Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 82

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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 82.

[Memory of Connection: Summer Flower’s Feast]

Amuse Bouche
Peach and Basil Oil

Capturing the season’s perfectly ripened peaches, their crystalline sweetness is enhanced with fragrant basil oil. The refreshing herbal notes awaken the palate to the first thrill of the course.

Appetizer
Tomato Carpaccio with Rose Vinaigrette

Thinly sliced tomatoes are paired with a vinaigrette infused with the elegance of roses. The bright floral fragrance and crisp acidity awaken the senses of a summer day.

Warm Appetizer
Burrata Cheese and Fig Compote

Creamy burrata cheese is crowned with gently simmered fig compote. The dense, savory richness of the cheese harmonizes beautifully with the deep sweetness of the fruit.

Grain Course
Saffron Risotto with Roasted Shrimp

Risotto delicately infused with the subtle fragrance of golden saffron is accompanied by tender, perfectly roasted shrimp. Within the luxurious texture of the grain lies the exotic essence of summer.

Main Course
Herb-Crusted Lamb Chops with Cherry Sauce

Young lamb chops, roasted with a fragrant herb crust, are touched with a sauce carrying the tartness of cherries. The succulent richness of the meat and the abundance of fruit deliver umami across the entire palate.

Pre-Dessert
Lavender Grapefruit Granita

A delicate granita where subtle lavender fragrance mingles with the tart acidity of grapefruit. It refreshes the palate in preparation for the final journey.

Dessert
Dark Chocolate Mousse with Raspberry

A tart raspberry accent crowns the deep, rich dark chocolate mousse. The weighty resonance of cocoa mingles with the vibrant vitality of wild berries—a bittersweet finale that lingers on the palate.

* * *

The meal had just concluded.

“Do you know what I mean?”

I didn’t bother with pleasantries. We’d seen enough of each other already.

“….”
“Everyone wears a mask.”

The Tasteless Guest had begun eating before I’d even picked up my utensils. Yet I could sense his attention fixed upon my words, so I continued.

“The varieties and degrees differ, certainly. The most common reason is to navigate society with greater finesse. I’m no exception.”
“….”
“With friends, I wear a face suited to them. At work, I’m respectful to my superiors, dependable to my colleagues. But as things deepen… the masks become more intricate.”
“….”
“Eventually, I can’t quite remember what my own face looked like. It happens sometimes. And for someone who’s lived far longer than I have, I imagine it happens far more often.”

My appetite had vanished. Still.

“I know you despise me.”
“….”

The Tasteless Guest lifted his gaze to meet mine. In that naked reaction, I suddenly understood. He no longer intended to feign civility before me.

But yes—this was precisely the demeanor I’d wanted.

“So I’m grateful.”

How refreshing this honesty is.

“I prefer to have conversations face-to-face.”
“…Conversation.”
“We’re finally having a proper conversation now.”

How long had he lived? I couldn’t say for certain. But if my suspicion was correct, the Tasteless Guest had lived far longer than I had—a true elder in the span of years.

Perhaps he had even forgotten his own face. That’s what it seemed like to me. An old man who had forgotten how to retrieve his own visage.

‘He looks middle-aged, though.’

His way of thinking seemed frozen in infancy.

‘But this is better.’

My heart felt considerably lighter.

“We haven’t known each other long, of course, but even I can tell—your personality is truly terrible.”
“Oh.”
“Childish yet greedy, wanting so many things, desiring so much, but with only two hands. You grasp what you can and still find it insufficient, so you scatter what remains. Always yourself first, yourself as the center of the world, yourself as more precious than anything else….”

No, that wasn’t right.

“You were supposed to be precious.”

But he had learned self-loathing instead. I could see that clearly.

“Forgive my intrusion. When you consumed my blood and I controlled yours, I read those memories. I grasped something of what emotions drove you, what kind of life you’ve lived.”

Truth be told, I didn’t need blood to understand it. His actions were far too direct compared to the facade and expressions he wore.

