Even just going to the plaza area, there were several luxurious taverns, but there weren’t many places where one could enjoy oneself comfortably. There was no way he would easily give up a place with good alcohol and a good atmosphere, and above all, where he could come and go anytime without being constrained by hours.
“It’s your turn.”
Another man across from them gestured at Calliope with his chin. As always, the gathered group held three or four cards in their hands, and quite a bit of gold was piled in the middle of the table.
“Join us next round.”
“I’m just going to drink today.”
Roman poured whiskey into an empty glass. The pleasure of sweeping up the pot was nice, but today he hadn’t come here for that purpose. He’d come here because he felt like he’d be uncharacteristically lonely if he drank alone.
The choice was excellent. The space mixed with the smell of cigarette herbs that were strong yet strangely addictive with added spices, expensive luminous stones illuminating the darkness instead of oil lamps here and there, and appropriate white noise made him feel languidly comfortable, like when soaking his body in a bathtub filled with hot water.
As Calliope said, it had been quite a while since he’d come here. Though Calliope didn’t know it, Roman actually visited this place whenever he was in low spirits. Since he wasn’t the type to dwell deeply on things even when something didn’t sit right or something unpleasant happened, his heart would lighten considerably after drinking delicious alcohol and exchanging silly jokes.
He’d deliberately come all the way here for that purpose today too, but the alcohol didn’t taste as good as he’d expected. Rather, before long, his head started to throb.
It was a bad sign. He didn’t know if it was a reaction to rarely having minor ailments, but once a headache started, it often developed into severe migraines.
He clicked his tongue thinking it was pointless to have come all the way here for this, when suddenly a clamorous noise burst out from the table. He saw the guy sitting on the left gleefully sweeping up the pot with a delighted face.
For a moment his headache seemed to worsen, and Roman pressed his fingertips firmly against his temple. It seemed better to go home at this point today, but all that would be waiting for him at home was dark silence.
‘…Maybe I should have just attended the ball.’
Then at least he would have had the fun of secretly watching Ireta looking around for him, and his uncle unable to scold his daughter but keeping his place with an uncomfortable expression.
And…
The image of Diego and the viscount’s daughter he’d seen at the ballroom entrance also came to mind. In the midst of this, the headache grew worse and worse, so Roman finally took out the pouch from inside his coat.
As he swallowed the white pill with water, the surroundings suddenly became quiet. The guys who’d been noisily chattering were all looking this way as if by agreement.
Their faces were uniformly filled with interest and curiosity. The person who spoke first was the man sitting to Calliope’s right.
“If it’s good stuff, share it with us.”
Roman easily understood what he meant and let out a snicker.
“It’s so precious, you see.”
It seemed they’d mistaken it for an aphrodisiac, but Roman had no particular interest in that direction. Of course, when he was younger, he occasionally enjoyed such things as long as they didn’t ruin his body, but after realizing that no drug could evoke as intense a pleasure as during the Bloody Cycle, he’d cleanly cut ties with them.
“I can give you as much money as you want.”
“Do you even know what this is?”
“What else. It’s that thing we’re all thinking of.”
Boisterous laughter burst out. Only Calliope shook his head, but he didn’t pointlessly interfere and ruin the mood. Roman spoke a word with a smile on his face.
“50 gold.”
“…!”
The man flinched at an amount far exceeding expectations. Roman thought he’d back down pathetically, but words different from his expectation flowed from the man’s mouth.
“…I’m a bit short on gold on hand. How about this instead?”
A ring that had been on his thick ring finger was placed on the table. Roman quietly shifted his gaze to look down at the ring. Though he had no talent for appraising jewels, at a glance it didn’t look cheap. Looking at the man again, Roman offered one last mercy.
“You won’t regret it?”
“Of course not.”
Clear, almost tangible desire was rippling on his greasy face. Roman shrugged his shoulders once and took out the small pouch from inside his coat.
“Don’t regret it.”
He added a final warning, but it was pointless. Roman looked with a pathetic expression at the guy hastily swallowing the pill, then stood up from his seat.
