WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 458: That Woman J V
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* * *
“Wait here a moment, please. I’ll bring some tea.”
“Ah, thank you. I was already sorry to trouble you so late at night...”
“As I’ve said before, sleep time has no meaning for me. Wasn’t it the same for you too, Mr. Undertaker?”
“Ahaha. That’s true.”
“Please sit and wait just a little.”
After guiding the Undertaker to the living room sofa, the Saintess walked to the kitchen with a perfectly calm face and then crouched down.
Both hands completely covered her face.
Of course, she did not forget to click the pause button on time first.
‘Wh, wh, wh, what do I do?’
‘What should I do?’
Even in her thoughts, polite speech got mixed in. Having to flawlessly play the “Constellations” twenty-four hours a day had rubbed their manner of speech onto her in daily life as well.
‘Earlier... there was a faint smell of alcohol.’
The Saintess recalled greeting the Undertaker at the front door just now.
Yes. Definitely. It had been very faint, but there had been a trace of alcohol.
It absolutely had not been unpleasant, and if anything it had been soft, like stepping into some dimly lit bar.
‘After he finished dinner with Dang Seo-rin... he didn’t go to a bar afterward, but he did have a drink? Maybe it was something like that.’
If so, then rather than serving only plain tea, it would be better to prepare snacks too.
‘Chocolate... I’m all out. Sh, shrimp crackers? Uuummm. Isn’t that too old-fashioned? Honestly... I don’t really know what makes a good drinking snack.’
Rustle, rustle.
The Saintess rose onto her toes and rummaged through the ceiling. She had a fair amount of snacks stockpiled up there.
The people around her had arbitrarily decided that the Saintess must have refined, luxurious tastes, but that was a tremendous misunderstanding.
As evidenced by the fact that she used a top-class barista like the Undertaker as little more than a machine for making slightly better instant coffee, the Saintess’s palate was extremely friendly to common folk.
‘Something. Something that would look stylish to serve at a time like this... but still wouldn’t be strange. If only I had a snack like that!’
For a snack like that, fruit or cheese would have been the standard answer, but sadly, neither of those was stored in the ceiling of the Yongsan house at the moment.
Should she quickly bring something from somewhere else, no, but if the hypothesis that Mr. Undertaker could move even inside [Time Stop] was true, then freezing time this long over mere snacks would be such a disgrace...
“Ah?”
Crinkle.
At that moment, her fingertips caught on supplies stored deep in the ceiling. The wrapper felt metallic, almost aluminum-like, and it was roughly square.
The eternal luxury item of the apocalypse.
It was ramyeon.
“...”
The Saintess’s body froze solid, as if she had been struck by a petrification spell.
Of course, it was not that the ramyeon had suddenly awakened to its identity as an anomaly and gone, ‘Gasp, I was actually Medusa?’ If that had been the case, the Saintess’s heart would not have been racing like mad right now.
‘R, ramyeon...’
Gulp.
Secretly, where no one could hear, yet within that inner space where her own ego and superego could always listen, the Saintess mumbled:
"Would you like some ramyeon before you go, Mr. Undertaker?"[1]
Bang!
Without realizing it, the Saintess slammed the ceiling shut. Had she closed it too hard? Her palm stung.
Strangely, her face was burning too, but that was obviously because of the gust of air from shutting the ceiling. There was no room for doubt.
‘To, too... too old-fashioned. Old-fashioned! That’s not a line a person... a human being can survive saying!’
The Saintess covered her face again.
‘H, how do people say lines like that so casually? Shameless. Incredible... It, it takes unbelievable courage.’
Thump-thump-thump.
Her chest pounded so hard that even the Saintess could not understand it. After all, she was the very person responsible for erasing the concept of “privacy” from this world.
She had seen every kind of sight imaginable. Even while monitoring such things, the Saintess had never particularly been flustered.
It had been like watching educational footage of insect reproduction in biology class, or expressionlessly pressing the skip button.
And yet.
‘Why over something as trivial as this? Wh, why now?’
Cool.
Cool down, Jeong Ye-ji.
Realizing that the state of her mind was not normal, the Saintess immediately summoned the personalities of the Constellations. It was an attempt at objective self-assessment through third parties.