“That’s why I said it.”
“That you’re no different.”

He set down his cutlery and asked.

“Why?”
“….”

Ah, truly.

“…I have quite a lot to say as well….”

What was I to do with this overgrown child?

“…Shall we start from here? Why do you think we are different?”
“There are many reasons. From the very beginning of all this, to my end and your process.”
“For someone who has contemplated centuries, your logic is rather thin.”

I had anticipated he would say this, yet I was still taken aback.

“All people are different.”

Do you not know DNA?

“Everything from the first to the tenth is different. Appearance, birthplace, small habits, even voice, blood and cellular structure—all distinct. A completely identical being… well, I believe that even if cloned humans existed, they could never be truly the same.”

All humans live in different times.

“So your words lack logic. Merely that our life processes differed? Is that supposed to be the reason for difference? I will not use that as grounds.”
“You are the one forcing an argument. And yet, are we not different in appearance from the start?”
“If the ‘difference’ we speak of now was merely that, then there would be no reason for me to have come here. How sad.”
“But we are clearly different.”

He slowly spread his hand.

“I came from arrogance, you from goodwill.”
“….”
“I could not control, you could control.”
“….”
“I… failed….”
“You succeeded?”

Yes, that was precisely the point.

“Me?”

Lee Yeon-woo asked back, his face still devoid of mirth, dry and expressionless.

“Because you collapsed, and I did not?”
“I can’t deny it.”
“You’re overestimating me.”

He asked calmly.

“Do I appear perfect to you?”

I didn’t want to react defensively. It pained me to see how he justified his own failures and descent by dismissing even another’s pathetic struggles as innate nobility—such a shallow escape.

“Just because Belmarés is said to be the realm of the transcendent, does that make me look like some sublime god?”

A being who had lived for centuries, unable to bear the weight of his own failures, was degrading himself to a beast and making excuses. That wasn’t understanding—it was resignation.

Since he sat before me, I had no intention of leaving him to that resignation.

“Exactly how….”
“….”
“How little must you think of me to say such things?”

My gaze grew heavy.

Such thinking abandoned even one’s own possibilities. I had no right to rebuke or teach anyone. But I would draw a clear line against being dragged into that escape.

“I expected insight befitting the title of Ancient Blood Mage, yet you’ve been viewing me through such shallow standards.”
“Are you angry?”
“Don’t use me as an excuse to rationalize your resignation.”

I laughed without even smoothing away my furrowed brow.

“Now that things have concluded so well, I’ll say this….”

I decided to share my own story willingly.

“I never wanted to be here.”
“I understand.”
“I didn’t want to wear that suffocating formal attire. I could only smile if something covered me, had to repeat self-harm and experiments I didn’t need to, and even now….”
“Yes.”
“I don’t even know if I can still call myself human.”

It was less an emotional appeal than an objective truth spoken to the person before him.

“Why is it different? You could do it, so why couldn’t I?”
“….”
“Did I appear to have done it? Did it seem as though I could control myself, my surroundings, everything connected to me?”

His voice carried no wavering.

“Did it seem as though I never truly collapsed?”

As though I had walked this far with elegance, without a single stumble?

“Can you say that?”

He was no god—merely an imperfect man who stumbled ungracefully yet hoped only to rise again. So the Tasteless Guest had no reason to use him as an excuse to diminish her own life.

With his eyes closed, Lee Yeon-woo exhaled slowly, as though untangling his knotted emotions, and spoke.

“….”
“I am not a person of virtue.”

Quite the opposite.

“I am arrogant enough to believe I can control my surroundings through my own strength, and greedy enough that anything I don’t know must fall within my grasp and understanding.”
“That is….”
“How is that different from you?”
“It must be different?”
“So then, what exactly is?”

Lee Yeon-woo surveyed his surroundings and asked.

“Does it appear I have anything left?”
“….”

The Tasteless Guest spoke.

