Chapter 623: The Season is Autumn (12)
Chapter 623: The Season is Autumn (12)
The past few months had been a series of goodbyes.
My childhood friend had gone missing, a cherished junior had left, and my fiancée had headed for the Great Forest with her master.
Even my beloved wife had once bid me farewell, had she not?
It was a week before the relic discovered in the Haster family's gold mine was due to arrive.
The Saintess, who had been secluded in the temple for some time, paid a visit to my room.
I had just pulled a bottle of cheap whiskey from the cupboard and was about to fill my glass when I froze in place. I had been overindulging lately, and I knew it.
Naturally, the Saintess—with whom I was living in what was essentially a common-law marriage—wasn't going to look upon this kindly. She had gone so far as to beg me to cut back on the alcohol, pointing out that my body hadn't even fully recovered yet, but my drinking showed no signs of stopping.
Alcohol was an anesthetic for the emotions.
Humanity’s obsession with escaping pain can be quite tenacious. Even I, who thought I had mastered every form of physical agony, could not overcome the wounds of the heart.
I had no choice but to dull my heart by downing cheap whiskey.
Of course, it wasn't the right way to cope.
I knew that well, which was why I usually restricted my drinking to the middle of the night. There would be nothing more pathetic than being so drunk during the day that I couldn't function.
To be honest, a part of me wanted to do exactly that.
It was only the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders that kept me from collapsing.
Humanity's Morning Star, the Hunter of Darkness.
If I showed signs of breaking, the ripples would not end with me alone.
Though, either way, it didn't change the fact that the Saintess’s heart was breaking.
The silence stretched on. The Saintess stared at me without a word, and only after a long while did I clumsily set the whiskey bottle on the floor and clear my throat.
"…You're here?"
"Why are you hiding it so naturally? Put it back where it belongs this instant!"
In the end, I had to shuffle over like a cow being led to the slaughter and put the whiskey back in the cupboard.
Who was it that said marriage is the grave of life?
I felt like I was just beginning to understand the meaning behind those words.
The Saintess’s nagging continued even after that. It was truly a cruel ordeal.
"Ian, I told you, didn't I? Your body hasn't fully recovered yet… Your insides are such a mess that you're practically a collection of rags barely stitched together! And yet you're drinking again?"
Under the Saintess’s fiery reprimand, my eyes drifted downward.
Not only did she take my alcohol, but she was also giving me an earful.
The golden advice of my life seniors—to delay marriage as long as possible—suddenly came to mind. With a visibly dejected face, I offered a timid rebuttal.
"I mean, I've fought just fine even when I've been drinking…"
"Ugh, you'll be the death of me!"
The Saintess thumped her chest in frustration.
The visual of that heavy, supple movement caught my eye. Seeing it, a sudden thought occurred to me.
Maybe marriage isn't all bad.
All those seniors who gave me such 'wise' advice suddenly seemed like fools. How could they feel that way when they had such a lovely wife?
However, unlike my fickle heart, the Saintess remained consistently exasperated.
"How are you going to live without me? You'll just be drinking every single day!"
"Then we can just live together forever."
"Sigh."
At my perfectly reasonable counter-argument, the Saintess could only let out a sigh.
If anything, she seemed to look a little bit happier. Though, that was just a baseless deduction based on my intuition.
The Saintess shook her head as if she had no choice.
"Honestly, you should know I'm only putting up with this because it's me… Anyone else would have divorced you by now."
With that, the Saintess pulled out the chair opposite me. My wife naturally took her seat.
Before I knew it, her light pink eyes were filled with concern.
Resting her chin on her hand, she asked me, "Why didn't you go back to your hometown?"
Perhaps because it was an unexpected question, I couldn't find an answer for a while, like someone caught off guard. After a moment, my mouth finally managed to find an excuse.
"…There's nothing for me to do there."
"Since when did you need a reason to go? It's the break."
She was right.
It had been months since the vampire attack.
In the meantime, the Academy had maintained an eerie sense of peace. Perhaps it was because even the Dark Cult found the crushing loss of one of the Seven Deadly Sins too painful to bear.
