Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 58

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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 58.

“….”
“…hah….”

I pressed the Elevator button, a dry laugh escaping my lips.

“Please, go first.”
“….”
“Then I’ll excuse myself.”

I hoisted myself up and over the Wet Person, who was crumpled into the narrow Elevator space. Using us both as stepping stones, Coco scampered up and settled onto my shoulder.

A thick, pungent smell of brine emanated from them.

“I express my deepest gratitude for your dedication, friend.”

[Spirit Yeast]
[A mutant fermentation bacterium that thrives in aqueous environments. During fermentation, it can memorize and reproduce patterns of memory, emotion, and sensation. Processed into medicine, poison, and disguise materials.]
[Quantity: 99]

Successful repetitive labor.

“….”
“Yes.”
“….”
“Yes, I’ve received the Pavlova order. I’ll prepare it as soon as I refine the yeast.”
“….”
“Of course. It won’t take long.”

* * *

As I stepped out the door, I spoke.

“You seem quite exhausted.”

Lee Yeon-woo departed the Aqua Park with unhurried grace, having laden The Wet Person with an armful of desserts—pavlovas crowned with berries, dense brownies, glazed donuts, and delicate macarons. They would be dining there, it seemed.

In the Elevator, Lee Yeon-woo gently stroked Coco.

“I had been considering ways to arrange accommodations on Basement Level 7 should my friend desire it, but given this reaction, it appears we won’t be visiting together for some time.”
“Yes.”
“Still, the location itself seemed to appeal to them. Given the Water Ghost’s nature, remaining at the Hunting Ground rather than the Aqua Park is safer in multiple respects. I should broach the subject again soon.”
“Yes?”
“Soon.”

For now, merely glimpsing traces of the Drowned Corpse was enough to turn their stomach.

Perhaps they found no interest in hunting of this sort. Indeed, for an open-version Monster Guest, repetitive labor masquerading as such hunts would hardly be enjoyable.

Lee Yeon-woo entered the Kitchen directly.

“Well then,”

I murmured while pulling on fresh cooking gloves.

“I have work of my own to finish.”

Now I needed to craft the “golden egg” here—something to seize the Tasteless Guest’s attention in an instant. I retrieved a test tube from my inventory.

A pearlescent, viscous liquid sloshed within it.

“I did prepare multiple versions, but…”
“Hello?”
“This alone might lack sufficient flavor.”
“Zing.”

I arranged the test tubes in a row. When they were Game icons, the differences had been negligible, but examining them in physical form revealed subtle variations in luminescence and hue. It felt like returning to my days as a researcher.

“Every time I see Game items like this directly, I feel oddly exhilarated.”
“Happy!”
“Something like that.”

Lee Yeon-woo continued speaking with measured calm.

“Since these materials are originally used as medicinal ingredients, what effects they might produce when incorporated into cooking remains unknown. There are no official recipes utilizing them in the first place.”
“Yes.”
“I must craft this entirely by my own hand from start to finish. I can rely on the System’s adjustments to some degree, but I should also account for the possibility of producing rougher results than usual.”
“No?”
“Isn’t your faith in the Game System a bit too unwavering, Coco?”
“No!”
“I suppose so.”

The purpose of this project was to utilize the refined soul yeast to temporarily recreate the taste from the past that the Tasteless Guest remembered.

“While fully restoring taste would be difficult, by leveraging the properties of soul yeast, I should be able to make them believe they’re experiencing that flavor from back then.”

No formula existed in the Hotel to restore taste, and the subject was a failure of the Red Heart Experiment. The scars ran too deep to recover sensation with a single drug.

“Considering my own safety, it’s something I shouldn’t do for the time being.”
“Yes?”
“The key is preventing the goose’s belly from being cut open. If a method to obtain the golden egg by cutting the belly emerges, it would become troublesome for both of us. I have no desire to do good deeds solely for the Tasteless Guest.”
“I see.”
“Of course, compounding such a medicine remains little more than a distant dream at present.”

Still studying, yet the Red Heart Experiment was such a peculiar field. Here I was, unable to even restore my own body, yet entertaining thoughts of recovering another’s senses. What a contradictory delusion this was.

“….”

But humans advance only through delusion. I fitted on the white mask.

“I should decide on a foundational dish for comparison. What would you suggest?”
“Venison.”
“I was thinking of bone broth.”
“Yes.”
“Very well. Let’s prepare both.”
“Yes!”

Solid dishes and liquid dishes would differ in the yeast’s reactivity. Since results naturally vary depending on ingredients, preparing both simultaneously was a sound decision.

This was strictly a research process, not cooking.

“For humans, sensation is a profoundly important element.”

As I received ingredients from the Kitchen Staff, I continued speaking.

“In particular, vision accounts for approximately 70 to 80 percent of the information humans receive.”
“Huh?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s absolute, but if I’m to answer your question… I’d say the order would be sight, hearing, touch, smell, and taste.”
“Hello?”
“No, as I mentioned, this is merely my personal opinion. However, I believe the general hierarchy of importance follows this ranking.”

