Chapter 63: Face to Face
Chapter 63: Face to Face
Translation: Godtl
This year's Red Moon lasted only three days, shorter than usual.
There were 122 fatalities and 453 injured, but even these numbers were significantly lower than the annual average.
The only notable incident was the sudden appearance of the End Cult.
Since an Archbishop had made their move, it could have easily escalated into a horrific disaster, but thanks to Isolde Blackwood's heroic efforts, the initial containment was successful.
Because of this, the Victory Festival proceeded as planned after the Great Subjugation.
"Waiter! Another bottle of your most expensive liquor here! Our guild ventured near a Crisis-grade monster! Everyone, raise a glass to these heroes!"
"Kehaha! You should've seen me blow that werewolf's jaw clean off!"
"To Billy! He would've been the loudest one cheering right now... Damn it!"
"Ah, fuck, what kind of distribution payout is this? Who's supposed to lick this off their nose?"
"A Black Mage? That was a close call. If it weren't for the Witch stepping in, we'd be mourning the dead right now."
"Hey, don't you have that Cola stuff here? A special day like this calls for something special!"
"Beneath the setting crimson moon~ Under our heroes' blades~ The fallen monsters piled high as mountains~ Oh, peace has come to Nortaris~"
The tavern district of Litchfield Square was brimming with the fervor of celebration.
Outdoor tables were packed to the brim with extra chairs, and those who couldn't secure a spot sat haphazardly on the ground, laughing raucously.
The scent of roasting meat, the pungent aroma of spilled ale, and the stifling odor of sweat mingled together, thickening the air with the essence of festival.
Someone bellowed drunken boasts at the top of their lungs, spilling their drink in the process, which then splashed onto another's clothes and sparked an argument.
Even as brawls broke out among groups, they'd suddenly link arms and burst into chorus along with the Victory Song played by the minstrels.
It was absolute chaos, but wasn't that what festivals were all about?
"My, the sounds of celebration reach even here."
The feverish heat of the Victory Festival, intensified by the tropical night, extended all the way to the private hospital standing tall on the outskirts.
"Lady Isolde, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine."
Setting down a fruit basket, Isolde—dressed in patient garb—flexed her newly regenerated arm in response to Brok's concern.
"If even Lady Isolde got injured this badly, that bastard must've been no ordinary piece of shit. Keugh, I should've been by your side."
"If you were there, you'd just have been another person needing care."
"What nonsense? My Shadowless Moon-Cutting Slash would've split it in two with one strike."
"Peel the apple."
Kailus sulked after being scolded by Ravina and began peeling an apple.
"Don't hurt, Witch. They say it's sad to grow old and ache. That cold bastard Han-bin doesn't even show his face at a time like this."
"Idiot, I told you not to bring up Han-bin."
Though not particularly close, they were still comrades who had fought side by side for years.
Except for Stella, who had urgently departed for the Papal Court to deliver her report, they had all come to visit as soon as the Red Moon ended.
And now they had to peel apples and hear the full story of what had happened.
"So, Lady Isolde. I've heard the brief report, but what exactly happened? An Archbishop made their move personally?"
Isolde studied the poorly peeled apple from Kailus before popping it into her mouth and answering.
"I think they were after me from the start. Wanted to use me as a vessel to breed Familiars, it seems."
"See, I told you there isn't a single sane one among Black Mages."
"After years of silence, it seems they've resumed their activities."
Any incident involving a Black Mage was always an urgent matter.
And if an Archbishop was involved, the situation warranted thorough scrutiny.
"Investigators from both the Church and the royal family will arrive tomorrow. A request for cooperation came in, and I took the liberty of accepting it. Is that alright?"
"Do as you please. I need to sleep now."
"Huh? Already? We just got here."
"Sleepy."
Isolde pulled the covers over her head, making it clear the conversation was over.
"Oh dear, you're not feeling well, and we must have overstayed our welcome. We'll take our leave now."
"I'll come visit again tomorrow. I'm so relieved you're safe."
"Sleep well, everyone."
Taking Brok's cue, his companions quietly exited the hospital room.
"You can come out now."
At Isolde's words, the curtains fluttered.
Emerging from the shadows was Han-bin.
VIP hospital rooms naturally prioritized privacy above all else.
Without a visitor's pass, one couldn't enter—but this was Han-bin, who had infiltrated the highest-security facilities of enemy nations as if they were his own home.
Sneaking in for a visit while avoiding attention was child's play for him.
"How is your arm?"
"It grew back."
The real challenge was the atmosphere between them.
The awkwardness stretched in proportion to the time they'd spent apart.
After exchanging just one formal question and answer, an uncomfortable silence settled between them.
There were so many things he wanted to ask.
Yet the words wouldn't come.
'Why don't you try starting a conversation first? The other person might... perhaps even have thoughts that Lord Jurgen failed to consider...'
Until he'd heard Serena's advice, Han-bin had harbored a strange optimism that talking to Isolde would flow naturally once they met.
But even after overcoming countless obstacles to face her, Isolde remained shrouded in a thick, moss-like ambiguity.
