Chapter 93
Noxia, having changed into indoor clothes, came downstairs to the living room. As usual, she sat on the sofa and let her eyes rest on the neatly arranged food set on the dining table. As always, she felt indigestion even before taking a bite.
“Eat well, Hermane.”
Prometeon said gently. Noxia silently grasped her spoon. The corn soup he had carefully simmered was, as always, irritatingly delicious.
Noxia ate alone. Prometeon did not need to consume food.
It wasn’t that eating like other people would make him sick, nor would he starve if he didn’t eat. Since he no longer needed to keep up appearances in front of others, he had stopped making the effort.
In his previous life, when he pretended to be a capable servant of a powerful figure, and in this life, when he played the role of a noble young master, there had been many occasions when he had to sit at the same table as others and blend in without seeming out of place.
Each time, he smiled as if nothing were wrong, swallowed the food, and tasted it just like anyone else. Yet he did not die without nutrients, nor did he feel hunger.
If, while living with Noxia, she had wanted him to eat “normally” like other people, he would have willingly continued the act.
But somehow, he felt that if he did, she would silently glare at him with eyes that found him detestable.
In fact, she had never once offered him food, and Prometeon always silently prepared meals only for Noxia.
One person ate, one person watched, and in the silence between them, the fireplace crackled cheerfully.
After finishing even the bread and salad, Noxia rose without a word and went back upstairs. The one left behind quietly cleared the dishes.
Now Noxia would read for a while or stare blankly out the window before going to bed, and the man who called her by another name would wait all night for dawn to break.
And when today ended and tomorrow came, another day would repeat itself. Noxia would wake, wash, eat the breakfast Prometeon prepared, go to the teahouse to tend the shop, and return home in the evening.
And Prometeon would faithfully wait for her at home. No one told him to—he did so because he wanted to, as he had for a very long time.
It was merely the continuation of something he had repeated for over thousands of years.
Chapter 14. To You Whom I Loved
In this life, Prometeon was far more cautious. First of all, he never touched Hermane more than absolutely necessary.
Whenever the urge surged to grasp her soft chin and claim her sweet lips, he forced himself to endure it, recalling how she had rejected him last time.
Also, unlike in their previous life, he did not stop her from going outside freely. He earnestly hoped that the physical freedom she was allowed would somehow sustain her will to live.
If she lived without being confined as before, met other people often, and lived a relatively ordinary and peaceful life, perhaps she might learn happiness by his side.
‘…Even thinking like this is already wrong.’
Prometeon readily admitted it. To “allow” her the freedom she should naturally enjoy, as though granting a favor, and then presumptuously hope to become her happiness.
Yet though it was bitter, his guilt was faint, and he did not yet feel regret.
Noxia grieved that the six men who had kidnapped her died without receiving fair judgment under the law, but Prometeon did not repent in the slightest.
They were wretches who deserved to die. No—by his personal judgment, even that had been too comfortable a death. Had Noxia not pleaded, he would have given them far longer and more horrific suffering.
Burning those men and rescuing Noxia, and casting oblivion upon people so that they would not remember her—all of it had been for her sake.
Prometeon did not doubt his own intentions. Though he dimly recognized that his way of thinking was gradually breaking down, he did not think to correct it.
He had already lived this way for far too long. The loneliness he had endured was too long. He had long ago admitted that he was slightly mad. He was tired even of forcibly denying it.
Thus their life by the seaside continued.
One went to work at the shop each day, and the other repeatedly saw her off or welcomed her back, ensuring she lacked nothing while staying at home.
Prometeon rarely revealed himself in front of others. The house he had obtained was somewhat removed from the village, so there was no need to bother with neighbors.
When he went down to the village market to buy groceries, he deliberately altered his appearance before going out. He objectively knew that if he walked around in his original appearance, he would attract far too much attention.
If he were to walk around in his original form—a young man—and if Hermane were by his side, he wondered whether the villagers would assume they were husband and wife.
‘It wouldn’t be wrong.’
At least in Hermane’s first life, they had been husband and wife. Prometeon smiled wistfully as he recalled that time. It was a memory made sweeter for its sorrow.
He wondered whether Hermane also sometimes dwelled on those days, sinking into a complicated nostalgia, but Prometeon did not ask. He did not want to see her in pain.
In many ways, it was a cohabitation like walking on thin ice.
Even after someone’s life had been completely overturned, time flowed steadily, and the seasons turned indifferently. Before long, it was summer again.
