Our Hotel Is Open for Business as Usual - Chapter 83

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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 83.

And then he spoke.

“How about this?”

Everything until now, even the confession moments ago—all of it dismissed as though it were nothing.

“We help each other.”
“….”
“We share many similarities, but if I accept your argument, there are certainly differences between us. Yet those differences cannot define us as fundamentally ‘different beings’….”
“….”
“You do what I cannot. I teach you what you do not know. Since we’re not altering each other’s very essence, there’s nothing difficult about it. No reason to make it complicated.”

How cunningly manipulative. Had it not been for the lingering aftertaste of ‘negative emotion’ caught in my throat, I would have taken that confession just now for an act. After all, he was an actor talented enough to deceive even vampires.

Yet surprisingly, when he spoke, he rarely uttered falsehoods….

“You speak nonsense.”
“You’ve already experienced it, so you know—living as a being made of blood, existing as such an entity, is no simple matter.”
“How long have I even lived?”
“Though you would know that better than I.”

He spoke of the man’s deficiency as something ‘you understand better than I do’.

“Compared to you, I am not merely young—I am but a child.”

That much was evident.

“So I lack experience, and frankly, I do not understand this field of Blood Magic well. If you were to teach me such things… it would be of great help to me.”

Me? I who have become Riedmar, teaching Belmarés?

“I am equally capable of providing what you need. The palate you possessed when you were human, the joy of sharing a meal with a friend, or perhaps the support to sustain you before you crumble entirely.”
“….”
“Why do you hesitate? Because we fought each other? That was certainly beneath my years, I’ll admit. But now I recognize it as something I should reflect upon.”
“…ha….”

I could not comprehend it.

“What basis do you have?”
“For me to trust you? For you to trust me?”
“Both.”
“First, I have come to know you quite well by now.”
“Know me well?”
“That peculiar nature of yours.”

He spoke with a face devoid of any hint of amusement.

“When you’ve fought recklessly and cast aside all dignity, you learn things you otherwise wouldn’t.”
“Such crude criticism.”
“That unusually sharp temperament of yours—I’m growing accustomed to it.”

Was it trust, or was it conviction?

“So I will choose to trust you.”
“Then how am I supposed to trust you?”

And then.

“Do you know what I mean?”

He said this as well.

“You consumed me, and I consumed you. For Heart-Eater Practitioners, there is no better condition for understanding one another than this.”
“You barely let me consume anything, yet you speak as though you’ve done something grand.”
“Look.”

He gestured toward the meager feast before him as he spoke.

“People with naturally bad temperaments tend to associate with one another.”
“…And your temperament is…?”
“As you can see, rather poor.”
“….”
“After all, similar people gravitate toward each other, do they not?”
“…I suppose….”

Frankly,

“….”

I still didn’t understand.

Despite hearing that long, winding tale, I was left with nothing but bewilderment.

That insufferable wretch lacked all self-awareness, yet clung to his convictions with stubborn conviction. By what measure could he possibly be considered “similar” to me?

‘We’re nothing alike.’

Our actions differed, our inclinations differed, our ways of thinking differed. If I were to create a checklist and compare us, the items that didn’t overlap would far outnumber those that did.

And yet.

“….”
“….”

And yet, why.

“…May I think about this?”
“Everyone has the freedom to think.”
“How fortunate that is….”

Why couldn’t I brush away that hand as decisively as I had rejected that exquisite meal?

It was incomprehensible.

“But….”
“What.”
“Still, I must say….”
“What is it.”
“No matter how I think about it, I feel regret.”
“Regret about what now.”
“Not that expression.”
“I’m not making any expression.”
“I can tell just by looking.”

Lee Yeon-woo added.

“Truth is, I have one more prepared recipe left.”
“Good heavens, Belmarés.”

And the god did not answer.

“Ah… I understand you were busy.”
“I couldn’t say otherwise.”
“Even while dying, you remained diligent.”
“It’s the advantage of a working man.”

―The virtue of a machine, sir!
“….”

…The young man rubbed his ear. Lee Yeon-woo asked.

“Are you hinting that it’s noisy now?”
“After living so long, I’ve endured every manner of reproach.”
“Would you not care to savor the final menu?”
“Will you carve away even the last morsel from an already-decided victory?”
“I too deserve to enjoy the spoils of victory.”
“It seems sufficient, yet your greed rivals that of Shylock.”
“The Merchant of Venice is a fascinating book… so?”
“So what.”

He shrugged, waving the hand away from his ear.

“Let me extract the liver of a flea for you, my friend.”

Of course, Lee Yeon-woo was resolute.

“Where’s this flea you’re talking about?”
“It’s rather large, admittedly.”
“Did you call for me?”

* * *

…
…
“…—Karel!”

A cheerful voice echoed through the Staff Break Room of a certain restaurant.

The man being called lifted his head.

“Yes?”
“Did you have an enjoyable vacation?”
“Of course.”

