Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 70

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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 70.

At Ho-won, the Tasteless Guest was considered relatively mild-mannered. As long as one refused properly, there was hardly any trouble to be had. Or so I had thought before.

‘I’ve already made peace with the inevitability.’

Naturally, there existed domains that could not be resolved by mere refusal. Specifically: the time that followed after accepting an ‘invitation.’

‘How exhausting.’
“Taste it.”

The Incomplete Blood Mage’s voice was low and smooth.

Befitting the master of the banquet, his tone was composed and gentle, yet beneath it lay an irrefusable coercion. A peculiar pressure tightened across my entire body.

The compulsion to begin eating consumed my instincts.

“….”

Yet Lee Yeon-woo remained composed.

‘What can I do about this.’

It was somewhat vexing.

‘I have no appetite whatsoever.’

Perhaps my emotions were already being consumed. To act so swayed by mood was an unfamiliar experience I hadn’t encountered since my teenage years.

‘Indeed, I must be careful not to become too foolish. Unlike the penalty of water attribution, this touches the inner self.’

Lee Yeon-woo lowered his gaze toward the Dining Table.

“It feels as though I’ve been invited to a master’s theatrical performance.”
“Is that so?”
“I’ve been deeply moved.”

Flickering flames atop silver candlesticks danced across the Dining Table. The host seated at the table’s end still smiled with eyes narrowed to slits. Within those delicately curved pupils, a clear emotion was legible.

Greed and hunger, mingled with subtle anticipation.

“Quite….”

And fear.

“Impressive and….”

Anxiety that seized the fingertips.

“Beautiful.”

Lee Yeon-woo met the other’s gaze with eyes devoid of emotion.

Upon the Dining Table lay a goblet brimming with deep red wine, alongside ornate decorative flourishes of meat and fruit—all of it merely theatrical props for the ‘true feast’ to come.

‘If I must consume something, liquid would be preferable when appetite abandons me like this.’

Lee Yeon-woo lifted the goblet and drew the liquid within to his lips.

“Hmm.”

As the crimson depths rippled, something within me was severed with exquisite precision.

‘This much I understand clearly.’

These fragments torn away would descend into the stomach of that Tasteless Guest.

Warmth and sweetness flowed down my throat. My tongue received pleasant stimulation, yet my core did not. I could not define precisely what was separating from me.

‘Hope, perhaps. Or trust….’

Likely something of that gentle, temperate nature.

“…That’s quite good.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”

As a hollow chill spread through my chest, delight flickered across the host’s eyes. A primal euphoria born of culinary appreciation. From his clasped hands, held as if in prayer, I could vividly sense what he was savoring.

“Is this not a most exquisite dining table?”

It seemed my taste suited him rather well.

‘I had thought my emotions, separate from blood, might not align with his preferences—which would have been troublesome in its own way. So perhaps I should consider this fortunate.’

Indeed, Ho-won’s Tasteless Guest harbored no particular preferences. He simply savored the act itself—the consumption of human emotion.

“Is this an enjoyable meal?”
“It is an enjoyable meal.”
“You are noble.”
“Ah.”
“A noble one.”

His voice, whispering as though in reverence of Lee Yeon-woo, carried an undercurrent of triumph. Never had deception been so transparent. The base thrill stemmed from a single fact: he held this “noble one” in his grasp and was devouring him piece by piece.

‘Is this what nobility inherently is, or does this particular person simply possess an especially vile nature?’

It was a textbook rhetorical strategy—elevating the other to prove one’s own superiority.

“I respect you.”
“….”

Yet beneath that veneer lurked fear. He knew his own incompleteness better than anyone. The fact that his counterpart had consumed his blood made even that much discernible.

“…I see.”

Having grasped this much, I narrowed my eyes and smiled back at him.

“It is no easy matter to expel what one has swallowed.”
“….”
“Is it not?”

I tried to maintain a composed tone, but it was difficult. There was a peculiar discomfort in having the pillars that sustained me gnawed away—a sensation wholly different from physical pain.

‘An ingenious form of torture, presented before such an elaborate Dining Table.’

The emotions I lost in this moment could never be reclaimed. That realization made me deeply uneasy. Despite having anticipated this scenario, my spirits sank with alarming speed.

‘This will prove far more troublesome than I imagined.’
“The flavor isn’t too bland, I trust?”
“I’m grateful for such gracious hospitality.”

The true conversation had begun.

“Thanks to you, I find myself rediscovering the pleasure of dining after so long.”