Noxia pondered. Originally, she had planned to close the teahouse during summer, when tourists and vacationers flocked in great numbers.
From a financial standpoint, it would make more sense to work harder during the busy vacation season to increase sales. But since she did not need money, she questioned whether she should bother.
‘If there are too many people, it’s exhausting. It’s not like I’m doing this to make money anyway.’
In the end, she leaned toward closing during the holiday season. However, a few weeks before the vacation period began in earnest, she happened to converse with a regular customer.
“Thank you for the tea, owner.”
“Thank you. Please come again.”
“I will. It’s been a long time since I found a teahouse I like this much. Not just drinking tea, but being able to read and rest too—I’m really glad a place like this opened in our neighborhood.”
“Ha ha, thank you.”
“I’m especially relieved that there’s a place to rest quietly this summer. Every year, once it’s summer and vacation season starts, the town gets so noisy with outsiders coming in. So it feels a bit uncomfortable going to the big restaurants and teahouses in town around that time.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yes, it’s intense every year. But staying home all summer is stifling too… Anyway, I’m glad this teahouse opened, owner. Now there’s a quiet place to drink tea and rest, even during vacation season.”
Listening to the local chatter amicably, Noxia smiled outwardly while inwardly breaking into a cold sweat.
Relieved there was a quiet place to rest this summer? She had planned to close for the summer—what kind of expression would this person make upon learning that?
‘…Should I just ask for their memory of this teahouse to be erased?’
Startled by her own thought, Noxia felt a surge of self-loathing at how easily it had occurred to her.
‘When did I become this numb?’
Had the arrogant attitude of casually erasing others’ memories, altering their lives, and twisting relationships already seeped into her? Not even seeking the other person’s consent, relying solely on transcendent power for her own convenience.
‘Get a grip, Noxia Decan. I’m human. A human.’
She did not want to become like the ancient gods who regarded humans as well-trained dogs, cute rabbits, chess pieces, or insects. Nor did she want to resemble the pitiable Prometeon, who was neither god nor human.
Repenting for having so lightly contemplated erasing someone’s memory, Noxia gave the talkative regular a gentle smile.
“Thank you for thinking of it so kindly. Please come again.”
“Yes, I’ll see you again.”
That night, while eating dinner, Noxia spoke to Prometeon.
“I’m going to stay open through the summer.”
“Didn’t you say you were going to close for summer?”
Prometeon tilted his head. Noxia nodded.
“I was, but there are regulars who want me to stay open even during vacation season, so I can’t.”
As she explained, Prometeon’s expression became subtle. Noxia continued regardless.
“Thinking about it, I doubt there’ll be that many people anyway. Like that customer said, most vacationers from out of town flock toward the center of town. Our shop is on the outskirts… And the building isn’t that big, so the capacity isn’t large to begin with.”
Murmuring as if persuading herself rather than him, Noxia wore a thoughtful expression. Prometeon kept watching her.
“Of course, it’s not like customers won’t increase at all… The overall population coming into the village will rise… But it won’t make that much difference. Yes, it’ll be fine.”
After reaching her own conclusion from start to finish, Noxia lifted her head and looked straight at Prometeon. When their eyes met, he flinched slightly, though Noxia remained calm.
“Prometeon, would you consider working at the teahouse?”
“What?”
“Just for the summer—work as a server. I’ll introduce you to others as my cousin. If customers really do increase during vacation season, I think it’ll be hard for me to handle alone.”
Noxia’s tone was composed. Prometeon alone was flustered, staring at her with widened eyes. It was a rare moment when he lost his composure.
“Is it really all right for me to show myself in front of people? Truly?”
His voice trembled slightly. Noxia frowned faintly.
“Well, you’d probably have to change your appearance a bit. If you go out in your original form, you’ll attract too much attention.”
She did not say that out of any lingering desire to praise her former husband’s looks. Her assessment was close to objective judgment.
Even in her first life, he had stood out wherever he went.
At a time when the average human build was far smaller than now, he had broad shoulders, thick arms, and a towering height like a giant. Simply being in the same space naturally exuded intimidation.
As naturally large as his physique was, his strength was equally extraordinary, to the point that exaggerated—yet not entirely exaggerated—rumors spread that he could kill a wild beast with his bare hands.
Such physical power was why he had been revered as a hero in ancient times, when physical strength mattered most.
And because he stood by her side, even physically frail Hermane had been able to have her abilities and leadership fully acknowledged and reign as a king.
