Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 132

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 132.

Upon returning to Room 4, Lee Yeon-woo retrieved a blood packet.

“Oh, you had something like that….”

Before Rawi could even finish his exclamation of relief, Lee Yeon-woo—having regenerated his lower jaw—bit into the blood packet. His newly sharpened fangs pierced through the thick pouch with ease.

“….”
“…Mm, ah….”

Rawi stroked his chin and murmured at the peculiar sight.

“It’s like watching an adult taking a tonic.”

At Rawi’s remark about tonics, Lee Yeon-woo—mid-swallow—faltered.

He’d thought it was quite grotesque. But objectively speaking, it wasn’t so different from a chronically exhausted office worker sucking on a red ginseng stick after overtime shifts.

‘It’s oddly humbling to think this is what my tonic has become.’

Whether or not Lee Yeon-woo was aware of his own feelings, the two continued their conversation.

“Do adults in the Outside take tonics like that too?”
“Of course, though the contents differ.”
“Are you feeling somewhat better?”

Seme approached Lee Yeon-woo.

“Seeing that you regenerated your face, it seems you had some energy left to spare, fortunately….”
“….”
“Ah, apparently not.”

Even after drinking for a while, Lee Yeon-woo remained silent. Blood still flowed from his neck, his legs, and beneath his clothes. It appeared he’d only hastily regenerated his lower jaw.

Considering how long I’d kept it hidden, perhaps I simply didn’t want to show such a grotesque sight.

“….”

Seme cautiously offered a suggestion as Lee Yeon-woo drank blood in silence.

“…You could use the blood packs we have here, couldn’t you? If you’d sit down, we could bring them to you. I think it would be better to rest for a while—standing must be putting strain on your body….”
“….”
“This much, at least, we can help with.”

Lee Yeon-woo regarded Seme quietly for a moment, then nodded. Still holding the blood pack in his mouth, he walked over to a chair beside the pristine white table and sat down.

Blood dripped slowly down the chair leg, the crimson trail starkly vivid against the white.

“….”
“…Should we take this one out?”
“Yeah, let’s take it.”
“Is it the refrigerator…? It’s quite far back.”

During my last visit, I’d only ventured into the living room, so I hadn’t realized there was more space beyond. The colors were so uniform and the shadows so absent that it was difficult to grasp the layout.

Rawi murmured as he gazed at the large blood storage refrigerator.

“It’s just like a hospital.”
“A hospital…?”
“Everything’s so white.”
“….”

Seme looked around at those words and nodded in agreement.

“It does look that way.”

It was a white, immaculate space where even a single drop of blood would stand out with striking clarity.

“All the reputable hospitals have interiors like this anyway….”
“Aren’t most hospitals white?”
“There are so many illegally operated hospitals in the Gap that….”
“It’s barely even considered illegal at this point.”
“Not many hospitals go to this extent with their interior design.”
“Every time I think about it, the Gap really is a dystopia.”
“Still, there are competent doctors around.”

Despite all their chatter on the way here, Lee Yeon-woo remained silent.

“….”
“…Ah, here it is.”

Lee Yeon-woo gave a slight nod and took the blood pack from Seme’s hand. Then, with a soft bite, he tore it open. His throat had healed somewhat—I could see his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the blood.

“…If he needs to resort to oral blood consumption, that really does mean things aren’t good….”
“Is there a separate criterion for that judgment?”
“A Blood Mage of Lee Yeon-woo’s caliber should be able to feed remotely.”
“How would remote blood consumption even work…?”
“It’s magic—you can’t think about it with the common sense of outsiders.”

As Seme spoke, he felt Lee Yeon-woo’s gaze and realized his mistake.

“My apologies—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“….”

Whether or not he minded the comment, Lee Yeon-woo gestured politely toward the remaining chair with his hand. It seemed to mean they should sit rather than continue standing.

‘…I suppose recovery will take some time.’

