Chapter 202: The Truman Show-5
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 202: The Truman Show-5
When the time came, Nicola, the village representative, came to his room.
Guided by the affable man, In-ho headed toward the dining hall.
As the doors opened, the sight of people huddled around a long dining table met his eyes. In-ho, who had been expecting a simple dinner, was a bit taken aback by the larger-than-expected turnout.
"May the Light be with you."
Five or six men offered him a religious greeting.
"What is all this...?"
In-ho looked at the village representative, wondering what was going on, but Nicola merely gave a boisterous laugh and guided him to the seat of honor.
Sitting down reflexively, In-ho scanned the faces of those gathered around the table. Their expressions were smooth and unburdened, their attire impeccable. It reminded In-ho of the times he had dined with nobles at the Church Headquarters.
"Hello," In-ho said, greeting them while hiding his bewilderment behind a smile.
He wondered if there were really this many nobles living in a village like this.
"They have traveled from afar just to see you, Saint," Nicola said as he sat beside him, as if answering his unspoken question.
"So they aren't from Madini Village," In-ho remarked, resting his hand on a cup atop the table.
"Indeed. At the news of your arrival, they all..."
As Nicola spoke with a genial smile, In-ho responded by curling the corners of his mouth upward.
"Then you've all come all this way specifically to see me."
When In-ho spoke as if to confirm, a stout man let out a hearty laugh.
"To see the Saint, a journey like this is nothing!"
"Hahahaha!"
Laughter erupted from the men seated around the table.
"The Saint must be hungry, so let us bring out the food first."
At Nicola’s signal, maids began bringing out dishes one by one. Steaming, glistening food was placed before the guests.
"……."
The people who had come to see In-ho began to pick up their forks and knives. Then, they looked at In-ho’s face.
In-ho met their eyes for a long moment before clasping his hands and closing his eyes. His actions left them looking bewildered.
"I offer a prayer of thanks for this well-prepared meal."
As In-ho began to pray, the men hurriedly set down the utensils they were holding.
Once the prayer ended, dinner began. The meal, which started in a calm atmosphere, gradually grew more spirited as the maids brought out wine.
Actually, "spirited" was an understatement; "rowdy" would be more accurate. Before long, the sound of them gulping down drinks and boisterously chatting made In-ho frown slightly.
"Saint! You should have a drink as well!"
One man, his face already flushed bright red, shouted toward In-ho.
Voices around him chimed in with half-hearted protests like, "Hey now, what are you doing?" but they too seemed to want In-ho to join in.
With a flick of a finger, one of the men signaled a maid, who then poured wine into In-ho’s glass.
In-ho stared at the alcohol, something he hadn't touched recently. His own face was reflected on the surface of the purple liquid.
He took a deep breath in and let it out. The boredom and irritation that had clouded his face vanished, replaced once more by a gentle smile.
"Since it's a special occasion, I suppose I must. Come, everyone, fill your glasses."
Thinking of the poor who had reached for hard bread and soup, In-ho raised his glass.
Soft bread and roasted meat. Sour wine that enhanced their flavors to the fullest. It was a meal more than worthy of hosting a Saint.
And yet, why did his heart feel so heavy?
Was the wine bitter, or was it his soul...?
In-ho couldn't find a clear answer, even when he asked himself. He soothed his inner turmoil by pouring another glass of wine.
*
What Maria encountered when she arrived with news from Albainin was the sight of a heavily intoxicated Saint.
Though he was drunk, his saintly character seemed to remain; In-ho sat quietly in his chair, nodding off like a dozing chicken.
The others who had participated in the meal were also quite drunk, laughing and drinking amongst themselves while smoking tobacco. Maria’s face contorted in a deep scowl at the sight of the dining hall filled with a thick, grey haze of smoke.
"It's Maria..." the Saint murmured, as if talking in his sleep.
Seeing the Saint’s condition, Maria marched into the dining hall.
Nicola, who was at least quick-witted enough to notice her, started to stand up hesitantly to say something, but he shut his mouth and sat back down at her chilling glare.
"To display such disgraceful behavior at a meal hosted for the Saint."
As Maria spoke in disbelief, the others, who had been floundering in their drunkenness, gradually began to fix their posture. Maria’s killing intent was slowly driving away their intoxication.
"Ah... it wasn't like that..."
Nicola tried to speak again, but Maria silenced him with a sharp "Tsk."
"Of course, since the Saint himself permitted this, I, as his attendant, cannot hold you accountable."
Maria moved to support the Saint. In-ho, still unable to escape the fog of alcohol, had legs as limp as wet laundry.
"The Saint appears tired, so we shall retire. Please mind your conduct so that you may stand before the Saint tomorrow with due reverence."
With a warning that was far from a suggestion, Maria left the dining hall.
Slam!
The door closed with a heavy thud, and only then did the men, who had been unable to breathe under the pressure radiating from the Inquisitor, gasp for air.
*
Feeling the full weight of the Saint leaning against her, unable to balance himself, Maria led him to his room.
"Ugh... uuh..."
Still lost in his cups, the Saint mumbled unintelligible words and collapsed onto the bed the moment he saw it.
"Saint. You must change your clothes..."
Since this was the first time she had seen the Saint so disheveled, Maria didn't know what to do and simply fidgeted with her hands.
"Just... gonna sleep."
The Saint finally spoke words she could understand.
"Those clothes are uncomfortable. You must change into something more relaxed."
Maria attempted to reason with the senseless Saint. Moreover, her heart wouldn't be at peace letting him sleep in clothes stained with sauce and wine from the meal.
"It's a bother."
At the Saint’s words, Maria glanced around the room where only she and the Saint remained.
"Um... Saint. Then, if I were to change them for you..."
Maria trailed off. The Saint had always insisted on dressing himself. There was no way he would give her permission now—
"Fine. Maria, you change me."
In-ho spoke nonchalantly with a slurred tongue.
"Are... are you truly alright with that?"
Maria asked again, her eyes wide with surprise, but the Saint had already fallen into a deep sleep, sprawled face-down on the bed.
The Saint’s attendant swallowed hard, trying to process the situation.
"The Saint is just drunk right now and saying whatever comes to mind. Is it really okay for me to look at the Saint’s body? But he gave me permission, didn't he?"
Maria soliloquized alone in the middle of the room.
"What should I do? What should I do? I should really change him, right?"
Fidgeting with her fingers, Maria looked back and forth between the Saint and the door. Whether to leave like this or change the Saint’s clothes—it was entirely her choice.
"Mmm..."
As she agonized, the Saint’s voice reached her ears. Having rolled onto his back, he was repeatedly tugging at his collar with his fingers as if it were uncomfortable.
That action caused a few buttons to pop open, revealing his pale skin and collarbone.
Gulp. Maria swallowed instinctively.
"R-right? It's uncomfortable, isn't it?"
Maria laughed awkwardly. She began to creep toward the Saint. Her heart pounded so hard it hurt at the sight of the Saint lying defenseless on the bed.
"The... the Saint permitted this."
Shifting the blame to him, Maria slowly placed her hands on his shirt. Then, she began to undo the buttons one by one.
Click. Click. Click.
As the buttons were undone, the Saint’s white, firm upper body was revealed. Maria bit her lower lip unconsciously as she continued her task.
"Huu... haa..."
Finally, the shirt was completely removed, and Maria’s gaze drifted downward.
All that remained were his trousers.
Maria slowly and very carefully removed the Saint’s pants. Immediately, the scent of a man wafted toward her.
"Oh, God."
Maria’s gasp of admiration followed.
