bottom of her glass.
"Give it a try. No rush—treat it like a conversation, savor it slowly. Take a tiny sip, roll it on your tongue, swallow gently. Then exhale through your nose for the peak flavors."
"Alright."
Linne took a small sip as Eloa instructed.
Utterly unaware of the tragedy that would strike in one hour.