Seme seated Rawi first, then sat beside him.

“….”
“….”

In the strange silence that followed, Rawi spoke up.

“Does it taste good?”

At those words, Lee Yeon-woo stared fixedly at Rawi. I considered the matter.

‘It does have flavor, but….’

By Belmarés’s palate, most blood tasted pleasant enough. Yet separate from that, my stomach had turned, and now I was drinking more out of necessity to survive than for taste.

‘Though I’m hardly at the age to understand the mindset of an office worker pouring Americano down their throat at midday.’

It was closer to red ginseng extract, if anything. Since anything I said would sound strange regardless, I silently swallowed the rest of the blood. At my reaction, Rawi became deeply flustered.

“…Oh, I apologize….”
“….”
“I wondered if becoming a Blood Mage might alter one’s sense of taste as well, the way humans have evolved for convenience.”
“….”
“I see, or perhaps not….”

Rawi averted his gaze. Since it had always been Lee Yeon-woo who led the conversation, the absence of his voice made things feel oddly distant.

‘The impact of words really is considerable when you think about it.’

Lee Yeon-woo’s behavior hadn’t changed from usual. Perhaps because he was such a composed person—the loss of a single voice created such a palpable distance.

‘Without speaking, he doesn’t seem human at all.’

That was simply the impression I had.

‘His movements contain no excess….’

Rawi, who had been leaning over the table watching Lee Yeon-woo, shifted his gaze toward Seme.

“When will Lee Yeon-woo speak with us again?”
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Because I can’t very well ask Lee Yeon-woo directly.”
“That’s a fair point, which is why I’m irritated….”

Seme glanced at Lee Yeon-woo’s expression, and when he nodded, Seme continued.

“…It depends on accumulated shock and fatigue, but it shouldn’t take more than a day. Given your skill level—capable of restoring even a body too grievously wounded to move—recovery will come swiftly.”

It meant my ability to manipulate blood was refined and exceptional.

“As long as sufficient blood is supplied, there should be no problem in reconstructing a damaged body.”
“Well, let me think about that.”

Rawi sat up and asked.

“You know quite a lot about Blood Magic, Senior. It used to be relatively common magic in the past, but it’s still surprising.”
“I learned about it through personal connections….”
“You have a Blood Mage friend in this day and age?”
“Not exactly like that.”

Perceptions of Blood Mages had changed considerably over a long time.

The Foundation had committed far too many atrocities using Blood Magic over the years. Practically no one learns it anymore, and the Blood Mages who remain are either Monsters or equally deranged lunatics.

Of course, the “connection” Seme mentioned wasn’t like that.

“…A long time ago, there was someone who helped me….”
“Ah, a passerby?”
“…Yes, that person.”

Seme spoke while gauging Lee Yeon-woo’s reaction, as always.

“They were from the Jakyeongdan, which collapsed fighting the Foundation.”

In other words, a “straggler.”

* * *

Order of Azure.

“That’s where you were?”
“Formal speech.”
“You’re sensitive about formal speech for a foreigner.”
“I’m a Korea-based foreigner.”

He shrugged.

“The Order of Azure was a massive Knight Order with branches throughout the world. They were well-coordinated with each other, and since they operated with government sponsorship as well… they were quite formidable.”
“….”
“Of course, all the ones who survived now are nothing but ‘stragglers’ like me.”
“That’s….”

Back when I was learning swordsmanship from him, Seme had many questions.

“Why are you called that?”

The Hero I knew was strong. Though he seemed flawed in character, he was fundamentally decent and capable enough to help others.

But that word “straggler” spreading through the Gap was nothing but a slur, no matter how many times I heard it.

“You’re strong.”
“Use formal speech.”
“I don’t understand how a Knight Order that was supposedly so magnificent back then scattered like this, or why someone who survived it is called a ‘straggler’ as a slur.”
“Well, the Gap itself is that kind of society….”