As I trimmed the raw meat, I added further.

“That doesn’t mean there are senses that aren’t precious. The pleasure derived from taste is considerable as well. Even I have been finding it quite bothersome lately that all my recent meals taste of blood.”
“….”
“Moreover, if one were to completely lose their sense of taste, that would certainly become a source of stress.”

At least the taste of blood is better than nothing.

“Given such circumstances, it’s understandable why the Tasteless Guest would become obsessed with blood. Whether he, like me, finds others’ blood to be a delicacy, or whether he can only faintly taste anything from blood alone, I cannot say…”
“I cannot be well.”
“It’s certainly a matter that would cause a sense of deprivation from a human perspective. It seems he was once a gourmet, after all.”

After saying this, I added a moment later.

“There is one aspect that concerns me.”
“Yes?”
“The fact that he still maintains the form of dining suggests he retains some lingering attachment, but if that very deprivation has become so prolonged that he’s grown numb to it… then such persuasion might actually feel like provocation to him.”
“I dislike it.”
“A pity. I feel the same.”

No matter how large or thick a scar becomes, once it has fully healed, one no longer feels pain from it. If he has simply grown accustomed to that loss, treating it like thick callused flesh, then it would be difficult to induce his consideration through culinary means.

“I can only hope to pry open that very foundation.”
“Yes.”
“This is… quite the list of concerns.”

I spread refined yeast evenly across the surface of the raw meat.

“….”
“….”

After a brief silence, Lee Yeon-woo pointed to the raw meat and looked at Coco.

“Isn’t it shining a bit too much?”
“Yes.”
“Visually, it’s not unpleasant.”

Personally, it looked poor, but this wasn’t a matter to be judged by the sensibilities of a 21st-century Korean commoner. My counterpart was from the upper echelons of the 18th-century Holy Roman Empire.

‘For those who savored tables adorned as elaborately as theatrical sets, meat gleaming like pearls would surely fall within acceptable bounds. Weren’t these the people of an era that served taxidermied peacocks as if they were alive?’
“Yes?”

In any case, I decided to think of it that way.

“Given that the name itself is ‘Tasteless Guest,’ there’s a strong possibility that the sense of smell remains intact. Perhaps that’s why they insisted on lavish banquets despite being unable to taste. But smell is….”

There were many variables to account for.

“I don’t think it will take terribly long, but I’d prefer to establish the recipe as quickly as possible. I do rather enjoy this sort of research process, after all.”
“Hello.”
“That’s right.”

Lee Yeon-woo rolled his eyes dryly and fixed his gaze on the kitchen door. Through the gap, a shadow was peeking in.

“…It seems my patience is running thin.”

It was time to present the golden egg I had crafted.

* * *

“….”

I had known for a long time.

That on the day the ritual failed, my flesh and self had hardened into something grotesque.

The price of hubris for daring to usurp the divine was merciless. I yearned for an untouchable sanctity, forever trapped in a wretched limbo that belonged nowhere.

“Ah….”

Blood.
Blood.
I craved blood.

Consumed by thirst for it alone, I drifted through countless ages.

By the time I clawed back even a shred of reason, I had already shed whatever nobility once defined me. Countless foul obsessions and the souls of others had congealed within me, inseparable and grotesque.

And so, inevitably, a question lingered on my tongue.

“May I consume it?”

Reason is the final bastion separating human from beast. It was the power I wielded as a monster, and the sole restraint I maintained as a person.

The metallic taste of blood alone chases the phantom of flavor across my palate. Yet no amount of fresh vitality could fill the void in my soul. Before despair could even take root, thirst seizes dominion over body and mind.

One day, while I mimicked the surface and lived concealed among humans….

“….”

I beheld one of my own kind.

“May I consume it?”
“No.”

A Blood Mage with refined features.

‘How young.’

Could such a young Servant still exist?

When I first began circling him, it was merely the instinct of a blood mage drawn to quality vitality. Like all of us, I sought to drink deep of superior blood, to replace the void with ‘self,’ to sate this gnawing hunger with that metallic desire.

‘He is vomiting blood.’
‘His state is weakened.’
‘At this rate, perhaps once….’

A pitiful prey, unable even to preserve his own form, leaving traces of himself in his wake.

In this debased age where beasts stripped of reason and dignity wandered the nine heavens reeking of blood, he alone conjured the illusion of having stepped forth from a golden epoch long past.

‘It would surpass any delicacy my fragments have ever crafted.’
‘The blood of such an exquisitely perfected creation must surely be of the highest caliber.’

For one in such a weakened state, the quality of the blood was disturbingly magnificent—a temptation he coveted. Though this vast sanctum seemed unlikely to permit it, should he possess it, it would be sublime; should he tire of it, it would become a feast.

‘If only I could taste even a single drop.’

His scheming was nothing more than seeking an opening to fill his own belly with the precious arterial blood he had crafted.