['The Saintess of National Salvation' cheers on your love. Love is a wonderful thing that God has permitted.]
No. Mr. Undertaker already has Dang Seo-rin!
['The Saintess of National Salvation' points out that she is French. That is no concern of hers.]
That doesn’t help at all!?
['The Chancellor of the Red Cape' reminds you that romance is also a kind of diplomacy. A classic technique may feel dated, but there is a reason it became a classic.]
You’re French too, aren’t you?
['The Chancellor of the Red Cape' gives a sly little smile, as if to say my, my, have I been found out, and slips into the dark.]
Please stop joking around!
This really isn’t helping at all!
['The Conquerer of the Alps' insists that the word impossible does not exist in your dictionary.]
That’s Napoleon. Not Hannibal, Napoleon!
['The Monarch of the Crimson Horse' counters, asking whether killing your own father, even killing your own sovereign, isn’t a matter of course for the sake of love.]
['The Monarch of the Crimson Horse' scoffs that a comrade's affections aren't even worth considering.]
“...”
Jeong Ye-ji suddenly realized something.
‘Huh? Could it be... the Constellations I’ve been acting out this whole time aren’t even the slightest bit helpful when it comes to love advice?’
Objective self-assessment, failed.
‘How on earth did Dang Seo-rin manage to ask Mr. Undertaker to go eat with her all this time without trembling even once?!’
‘And how did Cheon Yo-hwa manage to run over and cling to Mr. Undertaker’s arm every time she saw him?!’
‘As for Sim Ah-ryeon... ah, no. There’s no need to admire the thought process of someone half human, half anomaly.’
The Saintess stood up.
Firmly. She rose with the solidity of the life-sized Gundam statue in Odaiba.[2]
Then she pulled various snacks down from the ceiling.
Simply handing over unopened snack bags would be too much, so she tore each one open and arranged them neatly in a porcelain bowl, which she had not used in a while and had hurriedly scrubbed clean.
Chocolate mushroom snacks. Spicy shrimp crackers. Potato chips. Chopsticks, because potato chips should be eaten with chopsticks. Digestive biscuits... no. Not the digestives. They overlapped a little too much with the chocolate mushroom snacks. And, and, and.
“...”
Rustle.
Ramyeon. Not boiled ramyeon, but raw ramyeon. In other words, broken into quarter-sized pieces and quietly tucked away between the other snacks... This much, at least, was fine.
‘D, decoration.’
The Saintess nodded.
‘This is decoration. Raw ramyeon also has an aspect of being a snack. It’s a different genre from boiled ramyeon. Therefore... this is absolutely not a drinking snack prepared for some shady or shameless purpose.’
It was perfectly logical.
If Descartes and Kant had seen the Saintess right now, they would surely have leaped from their graves in a standing ovation, moved to tears by the discovery that pure reason had been here all along.
‘Tea... tea, green tea? It’s late, but yes. Caffeine doesn’t really matter to the two of us. Yes. Green tea and matcha. Strong.’
She tore open one green tea bag and two matcha bags and divided them between two large porcelain cups, which she had washed along with the dish earlier.
As she released Time Stop and slowly poured in hot water, the Saintess realized something keenly.
‘Ah. I see. S, so this was exactly why other people invested in cooking skills...’
That was not really the reason. Cooking was simply a lifestyle hobby and a craft.
But the Saintess’s overheated brain had already become rather unsuited for normal reasoning.
‘If I had opened a can of tuna and made canapes, that would have been much more... no, no. Then it really would have turned into a drinking session. Yes. Right. This is exactly appropriate as it is.’
Green tea ready. Stand by.
‘Sh, should I go?’
Stand by.
‘I have to go.’
Ready.
‘...Uuugh!’
With her eyes squeezed shut, she lifted the tray, loaded with drinking snacks and green tea, and finally launched from the kitchen into the living room.
The play began.
“...Have I kept you waiting?”
The voice that flowed from the Saintess’s mouth was extremely calm. Her expression was as blank as ever too.
The same went for the Undertaker. The moment he saw the Saintess, he quickly rose and approached her.
“Ah. Thank you. Please give that to me.”
“No. Please sit. Taking care of a guest is only natural.”