How satisfying it must have been to watch those who pretended to be noble fall to the very bottom.

“Just for a reason like that?”
“You don’t need a big reason for someone to be insulted.”
“But….”
“There was a cause, of course.”

Surprisingly, he neither drank nor smoked. Perhaps because of that, his unremarkable voice always came through clearly even to my untrained ears.

“There was a traitor.”
“A traitor…?”
“It wasn’t something that happened in the branch I belonged to, but there was one truly insane bastard. He hid while pretending to be virtuous and righteous, and then he went and committed betrayal on a grand scale.”
“That’s… quite something.”
“There’s even talk that he was originally from the Foundation.”
“But does that justify the slur being attached?”
“Regardless, that’s where it all started.”

He said it “wasn’t such a grand beginning.”

“That’s just how it is with organizations that have long histories and massive scale—they accumulate countless problems and vices. There were issues festering from within, and that traitor simply exploited the cracks.”
“…Still, it doesn’t sound like the decisive reason….”
“Think of it like a game of Jenga that was already precarious to begin with. Someone pulled out one block, and the whole tower came crashing down. As for someone like me, stationed in a distant Branch… I honestly don’t know exactly where it all started.”

Simply put.

“We fell apart in the most pathetic way imaginable.”

How much better it would have been if everyone had possessed nobility matching their name.

“….”
“…This traitor you speak of—was he really capable enough to reduce you all to this state?”
“Capable? Yes, he was capable enough. With a single gesture, he toppled a tower that had been precariously stacked through years of effort.”
“Were there many people like that in the Foundation?”
“You’ve heard the name before, traveling with me.”

He asked it this way.

“The Major Arcana.”

Those chosen by the Tarot Cards of destiny.

“That bastard was one of the members.”
“What number?”
“Number 15, The Devil.”

The symbol of humanity’s uncontrolled desires.

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

* * *

“….”
“I heard he’s dead now, though….”

Seme spoke while absently toying with her hair.

“I don’t know. Nobody’s ever claimed to have seen the body.”
“The way you say it sounds like an urban legend.”
“A considerable number of Arcana members are the types who sound like urban legends. If they’re chosen by the Tarot Card of Fate, it means they’ve deviated significantly from human common sense.”
“That’s actually something I’m curious about.”

Rawi rested his chin in his hand.

“What exactly is this ‘Major Arcana’?”
“You… do you know what Tarot Cards are?”
“Yeah, the ones used for fortune telling.”
“It’s an artifact created even before The Clock that I mentioned before.”

Seme continued, drawing a circle with his finger in the air.

“Cards 0 through 6 represent ‘beginning and ignorance,’ 7 through 14 represent ‘will and socialization,’ and 15 through 21 represent ‘transformation and enlightenment’…”
“So that Devil card is the first stage of the final phase?”
“You could look at it that way.”
“You said they’re chosen—what’s the mechanism?”
“I don’t know the principle myself, but from what I understand, the person on Earth whose destiny most closely matches that card receives it.”

Rawi, whose eyes had been rolling, asked a question.

“What happens if the person holding the card dies?”
“Oh, that’s separate from dying. If someone with a destiny closer to the card appears before the Arcana member dies, it just transfers to them instead.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“I only picked up bits and pieces while doing mercenary work anyway…”

Seme wore an awkward expression.

“Anyway, since it represents that person’s ‘destiny,’ some members with certain numbers are known internationally as dangerous individuals. The Devil, who belongs to 15, is one such case.”

He continued with an “Oh.”

“I believe there’s an officially registered Arcana member in Korea.”
“Oh, there is?”
“Was it number 12…?”
“What’s their name?”
“No, I didn’t memorize that far.”
“Ugh…”

And then.

“….”

As I listened to their conversation while replenishing my blood supply, a thought crossed my mind.

“…?”

…The Devil?

That card—don’t I already have it?

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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