'Any conversation will do. One step at a time, carefully. That's what matters.'
Right. Just as Serena had advised—one step at a time.
He'd start with this.
"I heard you examined Lady Penelope's circuits."
Isolde's Life allowed her to directly intervene in another's magic circuits.
It was Isolde who had opened a new path for Han-bin—once deemed irrecoverable as a knight—by grafting part of her own circuits onto his.
Back then, their relationship had been on the verge of collapse, making it a one-sided donation—but that was just how devoted Isolde had always been to him.
"Yeah. I cleaned them up."
But Penelope was unmistakably an outsider.
No—to Isolde, who had occasionally displayed childish possessiveness, Penelope might have been less than an outsider.
If so, why had she approached Penelope? And why show her kindness?
"Why? Was there something wrong with her?"
"..."
"And you'll have to tell me why you and Penelope went to the Abyss together too."
"..."
Before he knew it, he was interrogating her.
Han-bin steadied himself.
This wasn't the "conversation" Serena had meant.
Come to think of it, Isolde had shielded Penelope from the Black Mage until the moment she lost her arm.
Had Isolde harbored ill intent, she could have easily engineered a different outcome long before Han-bin arrived.
This was an overreaction.
A hypersensitivity born from seeing parallels with the Viche incident.
"I just..."
After a long silence, Isolde finally spoke.
"...wanted to make up with you, Han-bin."
"Make up...?"
"I... don't know how. She seemed like someone you cared about. I thought... if I was nice to her, you'd be happy."
The answer struck him like a physical blow—utterly unexpected.
At last.
It was as if a layer of oiled paper had been peeled away, revealing Isolde with sudden clarity.
He saw her now—fingers clutching weakly at the hem of her clothes, lips trembling, unable to meet his eyes.
Like a child afraid of being scolded.
"Han-bin... I'm sorry about what happened back then."
Her apology, whispered weakly, sent memories flooding back.
Isolde casting a sealing spell to prevent the Descent.
That expression of despair, resolve—and above all, the look of a lost child.
Someone had to be sacrificed.
Just as Han-bin had wanted to sacrifice himself for everyone, Viche, too, would have gladly given her life for them all.
That was the kind of person she was.
And so, there were no sinners in that situation.
He already knew the answer.
He just hadn't wanted to know—hadn't wanted to face it properly.
Trapped in grief over losing someone precious, he hadn't looked back at Isolde.
"Were you... very angry?"
Only now did he realize.
Isolde was neither a Witch who transcended Human Reason, nor a self-righteous, childish hero.
She was just...
a little more.
Just a clumsy person, that's all.
He pulled up a chair and sat beside her.
Isolde's shoulders trembled slightly.
"Master, have you tried the cola?"
"Yes, Penelope gave me some."
"How does it taste?"
"It was delicious. Worthy of you singing its praises."
Caught off guard by the sudden change of topic, Isolde looked bewildered but played along.
"Recently, I've been working on something called a culinary revolution."
"What's that?"
"It's about eating food that's actually fit for humans. Isn't that what living is all about? Now that we've laid the foundation with cola, I'm planning to move to the next stage."
Isolde blinked rapidly.
Han-bin grasped her hand.
It was a small hand.
"Once things settle down a bit, I'll come visit. With Viche."
From outside the window came the dull thud of drums.
The fireworks marking the finale of the Victory Festival were painting the night sky.
The flickering light filtering into the hospital room tickled her cheeks.
"This time, I won't be too late."
"Yes, I'll wait."
In silence, they watched as petals of light bloomed and faded in the sky.
It was a belated reconciliation.
The Y&P headquarters was temporarily set up on the second floor of the cola direct sales store.
Though called a sales store, it was originally just a remodeled warehouse.
The second floor had been a shabby storage room where the caretaker used to live.
Thanks to Penelope filling it with various furnishings, it now maintained at least a minimal level of dignity, if nothing else.
On an elegant carpet that clashed with the shabby storage room...
"Serena, do I look any different?"
Penelope executed an elegant natural turn for Serena.
"Ugh... I really don't want to answer this question..."
Dangerous.
Based on Serena's direct and indirect experience, choosing the wrong words in situations like this always led to prolonged headaches.
Even back in the academy days, a wrong answer had earned her the retort, "What would a country bumpkin know about fashion? Ohohoho!"
"Stop dawdling and look closely."
"Ah! I think I see it now."
Still, this problem was relatively easy.
As Penelope puffed out her chest, a tiny ruby-encrusted brooch glinted.
"The answer is... a 2nd Class Dawn Medal...?"
"Not bad. You might be ready for marriage after all. How about it? Impressive, isn't it?"
Originally, Penelope had been aiming for a 3rd Class Dawn Medal, but her contributions in subduing the Black Mage earned her an upgrade to 2nd Class.
"Hmm, is that all...?"
"What?"
Serena's indifferent tone made Penelope's eyebrows shoot up, prompting a hasty explanation.
"W-well... compared to Lady Penelope's greatness, it's not that prestigious of a medal, is it...?"