“Wow, there are so many snacks. All these precious things. As expected of you, Saintess. Could it be you knew I’d been drinking...?”
The Undertaker tried to take the serving tray from the Saintess, and the Saintess refused and stubbornly held on to it.
Naturally, the distance between them became awkward. The Undertaker’s hand touched the tray, and it lightly brushed the Saintess’s hand as well.
‘~~~~~!!’
The Saintess felt as if her head would melt.
Or rather, now that they were this close, it became clear. Just as she had suspected from the moment she saw him at the front door, the scent coming from the Undertaker’s body was slightly different from the smell of alcohol. There definitely had been alcohol. But that was not all.
It was perfume. She was not particularly knowledgeable about scent the way Dang Seo-rin or Yu Ji-won were, so she had no talent for commenting in detail about oud wood or anything like that, but it definitely had the feel of a jazz bar.
Subtle. Sweet. Deep.
‘So this wasn’t perfume he wore for Yu Ji-won...?’
Her chest tightened.
‘Why now, of all times?’
It was hard to breathe.
‘N, no. No. It doesn’t mean anything. Yes. Trying to infer someone’s intentions from perfume is the domain of mind-reading!’
The Saintess repeated Descartes in her mind.
‘I doubt, and I doubt the me who doubts, and I keep doubting even that doubting self...’
Apparently, she had forgotten for a moment that Rene Descartes had also been French, but well, all the Saintess needed was some kind of European-made mantra.
“My goodness.”
“Ah?”
Before she knew it, she was already sitting beside the Undertaker on the carpet, leaning her back against the sofa in complete comfort.
When had she sat down? She did not know. When had she placed the tray on the table? She did not know that either.
It was not her fault. The Saintess did not have [Complete Memory].
From across that distance, too vague to call far, yet also too ambiguous to call close, the Undertaker was smiling.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear properly. What did you just say, Mr. Undertaker?”
“No, I didn’t say anything. I just smiled. It’s only that bringing chopsticks even in a situation like this feels very much like you, Saintess.”
“...Your hands get dirty if you eat snacks with them.”
Thank goodness. So it had been nothing important.
The Saintess let out a sigh of relief inwardly.
Though even that sigh was no more than turning on a little handheld fan under the summer sun.
It was absurdly insufficient to cool the heat gathered in her heart and her head.
A parasol light enough to hold in one hand. Tree shade to drape over her head. A soft breeze along the riverside.
Even if every such way of escaping the heat had been laid out before her, it would have done little to help the Saintess now.
Her summer was sitting right in front of her.
“...”
The cry of cicadas.
Ever since childhood, Jeong Ye-ji had thought cicada cries were beautiful. That clamor, slicing from nearby into the distance, had always seemed to foretell her life in advance.
“Oh, right.”
As her head grew hot and her hearing blurred, only the beating of her heart became astonishingly clear, and that heartbeat sounded exactly like cicada cries.
“Today’s gathering ended safely. Cheon Yo-hwa and Lee Ha-yul went off to drink with a few others.”
“I’m glad to hear they’re doing well.”
“Come to think of it, you had plans to meet Dang Seo-rin today too, Mr. Undertaker...”
Sunlight. Deep blue shade. Echoes.
“Ah. Originally, I made plans to meet Dang Seo-rin because I had something to discuss with her privately.”
“Privately...”
“Yes. Saintess, so you really didn’t eavesdrop on our conversation at all? No wonder.”
“...”
His gaze. His speech. His voice. The firmness of the arm visible beneath his slightly loosened sleeve.
The chocolate snack dangling from those fingertips. The crunch as it broke between his teeth.
The chocolate melted and swallowed down with the matcha. The bob of his pale throat. Perfume. Skin scent.
“...”
The Saintess
stopped time.
And then, just a little, really only a little,
she moved.
Squirming, she lifted herself and shifted sideways. Three centimeters, maybe? Or perhaps five. At the speed of a falling cherry blossom petal. Only a little.
She moved her body toward the direction where the Undertaker sat. Narrowed the gap a little.
Time Stop, released.
“That’s right. I thought today was private time for the two of you, Mr. Undertaker and Dang Seo-rin.”
As if it were nothing.
