A Suspiciously Familiar Scent - 3
This morning was unusually lively.
There was me and Elodie. Henri and Valerie.
Even a guest seated right in the middle like a judge between plaintiff and defendant.
“Honestly, you could at least try to time your arrival better!”
“The early-morning flight was cheaper. Saving money’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Well… nothing wrong with that, I suppose.”
Valerie let out a short sigh and paused, clearly cooling her temper so she wouldn’t say something she’d regret.
“There’s nothing wrong with it, but it’s not like you’re short on money. If anything, you’ve got plenty. Where does all that money even go?”
“The money? It’s still sitting there.”
“Then spend some of it. You’re a sommelier, yet you only ever buy the cheap wine.”
“Expensive wines are for tasting. Or I just snag whatever’s left when a bottle’s been opened for Bouchoné, right?”
“Is that really okay?”
Another heavy sigh escaped Valerie’s lips—the kind that sounded like she was carrying every worry in the world.
I kept perfectly still, ears open, listening to the two of them. Elodie and Henri were doing exactly the same.
“There haven’t been any real complaints, so maybe it is the right way to go,” Marie said with a smile. Valerie closed her mouth as if she had nothing left to say. Her expression was pure surrender.
“…As long as you’re happy. Anyway, welcome. You must be exhausted from the trip—want to get some sleep first?”
“Thanks. But I’ll hold out. If I sleep now, my whole schedule will get wrecked.”
If she slept now, there was no guarantee when she’d wake up. Midday or afternoon would be fine; if she opened her eyes in the dead of night, it could turn into a full-blown disaster. Of course, if there was work to do, even a short nap would be better. But when there wasn’t, it was smarter to just endure a little fatigue. She’d probably managed a few dozes on the long journey anyway, uncomfortable as they were.
“But why is the Saint here of all places? Did you receive a dispatch request or something?”
Once that conversation wound down, Marie’s gaze turned to Elodie. It was an entirely natural question.
“I’ve decided to settle in Korea for a while,” Elodie answered, a faint curve touching her lips. She had chosen the word “a while” instead of “for life,” as if the latter would have been too much of a shock.
Marie’s eyes went wide.
“What? Here?”
“Is that strange?”
“It is a little strange, yes. Was there some particularly charming reason?”
“A charming reason… there was.”
Elodie looped her arm tightly through mine and clung close, pressing against me hard enough that the soft give of her chest was unmistakable.
“My word.”
Marie’s mouth fell slightly open in open astonishment.
“I know it’s terribly personal and rude of me to ask, but… how on earth did this happen?”
“I confessed first. We haven’t held a ceremony, but I already think of us as no different from a married couple.”
We were, in fact, exactly that—but neither of us felt the need to say it out loud.
“Was it love at first sight… something like that?”
“Something like that. I simply knew he was the one meant for my life. I still do.”
Well, we had been husband and wife before the reincarnation, so it wasn’t wrong. Calling it an unbreakable bond would hardly be an exaggeration. Married in the past life. Married in this one. Even in a world overflowing with mysterious powers, that was a rare kind of miracle.
“You’re an incredibly lucky man.”
Marie’s eyes settled on me. The words could have sounded cutting, but they were simply true, so I had no reply. Her voice and expression held no mockery at all.
“I am. Meeting someone so famous is already a miracle… living together like this feels almost too good for me.”
“Was there some special secret?”
“It’ll sound ridiculous, but… there was nothing. I was just as stunned as anyone.”
Joan of Arc, whom I’d thought long dead, had reincarnated. A divine oracle had led that reincarnated Joan straight to me. From my perspective, “stunned” was the only word that fit.
Marie nodded in understanding.
“You’ve received countless marriage proposals and never so much as blinked. I can see how that would leave someone reeling.”
“Hearing you put it that way is a little embarrassing,” Elodie murmured, cheeks coloring as she gently cut in. Her eyes and voice remained soft, yet a subtle pressure underlay them.
She’s getting more and more uncomfortable.
I could read her thoughts well enough after all the time we’d spent together—and she could read mine just as clearly. It was time to wrap this up.
“Shall we clear out, then? Our guest looks tired, and the two of you probably have things to talk about between yourselves.”
The moment I laid the groundwork, Henri and Valerie nodded as if they’d been waiting for the cue. Lingering any longer had clearly grown awkward for them.
“Yes, let’s do that. Marie, come with me. If you’re not going to sleep, stay on the first floor.”
“The shop? Got it.”
“What about you, Henri?”
“I’ll head downstairs as well. Saint, if anything comes up, please don’t hesitate to contact me.”
Even as they prepared to leave, Henri displayed the same unwavering loyalty toward the Saint as always. The fact that it hadn’t changed even after living with his wife was almost admirable.
“Thank you.”
Elodie and I saw our guests off with proper courtesy. It was half past ten in the morning. Listening to all their talk had made the time slip by unnoticed. Lunch would probably be a separate affair.
After we finished tidying up and settled on the living-room sofa, Elodie quietly slid closer and spoke.
“She’s quite famous, yet so unpretentious. Meeting her for the first time was a real surprise.”
“Famous?”
“Yes. She has an extraordinarily refined palate. Her way of describing wine and pairing it for a perfect mariage is outstanding.”
“Sounds impressive.”
I knew what a sommelier was, but I’d never paid enough attention to realize just how renowned she was.