Or perhaps they were plotting something even more sinister.
Naturally, the season had already passed through autumn. It was the time when the air, which had been merely chilly, began to carry the biting cold of the north.
And so, with the flow of the seasons, it was only natural for the Academy to go on break.
Yet, I was still staying at the Academy.
It seemed the Saintess had read the change in my heart from this unusual behavior.
"Are you afraid?"
It was a cautious yet firm question.
I let out a long sigh and averted my gaze. I desperately wanted that whiskey I'd put back in the cupboard.
When the silence persisted, the Saintess pressed further.
"It's been months since you've been walking around with that gloomy face… I'm your wife. Can't a wife hear what's on her husband's mind? Why can't you answer—"
"Alcohol."
The sound was somewhere between a groan and a sigh.
Exhaling that pained tone, I cast my eyes down.
"I'll talk if you give me a drink."
Then, silence.
The Saintess stared at me for a long time without a word, as if we were in a staring contest.
The stillness didn't last long. My wife soon let out a deep sigh and stood up irritably.
Before long, the bottle was slammed down in front of me.
Watching the Saintess’s reaction, I carefully poured the liquor into a glass. Even the thin stream of whiskey seemed to reflect my shrunken heart.
But what could I do?
This wasn't a story I could tell without a drink.
Just as I was about to toss the full glass of whiskey down my throat—
In the blink of an eye, before my hand could even reach it, something white snatched the glass away. Then came the sound of swallowing.
Gulp, gulp.
My vision spun for a moment. It was almost an instinct. My retinas, fixed on the white trajectory, saw the Saintess drinking the liquor. And she was downing the strong spirit—well over 40 percent alcohol—in one go.
Before my reason could even kick in, a scream erupted from my mouth.
"Wait, what are you… Woman, are you crazy?!"
Of course, I wasn't screaming because I was upset about the wasted whiskey.
There was still plenty left in the bottle. The reason I bolted upright was because of the Saintess’s tolerance.
The Saintess couldn't drink.
She was the type of woman who would get tipsy after just a few sips of wine. And yet she was downing a spirit twice as strong?
Hard liquor carried a significance beyond simple arithmetic. Just because the alcohol content was double didn't mean you simply got drunk twice as fast.
Just as I was about to panic and snatch the glass back from her—
Thwack.
Her slender hand swatted mine away. I was so stunned I couldn't say a word, while the Saintess stuck out her tongue and made a face of pure disgust.
"Blegh, it tastes awful."
"That's why I said—!"
"Drink as much as you want. But every time you have a glass, I'm having one too."
Her tone was firmer than I expected.
To think she would take herself hostage.
I let out a hollow laugh and had no choice but to sit back down. The Saintess even kindly placed the glass in front of me and poured more.
She was truly a terrifying woman.
I suppose she was indeed someone who had navigated the razor-thin politics of the Holy Kingdom.
Realizing the greatness of my wife anew, I tilted the glass back. The burning sensation of the cheap whiskey as it scorched down my esophagus was no joke.
Neither was the nauseating smell of alcohol that followed.
Only after wiping my mouth with a "Kaaah" did my lips begin to move.
"…I still haven't found Celine."
"And?"
"How can I face my parents? My mother thinks of Celine as her own daughter… And what about Lady Haster? Baron Einstein and Lady Einstein?"
Unable to overcome the bitterness in my heart, my hand tilted the bottle of its own accord.
I was about to refill the glass when I met those light pink eyes watching me intently.
In the end, I let out a groan and only filled the glass halfway.
Immediately, a hand snatched the glass away.
The whiskey disappeared into the woman's mouth. You foolish woman, I thought, leaving my bitter lament behind.
Trickle.
The glass filled once more.
To bring up the box I had buried deep within my heart.
"And what about Reto?"
It was a short but heavy sentence.
Reto Einstein, my closest friend.
At the mention of his name, my eyes began to tremble. It didn't take long for me to empty the glass, unable to bear it.
The Saintess was silent for a while. She simply looked at me with eyes that had grown slightly hazy.
Soon, a question came back.