“Today... you say.”
“Yes. Today.”
But unlike her, the Undertaker possessed flawless memory.
So whether it was three centimeters or five, even one centimeter, if the Saintess had suddenly moved closer, he could not possibly fail to notice.
No, had he noticed?
Had he not noticed?
If he had been drinking a little, then maybe moving about three centimeters closer was the sort of thing he might dismiss as his imagination. Maybe that was possible.
Then, in that case.
Time Stop.
Five centimeters more, again. A slight shift to the side.
Time Stop, released.
“But I feel sorry that my own consideration made you come all the way here, Mr. Undertaker.”
“...”
“If I had kept watching with [Clairvoyance], Mr. Undertaker, you could have requested [Telepathy] at any time. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
“No. Even if you had been watching today, I think I would have come in person.”
“Today, you mean?”
“Yes. Today.”
Still, there was no sign from the Undertaker. No sign at all that he had noticed the Saintess inching closer bit by bit. In that case.
Time Stop.
Five centimeters more, to the side.
Time Stop, released.
“Mm. Certainly. When you really needed to have a serious conversation, you preferred speaking face-to-face, Mr. Undertaker. Same with the study.”
“Yes. After all, there is a kind of atmosphere you can only feel when you’re directly facing the other person, isn’t there?”
“I agree completely.”
Excuse me, Mr. Undertaker?
I’ve already moved fifteen centimeters closer to you, Mr. Undertaker. You have it, don’t you. Complete Memory.
There’s no way you could not... know, right?
The truth is, you’ve already noticed, haven’t you?
‘Time Stop.’
Closer.
‘Time Stop.’
Closer still.
‘Time, stop.’
Closer again.
“...”
“...”
Tap.
The Undertaker’s shoulder and the Saintess’s shoulder touched. The Saintess tilted her shoulder away again, as if a little startled, but it did not mean much anyway.
The two of them were already so close that they could clearly hear each other breathing.
“...”
“...”
Time Stop.
The Saintess stopped time once more. And this time, although it might have looked strange, she moved the cups.
The porcelain cups. The porcelain cups filled with tea steeped from green tea and matcha together.
There was the Saintess’s cup, and there was the Undertaker’s cup. By chance, the two cups looked exactly the same. By chance, the level of green tea inside them was similar too.
The Saintess picked up her own cup and swapped it with the one in front of the Undertaker.
Exchange.
They looked exactly the same, and there was no outward difference. So even after time resumed, there was no possibility that the Undertaker would notice the exchange.
Time Stop, released.
“...”
“...”
They were close.
Suddenly, her throat felt dry.
The Saintess’s, and probably the Undertaker’s too.
So the Undertaker reached out, took hold of a cup, and drank the green tea.
The teacup in the Undertaker’s hand was not the one placed in front of him. It was the one in front of the Saintess, the cup the Saintess had just set there.
“...Ah.”
The Saintess made a sound. Perfectly ordinarily. In the same tone as always.
“Mr. Undertaker. That’s my cup.”
“Oh. Is that so?”
The Undertaker made a sound. Perfectly ordinarily. In the same tone as always.
“I’m sorry. Ah, maybe it’s because I drank a little earlier, but I got mixed up. I’m truly sorry.”
“No. It’s fine. You could make that mistake.”
“Thank you.”
Time Stop.
This time, the Saintess switched the positions of the cups once more. In other words, the teacup now placed in front of the Undertaker was the cup the Saintess had originally been drinking from.
Time Stop, released.
The Undertaker reached out once more. As if determined not to make the same mistake this time, he did not take the porcelain cup in front of the Saintess, but the porcelain cup in front of himself.
And drank. Gulp.
“...”
“...”
Clink.
The sound of the cup being set down.
Clasp.
The sound of a hand taking another hand.
Softly.
The sound of a head leaning against a head.
A kiss.
The sound of breathing.
“...”
In that first kiss,
there was a chocolate fragrance.
Footnotes:
[1] "Would you like some ramyeon before you go?" references a famous Korean euphemism for inviting someone to stay the night, popularized by the 2001 film One Fine Spring Day.
[2] The life-sized Gundam statue in Odaiba is a real landmark in Tokyo.
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