“She’s been on French news and in the papers as well.”
“Really? And someone like that can eat gukbap without batting an eye… is that right?”
“Why? Gukbap is delicious.”
“It is, but it’s an acquired taste. Someone with a palate that sharp might have picked up a strong gamey note.”
Had she only said it was good out of politeness? The thought flickered through my mind.
“No. Her palate is excellent, but she’s not the picky type, so don’t worry. I’ve never seen it myself, but that’s what everyone says.”
Elodie rested her head against my shoulder and gave a soft laugh. Hearing that put me a little more at ease.
Well put together.
Marie looked around her friend Valerie’s shop before settling into a suitable seat. The temperature was pleasantly cool. The selection of wines and the overall atmosphere all spoke of a capable professional.
“You’ve done a nice job with the place. Feels even bigger than your old shop.”
“It is a bit larger. Thanks to Ji-hyuk and the Saint being so considerate, the rent’s cheap too.”
They had originally planned not to take any money at all; after a thoroughly strange negotiation in which money was forced into their hands, the low rent had stuck—and even that excluded the cost of the living quarters.
Marie asked, “About the Saint’s lover—do you know what he does for a living?”
“He’s a cleaner.”
“A cleaner? How does someone like that even meet the Saint? Did they just bump into each other at the Association by chance?”
The Saint and a cleaner. The combination was so distant it startled Marie. It wasn’t contempt for cleaners—simply that the two worlds had no natural point of contact.
Henri, seated across from them, knew the answer but kept his mouth shut. He saw no particular need to volunteer it.
“I don’t know. Henri, do you?”
“They first met at the Galdo Coast Guard post.”
When his wife asked, however, he answered readily enough. It wasn’t classified information that required silence.
Valerie asked, “Galdo? An island in Korea?”
“A remote island in the south. He was working at the surveillance base there when they met, and then she came all the way here.”
Henri’s usual stiff formality softened into something ordinary and gentle when he spoke to Valerie.
“That was around the time the Saint came to Korea… so not even a few months, right?”
“If you count from the moment they actually met, it hadn’t even been a few days.”
“Good heavens!”
Falling head over heels for someone she’d known only a handful of days—and then gifting him an entire building on top of it? Anyone could see that was far from ordinary. Valerie’s eyes widened in open shock. Marie reacted the same way outwardly, yet inside she remained perfectly calm, the old habit of long years.
“How did that even happen? Did Ji-hyuk seduce her somehow? No—even if he tried, the Saint isn’t the type to fall for it.”
“Could it be because he’s an Awakened…?”
Marie offered a reasonably plausible theory, even though she herself knew it was all but impossible.
“If that were the case, the base commander or someone—or the Saint herself, or even I—would have noticed. More importantly, anything strong enough to pierce the Saint’s resistance would have been detected long ago.”
Henri’s voice was low but absolute. He knew exactly how vast Elodie’s power was, and how absolute the resistance born from that power could be.
“True. Brainwashing the Saint with an ability? That doesn’t even make sense.”
Valerie nodded, finding the point sound. Behind the title of Saint lay not only her deeds but the sheer weight of her power—something no one could overlook. Marie knew that just as well.
“You’re right. He seemed like an ordinary man to me as well. Which only makes it more puzzling.”
“Exactly. It means she genuinely fell at first sight, pure and simple.”
“Was there something special about him?”
“There must have been, for her to show this kind of devotion. Ordinary people could never guess the reason.”
A reason, was it.
While Valerie groaned and puzzled over it, Marie also fell quiet, sinking into thought. If a customer had walked in she would have reacted, but at this early hour almost no one came looking for wine. That left her free to leisurely sort through everything she had seen and heard in such a short time.
An ordinary man. He really was ordinary. His looks were even a step below the Henri she had brought along. Yet the atmosphere… that light yet strangely deep, unique air carried a dense individuality. It reminded her of someone who, though born a noble, had possessed values and senses utterly different from everyone else—differences that had helped him survive a storm of an era.
Still, that man had been far more handsome.
A face and voice so beautiful anyone could see the noble breeding. Even as he grew paler by the day, he had only drawn more women’s eyes. Comparison was impossible. And yet she could not deny the resemblance. The atmosphere, yes—but also the speech. That familiar French accent was so thick with nostalgia it almost hurt.
An East Asian man. A cleaner who had worked at a remote base. Could a little academy training produce an accent like that? It was nearly impossible.
Where on earth…?
The tiny seed of doubt swelled in an instant. The French he spoke carried an antique elegance that even most natives would never dare attempt. A modern Frenchman might have simply thought, “He speaks well,” and moved on. But she alone knew exactly what Seo Ji-hyuk’s French was. She had seen and learned the French of history itself—every era of it.
She who should originally have vanished in a spray of blood before the revolutionary guillotine. The one who had been forced to carry a crime far greater than her sins—an injustice that should have made her the most wronged of the condemned.
"I'm sorry, Monsieur. I didn't mean to do that on purpose."
Princess of the Habsburg Empire and Queen of the Kingdom of France—Marie Antoinette.
Even now, that elegant woman’s eye for detail had pierced straight through the strangeness surrounding Seo Ji-hyuk. She had simply failed, as yet, to connect that strangeness with reincarnation.
Bzzz.
While Marie groaned under the weight of her deep pondering, the phone in her pocket vibrated.