Though I had only taken a single sip of wine, I answered thus. The Guest made no mention of this contradiction, instead asking:

“Do you harbor no worries?”
“Jehovah shall…”

A name perhaps unfamiliar to one who had once been Nobility in Bohemia. In truth, I had no desire to display such ostentatious erudition, yet there was method to this choice.

“I merely follow the faith that He will ensure I lack nothing.”

The language of that era had wavered precariously between Protestant faith and Catholic politics. As expected, the response came far more eagerly than I had anticipated.

“Ah, Jehovah.”

His fingertips drifted slowly through empty air—a peculiar gesture, as though attempting to carefully grasp something invisible.

“A rather unfamiliar tongue to me. The name of a faith I do not know well.”
“Faith forever seeks new paths.”
“New paths, you say.”
“Is it not so?”

I tilted my head slightly as I continued.

“Much like those who once turned from their god and donned the wolf’s hide merely to survive.”

The words pierced directly through his past—a time when survival demanded he deny his true nature and wear a mask of deception.

I didn’t want to resort to such a personal attack.

When I pointed out how his very existence teetered precariously upon a foundation of immense hypocrisy and incompleteness, a chill settled briefly over the Dining Table.

Those blood-red eyes fixed upon Lee Yeon-woo.

“Oh.”

Rather than answer, he tilted his head as if mimicking Lee Yeon-woo’s gesture. Cold silver-gray hair cascaded around his shoulders.

Still smiling in silence, he posed a question.

“Can a starving belly be filled by faith alone?”
“The weight of reality exists, so it is not easy for me to judge him with my tongue. A compassionate heart alone cannot procure even a single piece of bread before one’s eyes in this world.”
“Yet as you know, there is also the saying that man does not live by bread alone.”
“Of course.”

Lee Yeon-woo’s eyes curved more gently.

“Is not the difference between man and beast that we live not merely for visible sustenance, but for invisible meaning and value?”
“Invisible meaning and value—noble words indeed.”

Just as the Tasteless Guest had done moments before, Lee Yeon-woo now cut off his opponent’s words first.

“Yet man remains but a part of nature, and sometimes a single starving wolf commands a hundred sheep. The logic of the world is that simple.”

He did not answer.

“But even so, it is equally true that pride invites ruin.”
“….”
“Sometimes… does not the wolf disguise itself as a lamb and slip among the flock?”

Lee Yeon-woo received the sharp gaze directed at him with unhurried composure, then raised his glass once more. Rich, sweet wine slid down his throat.

Only then did the Tasteless Guest answer in a low voice.

“I would have been pleased to tear out my heart and show it to you.”

An assertion of his own innocence coupled with the implicit pressure: will you create a heart for something that never possessed one to begin with? Lee Yeon-woo set down his glass and met his gaze directly.

“Beware false prophecies from the heavens, as they say.”
“I possess neither the fleece of a lamb nor the claws of a wolf.”
“Ah, how noble of you.”

With each exchange, something within me continued to be stripped away. Yet I could not abandon this place. It was not a rule that had been imposed.

‘Whether in reality or in the Game, rules are equally arbitrary.’

All Lee Yeon-woo could do was bring this bizarre conversation to a close. Rather than succumb to the rising tide of revulsion, I resolved to focus solely on my destination.

“Is it not futile?”
“…What is?”
“Who knows.”

The elaborate dishes upon the Dining Table, or perhaps the futile efforts and struggles he poured forth. Either interpretation mattered little to me. What mattered was seizing control within this Closed Space.

It was the Tasteless Guest himself who had seated me across from him. If so, then he would have to pay the price for treating this guest so carelessly. That was the inevitable conclusion I had reached.

“Though I am young and foolish, I have observed that all the world’s toil and virtue come with lamentation attached. Many say that what remains for all those people is merely power and strength. They speak of nothing but instinct.”

The Tasteless Guest posed a question in response to my words.

“What do you make of it?”
“To the eyes of one who sings of emptiness, the world may indeed appear that way. But the ability to wield human language is not the province of humans alone.”
“You are rather like a demon.”

To this barbed jest, I responded with unhurried composure.

“It seems you inhabit the same place as I do.”
….

At that riposte, the host tilted his head ever so slightly. I savored a peculiar sense of victory in that moment. It was a pure joy, as if I had just been born anew.

‘It seems he hasn’t become aware of it yet….’

You’ve become quite talkative.

* * *

“To one who sings of emptiness, the world may indeed appear that way. Yet it is not only humans who know how to speak the language of mankind.”
“You are like a demon.”