Yet the moment he encountered that severed hand—the one that had seeped blood through the cracks of wall and floor—all calculations crumbled. He had thought it merely blood with an unusually fragrant aroma, but never did he suspect that flesh itself was nothing but a mass of crimson essence.

“May I consume it?”

Ah, yes. It was you.

“…May I….”

The shattered shutter. When I licked the traces of arterial blood clinging thickly within those metal crevices, it was unmistakably you. Truly you. The surge coursing through my cerebral fluid brought both reverence and disbelief.

“….”

This was no mere blood of an exceptional Blood Mage. It was the primordial sanctum itself—a perfection that should never have existed.

Seized by madness, I pursued in your wake. I consumed every remnant you left behind. Licking the floors, scraping the walls, greedily devouring the sanctity you had scattered in your passage.

Ah,

“Belmarés.”

A form I had sought to achieve yet dared not even glimpse. A sanctum I had yearned to become yet could not fathom its very source. The perfection of blood lay beneath the same roof.

“Belmarés. Belmarés. Belmarés.”

The moment I grasped this truth, instinct trembled and whispered within me.

‘If only I could tear away a fragment and devour it.’

If I could transfuse that noble essence into my base veins, perhaps even this eternal hunger would finally find its end. It would be a sacred desecration, a profane union. To conclude this endless hunger and liberate myself into the Abyss below. That primordial usurper, that being daring to stand above me—the mere fantasy of subduing it beneath my feet, of tearing into that pale throat, that pulsing conduit of life. Hot divine pus bursting between my teeth, that acrid metallic liquid. The very thought sends obscene, viscous ecstasy coursing through my spinal fluid, flooding my entire being. If I could strangle that blood-reeking god, crush it, lick it clean, dismantle it piece by piece and exile it into the abyss of my stomach. If I could kill it, consume it, swallow it whole….

“Even if I consumed it….”
“No.”
“….”
“That is not permitted.”
“Ah.”

Yet in that same moment, I understood.

[―■■■ ■■]
“I see.”

He possessed a rank far exceeding my own.

‘Such vivid, arrogant blood.’

Circling what I believed to be a dying beast, I instead encountered the voice of a god—battered and broken, yet still bearing down upon me with crushing weight.

‘Even weakened, this is what he commands.’

Restraint. A noble pretense, the last honor a creature of my kind must maintain—yet beneath it lay only a gossamer thread of patience born from terror, the fear that reaching too eagerly might result in being torn asunder.

The calculation that if I surrendered to this hunger, blinded by momentary temptation, I would collapse into a base corpse before ever tasting this colossal fortune that had rolled into my grasp—this alone kept me bound.

“….”

Even a sinner parched with thirst knows to withdraw before holy water.

“Ah….”

Yet for one born of arrogance, patience was an unfamiliar discipline.

The chalice of divinity lay before my eyes. Knowing that the moment I reached for it, I would face annihilation, countless ravenous souls screamed from within and without, their voices rising in chorus.

‘Consume it.’
‘You could become whole.’
‘Please, just one taste.’

I had lost my balance from that fleeting delicacy—the taste of the filthy wall against my tongue. I had lived in thirst for far too long. I had walked an endless road, tormented by agony and hunger.

But you know this, don’t you? You all surely know that this cannot be. That it must not be.

‘Dare not lay a hand upon him.’
‘He is noble and exalted.’
‘You chase an even deeper abyss.’

The voices within me tore at one another, shrieking. But… ah, but still. Still, I. No—we, these countless fragments of yearning souls.

“….”

I.

I am no honor. Not even human. Could I not tear away just one more bite? Just one? Even a god must have weaknesses within these narrow Stone Walls, mustn’t he?

In that moment, I was about to cast aside the thin shards of honor and bare my hideous fangs.

“Guest.”
“….”
“Will you be visiting the Dining Area?”

I had been invited to his table.

* * *

[Memory of the Hunting Ground: A Nobleman’s Table (Sample Course)]

Appetizer
Venison Liver Pâté and Rustic Bread

Venison liver and spices ground fine, then slowly cooked with herb butter to completion. The exterior yields softly while the interior holds a deep and rich flavor, served warm atop freshly baked bread.

Soup
Wild Herb Game Consommé.

A clear broth made from bones of beasts taken at the Hunting Ground, simmered and strained over long hours, then infused with wild thyme and rosemary. Each sip warms the body—a prelude to a nobleman’s evening ritual.

Main Course
Mouflon Steak with Truffle and Red Wine Sauce

A main course of mouflon tenderloin gently cooked in red wine and truffle sauce. The finely embedded truffles meld with the meat juices, capturing both the glory of the hunt and the soft refinement of perfect maturity.

Dessert
Candied Fruit

Candied fruit that adorns the end of the hunt and the conclusion of the feast. Brimming with fruit juice beneath a translucent sugar glaze that shimmers with light, the sweetness and subtle acidity linger long on the palate.

[Registering new recipe to the compendium.]
[Yes/No]

[Yes]

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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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