“…This Luxurious Building, your demon, and countless Staff Members?”
“That was never something I originally possessed.”
“Yet it remains within your grasp, does it not….”
“Then why do you refuse to hold it in your hands?”
“…Well….”
“I too have lost what I once held.”

A home. A family. Friends. The entire world had forgotten him, and now even his identity had vanished. Of everything Lee Yeon-woo had originally possessed, only “Lee Yeon-woo” remained.

And the man before me stood in the same position.

“There may have been a beginning, but nothing has truly ended. You simply refuse to see it.”
“….”

I tilted my head slightly.

“Everyone carries desire and hunger within them. The possibility of collapse is utterly universal, and those of us who have endured the Red Heart Experiment ritual are even more susceptible to it.”

Was it not obvious?

“Do you believe your own descent is something uniquely special? Do not deceive yourself. I am falling as well. Even I cannot fathom how far my own humanity will degrade….”
“….”
“Yes, I have endured somewhat better. But what does that accomplish? In the end, it is merely a result that could reverse at any moment—there is no fundamental difference.”
“….”
“Do you understand what I am saying?”

It should not be difficult to grasp.

“We are not parallel—we stand upon the same line.”
“…But that is….”
“You ahead, I behind.”
“That is….”
“And a line, you see….”

I looked once more at the Host across from me.

“…is merely an arrangement of countless points.”
“….”
“…Do you truly believe anything in this world possesses genuine nobility?”

What is nobility, anyway?

“And what is the standard for perfection?”

Yet such words exist nonetheless. This means that the “nobility” and “perfection” that people speak of are merely temporary states, nothing more than the accumulation of repeated actions.

“Of course, they might exist somewhere in this world—it seems far wider than I once believed. But I suspect such ideals would be difficult to apply to people like you and me, at the very least.”
“Is that so.”
“Therefore, I wish to offer you a gift.”

Lee Yeon-woo flicked his fingers, and the Staff Member approached, extending a silver teapot.

“….”
“….”

A teapot containing coffee.

“They say that coffee offered by the host is a sign of affection.”
“Indeed it is.”
“Would you not offer a cup to one who has come to pay their respects?”
“Gladly.”

Coffee poured into a silver cup made its way across the table to Lee Yeon-woo. I lifted the cup naturally, my weary expression unchanged.

And then, one sip.

“….”

A second sip.

“….”

A third sip.

“….”
“…Ah.”

I showed the inside of the empty cup, then set it down upon the Dining Table.

“How refreshing.”

He asked.

“What flavor do your negative emotions carry?”
“….”
“Until just moments ago, I could taste them vividly, but now… I’m not so sure.”
“….”
“I can’t quite tell anymore.”
“Ah….”
“It seems my palate is satisfied, at least.”

For reasons I couldn’t fathom, the Tasteless Guest fixed his gaze upon me. He appeared flustered—a far cry from one who had consumed the emotions of countless souls.

I recognized my own condition.

‘…My emotions have grown dull.’

Or perhaps the opposite. Each unfamiliar sensation that touched me arrived with sharp clarity.

‘In this case, to be precise, it’s not that they’ve dulled… they arise only to scatter?’

Vivid enough that I wouldn’t call it dullness, yet simultaneously, I sensed a peculiar detachment from reality. It felt as though I were observing all of this—the situation and my responses to it—as an audience member in a cinema.

‘Purely receiving information, nothing more.’

I’d pondered this before. This notion of “having emotions consumed” harbored many ambiguities from a modern scientific perspective. Had something gone wrong with my amygdala or hippocampus? Or perhaps the medial prefrontal cortex?

Yet it wasn’t that I couldn’t feel emotions at all. Even if they scattered quickly, emotions weren’t entirely absent from my memory. Something felt distinctly off.

“….”

This was a domain science struggled to explain.

‘…It’s a completely different state than when I still harbored negative emotions.’

Yet it was undeniably more pleasant than before. At least now, reason and emotion could interlock. When only negative emotions remained, I thought I was experiencing a split personality.