He heard footsteps quietly following behind. Thinking that this guy had absolutely no talent for tailing, Roman climbed the stairs leading to the first floor. When he sat down on an empty bar stool, Calliope soon took the seat next to him and spoke nonchalantly.
“What did you take?”
“Headache medicine.”
“There’s going to be quite a commotion.”
Whether that happened or not, it had nothing to do with Roman. It was the other guy who first misunderstood and proposed an absurd deal, and it was also the other guy who was given one more chance but in the end didn’t ask what kind of medicine it was. And from Roman’s perspective, there was naturally no reason for him to be kind enough to tell the idiot who assumed it was an aphrodisiac that it was actually headache medicine.
“Are you okay?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t look well. Is it because of the headache?”
It was as Calliope said. Even though it was an effective medicine personally prepared by the imperial pharmacist, the headache didn’t completely subside. Roman wordlessly swallowed another pill. He remembered being earnestly advised to definitely take only one pill at a time because it was strong medicine, but as always, he cleanly erased it from his mind.
At some point, he could feel people’s glances sneaking looks this way. It wasn’t anything new. Calliope was a man who boasted a flashy appearance no less than Roman. Naturally attracting attention even when alone was a dominant trait, so it would be strange if gazes didn’t pour in when not one but two of them were sitting side by side.
Still, perhaps because this wasn’t a tavern on Lovers’ Lane, there were no people blatantly staring or boldly approaching. Moreover, Roman wasn’t the type to be conscious of others’ gazes, so he calmly tilted his beer glass.
“Why did you follow me out?”
“I have something to say.”
“Say it.”
Calliope smiled bitterly and moved his lips.
“…The wedding date has been set.”
“Congratulations.”
It was such an utterly indifferent congratulation that for a moment he wondered ‘Did I already mention this?’ Calliope looked at Roman with a furrowed brow.
“That’s it?”
“What else.”
“Aren’t you curious who the other person is, or how it came about?”
“You’ll spill it all on your own even if I don’t ask.”
It was an irrefutable statement. Calliope shook his head and tilted his portion of the drink. Then he belatedly added a word.
“She’s the daughter of Viscount Iker’s family.”
This time even Roman was slightly surprised.
It was true that individual traits were increasingly being valued as much as titles and status, but that didn’t mean customs that had supported society for hundreds of years would change overnight. Everyone treated people like accessories and kept those with dominant traits by their side, yet when someone actually announced they would take a commoner as their partner, the gossip and sneering in social circles wouldn’t stop for days on end.
Calliope sitting next to him right now was also of commoner origin. His father was a major gem merchant, so he had so much money it was rotting away, but what that money couldn’t buy was precisely a noble title. Thanks to this, it was easy to grasp the situation.
‘…I guess their interests aligned perfectly.’
Marriage being used as a political tool or a pact between families was so common there was no need to find it novel. Even so, it was surprising that Viscount Iker had decided to give his daughter to Calliope.
“They made a big decision.”
Calliope smiled bitterly and tilted his glass repeatedly. Since it was true, there was nothing to be particularly hurt about. Nevertheless, he swallowed down the emotion that was difficult to define with a mouthful of alcohol and deliberately joked with a smiling face.
“Don’t you find it regrettable?”
“What?”
“Me. If you hold onto me, I’m willing to break off the engagement even now.”
“As soon as you bring it up, you’d get thoroughly beaten by your father and beg for forgiveness. Do you think I’d accept a guy like that?”
“…How cold.”
There was a time when Calliope had harbored feelings for Roman. He was a person who possessed the freewheeling nature that Calliope himself didn’t have. Unlike himself, who could only vent his rebellion against a life bound by family through money, Roman’s appearance of living as he pleased without caring about anyone’s opinion was deeply enviable.
And because Roman had noticed early on the true nature of the feelings Calliope held—that it was more fantasy about what he lacked rather than sexual attraction—the two of them had been getting along well as friends who could meet comfortably even now.
Roman didn’t spare his candid words regardless of who the other person was, but in this situation, he didn’t disparage Calliope’s decision as cowardly or say hurtful things. This was because he knew that everyone’s circumstances and the factors they prioritized were different.