The Sous Chef Karel, with jet-black hair and marble-like skin, always impeccably dressed, bearing an aristocratic smile befitting his refined appearance and the dignified presence of a man in his forties, was the idol of many chefs.

The Part Chef studied the face of the man returning from his vacation.

“Certainly, well, you look good.”
“Do I look good?”
“Forgive my impertinence, but your face, Karel—it seems somewhat more… than usual.”
“More than usual?”
“…Radiant?”
“….”

Karel’s lips twisted ever so subtly.

“…?”

A response that seemed slightly displeased yet strangely lukewarm. Confronted with this unfamiliar demeanor from the Sous Chef who had always guarded the kitchen like an ancient tree, the Part Chef felt somewhat disconcerted.

After some time had passed, he who had been wiping the corner of his mouth asked.

“…Something troubling came up during my vacation.”

Ah, how rare—the Sous Chef was broaching a personal matter. I had assumed he would gloss over it with his usual smile, as always. The Part Chef responded with genuine interest.

“Something troubling?”
“Perhaps.”
“Sounds like you’ve acquired an amusing headache.”
“A striking metaphor.”
“Did you take a liking to another promising student, like before? Or perhaps you’ve acquired a pet?”
“…Admittedly, they are young enough to be called a student….”

He continued shortly after.

“…For now, a small nemesis?”

A little nemesis?

The Part Chef nearly burst into laughter at those words, but caught himself. He had never expected to hear a word like “nemesis” from Karel’s lips—the man who typically carried himself with the composure of a dignified gentleman.

“Don’t tell me you’ve acquired a nephew?”
“Hardly.”
“You seem to be paying them considerable attention for that.”
“They proposed we become friends.”
“Good heavens, friends?”
“It’s the second proposal now.”
“Oh….”

The Part Chef marveled at this.

“You don’t seem displeased.”
“I rejected the first proposal quite harshly, so I never imagined I would receive a second one.”
“If this audacious little one has caught Karel’s eye, they must be quite talented?”
“Talented, yes.”
“A chef, then? Or a gourmet?”
“Both.”
“Remarkable.”

A truly exceptional chef is invariably an accomplished gourmet as well. If they had caught the eye of Karel, they possessed extraordinary talent indeed. Naturally, the Part Chef, having already inferred that this “small nemesis” was an aspiring chef, pressed further.

“Did your friend’s suggestion have a reason behind it? Perhaps you wanted to become the assistant to the famous Karel?”
“Then I wouldn’t have used the word ‘rival.'”
“Hmm, then….”
“….”

Karel answered with a composed smile.

“He said we’d both have something to gain.”
“How reckless of him.”
“He’s a friend worthy of such recklessness.”
“My.”

Already defending him, no less. For all his talk of rivalry, I can sense the favoritism he’s trying so hard to conceal.

“So, will you accept your friend’s proposal?”
“I’m still considering it.”
“Hmm, is there a reason for that as well?”
“I’m afraid he might sweep me along with him.”
“Will you tell me that was a joke?”
“It was a joke.”

Which meant it wasn’t a joke at all.

“Wow, you certainly had an entertaining vacation.”
“It was spectacular enough to film as a movie.”

He shrugged with a slight grin.

“I came back having lost considerable face, I’m afraid.”
“You, Karel?”
“Embarrassing as it is to admit, somewhat.”
“If there’s something to learn even from a young student, then one should learn it—I think that’s one of your finest qualities.”

The Part Chef added with a playful laugh.

“It seems you’ve found yourself a good teacher.”
“A teacher, you say.”
“Hmm…? If what you’re saying is true, then in some respects…?”
“…Ah, I see….”
“…?”
“….”

As the silence began to grow awkward, Karel turned to the Part Chef with a question.

“Is the Head Chef here?”
“Oh, of course. He’s always the first to arrive.”
“I’d like to have a brief word with him.”
“What’s this about…?”
“Henri.”

He gave the Part Chef a gentle tap on the forehead.

“Thanks to you, my thoughts have become much clearer.”
“….”
“I enjoyed our conversation.”
“….”

The Part Chef, who had been staring blankly, suddenly jolted awake and looked at him in alarm.

“…Oh, um, ah, Karel? Good heavens, did I fall asleep?”
“I heard you helped with ingredient prep until dawn, but I never expected you’d nod off right in front of me.”
“What? Oh, goodness. I’m terribly sorry, Sous Chef. My mind’s been scattered lately…. What were we just talking about?”

Karel spoke matter-of-factly.

“About how a pea nearly slid across the kitchen all the way to the guest table?”
“Damn, that’s right. It did happen. That was quite the scare.”
“Forgive me for interrupting our pleasant conversation, Henri. I should pay my respects to the Head Chef.”
“Ah… of course, I’ve been talking your ear off. See you in the kitchen later.”
“Yes, then.”

He smiled.

“I’m counting on you.”

Once the Tasteless Guest disappears, the next Sous Chef will be him.

* * *

Tap, tap.

“Ah….”

The young man looked up.

“It’s raining again.”

Another young man, Rawi, chimed in with a casual remark.