Well, regardless.

“I never imagined you would enjoy it to such an extent.”
“I.”
“What of it?”

Lee Yeon-woo reached for a wine glass instead of the empty silver cup.

“It’s rather unremarkable, isn’t it? Vulgar, even?”

The emotions of this person called ‘Lee Yeon-woo’—whom he had so greatly overestimated—were nothing more than that.

Thus, the Tasteless Guest had consumed all the light and shadow of Lee Yeon-woo. Now he would understand. Perhaps he had appeared noble when consuming only the positive aspects, but had he not also consumed the negative ones?

Lee Yeon-woo, moistening his throat with wine, regarded his counterpart with an expressionless face.

“Do I still appear to be a flawless person?”
“….”
“Do I seem like a success without blemish?”
“….”

He answered.

“No.”
“You understand well.”
“You are….”
“I’m ordinary.”

Simply an ordinary person.

“Nothing more than a flawed man who cannot even govern himself.”

That is all.

* * *

The Young Man understood why Lee Yeon-woo spoke in such a manner.

“I never wanted to be here.”
“I understand.”

Of course. Who would want to remain shackled to the place that had made them ‘that way’? At the very least, no human could bear it. I had become trapped in a living hell with no escape.

“I didn’t even want to wear that suffocating formal suit. I could only smile like a brainwashed puppet when I wore something—anything. I had to repeat self-harm and experiments I shouldn’t have had to do. And now, even…”
“Yes.”
“I don’t even know if I can still call myself human.”

The young man couldn’t bring himself to say, “You cannot be called human.” Because Lee Yeon-woo was far too human—and perhaps precisely because of that, he already knew the truth.

“Why is it different?”

Lee Yeon-woo continued to pour out his anguish.

“You could do it, so why couldn’t I? Did I appear to have done it? Did I seem like I could control myself, my surroundings, everything connected to me?”

You truly didn’t want that path.

“Did I seem like I never fell apart?”

But I did fall apart.

“….”
“Can you even say that?”

He thought he wouldn’t.

‘Is this his real face?’

His face was always changing.

‘His voice too,’
‘His body,’
‘His behavior.’

He never knew his true form, hidden from everyone, could be so young. He never knew the nature he’d kept concealed could be so righteous.

“I’m not a person of virtue.”

But you were.

“I am arrogant enough to believe I can control my surroundings through my own power, and greedy enough that anything I don’t know must fall within my grasp and understanding.”
“That is….”

The Young Man could not bring himself to continue. The newly reborn version of him carried no memories of the past. Yet now, as he stood before one who remembered that former self, a thought crystallized.

‘You must have committed deeds I know nothing of, driven by that very arrogance and greed.’

I cannot fathom what became of all those people you allegedly made vanish. I paid them no mind, foolishly assuming your nature mirrored my own.

Yet now, even the foundation of your dark reputation seemed questionable to me.

‘If you truly lived up to that infamy, the spirits bound to this Hotel would never cling to you so desperately.’

Faced with their desperate pleas for salvation, the Young Man found himself compelled to respond.

“What makes you different from them?”
“There must be a difference.”
“Then what, exactly?”

Anything.

“Do I appear to you as though I still possess something?”
“….”

The Young Man spoke.

“…This Luxurious Building, your demon, and countless Staff Members?”

Look—you remain trapped here still, attempting to transform this hell into paradise.

“These were never mine to begin with.”
“Yet they remain at your side, within your hands….”

The world still calls you the Devil.

* * *

The ‘negative emotion’ just consumed was, compared to that grandiose reputation, utterly mundane and unremarkable.

Not one who has surrendered to malice toward the world, nor one completely drowned in suffering, yet unable to set everything aside with serene detachment.

Too ordinary to be called perfect….

“….”

A human.

‘…To endure all of that and still remain this way.’

How distant a tragedy it is—to become a god while remaining human.

“…ah….”

Perhaps you alone seemed to have forgotten that.

—————
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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