Only the clergy could invoke sacred passages—or so one might think. Demons, too, were eloquent speakers, and the “noble one” before me wielded insight as though to prove precisely that point.

Then The God Made of Blood added softly:

“It seems you dwell in a place like mine.”
“….”

The Young Man turned the words over in his mind, tilting his head slightly. In denying his own innocence, Lee Yeon-woo had placed himself on the same plane as an infernal demon.

That audacious declaration stirred something peculiar within him—a nostalgia not for the fresh sweetness of a spring garden, but for something far more barren and, above all, passionate from his past.

“…Ah.”

I had thought him young, yet perhaps he was not.

“This is not my home, noble one.”
“If I was discourteous, I pray you forgive me. Yet surely one who has heard the words of a truly noble being would understand that I merely employed a rough metaphor.”
“Of course. I am grateful for your apology and express my joy.”

I lost this exchange. The Young Man had no choice but to admit it to himself.

“It is enough that we have been granted this opportunity to share time together and speak our true hearts.”

Ah, yes. This was precisely what I had longed for—such conversation, such company, such moments.

“It seems the excellence of this place extends beyond merely the cuisine.”
“I am pleased to hear you speak so highly of our Hotel. It warms the heart of one who manages it.”
“You are….”

The Young Man suddenly asked.

“Why aren’t you angry?”
“Has the performance ended?”
“Why won’t you cry?”
“You haven’t eaten anything.”
“I’ve eaten my fill.”
“I suppose.”

The most sacred blood in the world asked again.

“Do you require assistance?”
“….”

He offered a smile as though gazing down upon all creation.

“I would wish to join you in that seat, yet in this wretched state, it would be impossible.”
“…you are most merciful….”
“Yet even so, to fail in entertaining The Guest would be a grave shame.”
“Hollow words,”
“but I do hope you will savor the remaining seat.”
“You are greedy.”

The Young Man could not help but add those words.

“I would not have done the same.”
“Indeed you would not.”
“The moon is dark, and the night stretches long.”

The Old Vampire rose from his seat and bowed with reverence in his movements.

“May the noble convictions of an esteemed one light the way.”

Who would not have crumbled before him?

The countless humans the Young Man had faced crumbled and fell into depravity before him without exception.

Those whose hearts had grown old and rusted, stripped even of the warmth they once cherished, inevitably collapsed into despair. He had gladly consumed that emotion, hoping Lee Yeon-woo would meet the same fate.

Yet Lee Yeon-woo smiled until the very end and concluded their conversation.

“….”

Lee Yeon-woo held the Young Man’s gaze until the very end, smiling without hesitation before departing from his seat without a backward glance.

The Young Man remained rooted to the spot, watching his figure disappear down another corridor for a long moment.

Restraint is the armor of refinement, reason is a concealed weapon, and conviction is the mark of honor. Once, the Young Man possessed all of these—yet now they were things forever lost to him.

Then what of you?

“…I wonder indeed.”

For the first time, he felt genuine curiosity.

How long could one remain noble?

* * *

[Memory of Warmth: Winter Forest Banquet (Sample Course)]

Appetizer
Oak-Smoked Venison with Gentle Herb Emulsion

Thinly sliced venison infused with oak smoke, accompanied by warmed herb oil. Fresh from the flame, it carries a pleasant warmth, with the smoky essence of the forest and rich meat flavor melding softly across the palate.

Soup
Snow-Peak Broth Enhanced with Clove and Whole Pepper

Small game bones—quail and mountain hare among them—simmered low and slow to extract a wild, concentrated depth. The weighty warmth conveyed by clove and crushed black pepper gradually warms the body with each sip.

Main Course
Mouflon Loin Braised Gently in Red Wine

Wild mouflon braised slowly with red wine and herbs to preserve its tender texture. A rich sauce poured fresh onto the plate melts across the palate, leaving behind a lingering, weighty warmth.

Accompaniments
White Wheat Bread Fresh from the Hearth and Butter-Infused New Potatoes

Wholesome and chewy white wheat bread still warm from the wood-fired heat, paired with tender potatoes whose very core is suffused with butter’s richness. The fragrant grain aroma that rises as the bread is torn, along with its white steam, conveys a comforting warmth.

Dessert
Warm Vanilla Custard and Caramel Glaze

Beneath a crisp sugar shell lies a velvety vanilla cream infused with warmth. As the caramel crust shatters, sweet steam rises in delicate wisps, bringing the meal to a graceful close with its aromatic embrace.

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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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