“The weather here is really strange, isn’t it?”
“It tends to be that way overall.”
“Do you have climate crises on this side too?”
“Rather than that, I’d say it’s more like a crisis itself, wouldn’t you say….”

Seme unfolded the map once more.

“Keep up with me so you don’t fall behind.”
“Ah… I really don’t like the Golden Cave….”
“The Guild doesn’t always assign a senior alongside you like this, so it’s good to learn ahead of time when you have a guide like me.”
“I’ll do my best.”

Rawi asked with an easygoing expression.

“Is the atmosphere here always like this?”
“Hm?”
“No, it’s just a bit scary.”
“…Ah.”

Seme, observing his junior’s face, nodded.

“The Gap does have that quality to it.”

The Gap-world Society. A secondary social structure formed by the accumulation of resonance, memory, symbol, and labyrinth that the human everyday cannot accommodate. A world built upon the “residue of everything reality has rejected.”

“Most of the residents here aren’t human.”
“That’s a harsh thing to say. They all look rather similar to me.”
“Appearances deceive. Their internal structures are entirely different.”

Seme shrugged with a hint of smugness.

“Myself included.”

Unlike Rawi, who was human, he was a mage.

“In any case, you’d do well to guard your tongue. I know you speak freely because you believe me trustworthy in several respects, but an artist without backing like you can easily be exploited.”

Rawi feigned a look of disappointment.

“I thought you’d help me out, Senior.”
“Well… but I have my own work to do. I need to earn money, after all.”
“You know, Senior, you’re kind of giving off T energy when I really look at you.”
“Hm? Ah, MBTI… refrain from using outside terminology like that too.”
“Goodness, I’m working on it, really.”
“You should try harder.”
“Yes, sir…”

Seme, watching Rawi’s reluctant compliance, added another thought.

“Still, for a human arriving in the Gap for the first time, you’re doing well. I’m not sure how you found your way here, but the guilds you discovered—the Brokerage Guild especially—are the safest option.”
“Ah, I do have decent instincts, after all.”
“Lucky for you. But just in case, avoid the Assassination Guild and the Wanderer’s Alliance. And don’t even encounter the Ritual Guild—it has strong religious overtones.”
“I see…”

Rawi’s eyes widened as he asked.

“Just hearing the names tells the story, doesn’t it? The first sounds like assassins, the last like a pseudo-religious cult?”
“You’ve grasped it well. Their missions are brutal, and contract breaches result in summary judgment. The Wanderer’s Alliance is like a lawless marketplace—perfect for getting backstabbed.”
“Yikes…”

Seme vaulted over the stone wall.

“This way.”
“Yes, Senior.”

Seme stepped into the alley and continued speaking.

“At least the Brokerage Guild you chose is the best option for selling labor.”
“Ah, thank you. I’m about 30% less terrified now.”
“Of course, that place is no different from a black market either.”
“I’m back to being terrified, but I’ll endure it.”
“Admirable.”

Seme scanned the surroundings again and continued walking.

“But each Brokerage Guild operates differently, so you should look carefully before registering. Some places primarily post commissions as dangerous as those from the Assassination Guild, and many exploit young, ignorant artists with illegal contracts.”
“Does the word ‘illegal’ even have meaning here?”
“Fair point. As a native, it’s embarrassing. I thought I should treat my newly acquired junior well, but here we are.”
“Come on, you’re already treating me wonderfully~ Senior.”
“Then I’m relieved.”

After a moment of thought, he looked at his junior, Rawi.

“…What do you think about the Resonance Cultural Bureau?”
“Ah, I didn’t want to belong to the state.”
“I see.”

Seme nodded in understanding.

“Since you’ve made your choice, I won’t say more.”
“Thank you, Senior. I’m fortunate to have your support.”
“So then, how is it?”

He moved forward and asked.

“Your impression of the Gap?”
“May I be honest?”
“…? Now of all times?”
“It feels like I’ve arrived in a dystopia.”
“At least it hasn’t reached apocalypse levels.”
“Ah, is that what you meant?”
“Good grief.”

Seme smiled bitterly.

“Not quite the spectacle you were hoping for, was it?”
“To be honest, I came here imagining the magical world of Harry Potter.”
“I’ve seen that too. It was entertaining.”
“It’s not nearly as romantic as that, though.”
“I’m genuinely worried, so please don’t—chasing romance in the Gap is a quick way to end up dead.”
“The sincerity behind your concern is actually suffocating.”
“You’re an artist, so you probably won’t die easily anyway.”

Rawi laughed, letting out an “oh.”

“Because you’re strong?”
“No, because you’re useful.”
“…? Isn’t that worse than dying?”
“For a mage who doesn’t even leave a corpse behind when they die, asking such things is….”
“Should I shut up?”
“Uh… let me think about it for a moment.”
“Roger.”

Seme, who had arrived at the valley where pitch-black waters flowed, folded the map while surveying the surroundings.

“This is it.”

An arrival that was not quite an arrival.

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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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