"True. It's just some cheap medal they hand out by the dozen every year. But this means Y&P gets a 17% tax deduction for the next three years. I'm satisfied."
"Surprisingly, you're not that hung up on honor..."
Well, if she were, she wouldn't have gotten so deeply involved with the underworld.
Serena nodded to herself, finding this explanation plausible.
But more importantly...
"You seem remarkably cheerful for someone who encountered a Black Mage. Weren't you scared?"
Ever since her kidnapping, Serena's life goal had become "avoiding any entanglement with Black Mages." Penelope's boldness astonished her.
Serena still couldn't sleep without keeping the lights on.
"Of course I was scared. But my medal got upgraded, so I've decided to just close my eyes and forget about the misfortune of meeting a Black Mage."
From Penelope's perspective, it was a profitable deal.
Her medal got upgraded, she had her magic circuits cleansed, and she even got to meet the Han-bin she so admired.
Though...
'Keep our meeting a secret. It's part of a special mission concerning the kingdom's fate.'
She couldn't brag about that part, which was a shame.
As she was ruminating on this regret, she noticed Serena staring at her like a puppy that had broken a flowerpot.
"What are you looking at?"
"Oh, may I ask just one thing?"
"Since when have you ever cared about my feelings?"
"Well, it's just... have you shown it to Jurgen as well? The medal."
Whether the two had reconciled or not was a matter of grave importance to Serena.
Not that she could directly ask, "Did you fight and make up?"—so she opted for a more roundabout approach.
"..."
Penelope stared intently at Serena.
Her tea-red eyes held a spoonful of displeasure.
"Why, why do you ask?"
"...Just because you're annoying."
"Th-that's the first time I've ever heard that..."
She hadn't met Jurgen yet.
Not out of stubborn refusal or anything—she'd only just returned after giving statements and explanations regarding the Black Mage.
Truth be told, compared to their initial quarrel, most of the hurt and disappointment had faded.
When you thought about it, their fight hadn't even been that serious.
Just petty reasons like, 'Why are you sharing secrets only with Serena? Hmph!'
And when she thought she might die at the hands of the Black Mage, hadn't she regretted their fight?
But she wouldn't apologize first.
This time, Jurgen was unequivocally in the wrong.
So it was only right that he should be the one to come and apologize!
"Are you both here?"
Right on cue, Jurgen appeared.
"Ahem, Miss Penelope, I heard about your exploits. I'm relieved to see you unharmed."
"..."
"Oh, you received a medal too? The Second-Class Dawn Medal. That's quite an impressive honor, isn't it?"
"..."
Though the conversation was perfectly ordinary for the situation, Penelope noticed something.
The stiffness in Jurgen's demeanor.
He seemed acutely aware of his wrongdoing—unnaturally so.
In the tense moment, Serena swallowed hard, like an audience member at the climax of a play.
As for Penelope...
"Hmph, for an alchemist of my caliber, an Archbishop is hardly worth mentioning."
Fine, she decided to forgive him.
Of course, Penelope would remember this.
Jurgen, who had secretly shared something with Serena and hidden it from her.
She couldn't just let it slide.
She resolved to create a secret so tantalizing that Jurgen would die of curiosity later...
"Hmm?"
...But as she studied Jurgen standing awkwardly before her, something felt off.
"Stand over here for a second."
"Why all of a sudden?"
"Quickly, turn around."
"Eek! P-Penelope! I'm still here, you know...!"
Penelope positioned Jurgen like a mannequin, then stepped so close behind him it seemed she might embrace him from the back.
Serena held her breath, covering her eyes with her hands but peeking through her fingers to watch Penelope's bold reconciliation attempt.
"Hmm."
Penelope, standing behind Jurgen.
She held her hand flat against her own forehead, as if measuring height, then...
This time, she spread both arms wide like a tailor, gauging the breadth of his shoulders.
"Hmm..."
Just as she thought. The resemblance was uncanny.
This height, this back, this build.
Wasn't it eerily similar to Han-bin's back—the one who had protected her in the Demon Realm?
"Wh-what are you doing?"
Even Jurgen's flustered voice had a certain depth to it, something... something...
"Impossible."
Penelope let out a dry laugh.
"Miss Penelope, what in the world are you doing? Standing a person up like this."
"Your back is annoying too."
She must have lost her mind.
Why would someone of Han-bin's caliber stoop to making cola with Penelope?
Not that Jurgen wasn't skilled, but compared to Han-bin...
Han-bin, who had saved Penelope so gallantly in her direst moment.
Han-bin, whose alchemy reached unfathomable heights, who had effortlessly subdued the terrifying Archbishop.
Ah, if only she could have spoken with him a little longer...
Her only regret was getting nothing more than an autograph.
Still, it was his personal signature, so she'd already framed it with great care.
Perhaps the greatest reward from this expedition.
"So why are you here?"
"While you were earning your merits, something came up that I needed to report."
"What is it?"
"Didn't Keystone Company complete construction on their bottling factory around the time of the Red Moon?"
Jurgen pulled out a document with a meaningful smile.
"The first week's license revenue statement."