Chapter 44
Is This a Date? (2)
“I’ve never had something like this before. It’s so good.”
With a genuinely delighted voice, I answered and finished off not only my own chicken skewer but even the one Rudolph had been eating.
It wasn’t because I was a glutton or had a huge appetite.
“Jina, try this too. It’s really tasty!”
“Oh, okay. But let me digest first—”
“This one’s a fruit skewer! They said it tastes even better than meat.”
“Okay, okay. But my hands are kind of—”
“This is a drink!!”
After that, Rudolph started buying every festival food in sight and shoving it into my mouth.
“Is it good?”
He didn’t forget to check between bites if I was enjoying it.
Sure, going out usually means eating a lot, but this was over the top.
“Jina! This is candy!”
Seeing Rudolph running from afar holding cotton candy as big as his face, I was starting to get scared.
This guy’s trying to burst my stomach and kill me.
I couldn’t take it anymore, so I stood in his way.
“Rudolph.”
“Yeah?”
Watching Rudolph tear off a piece of cotton candy and pop it into his mouth, I felt both impressed and terrified.
“I’m done eating.”
“Really? Then what do you want to do now?”
At my sincere plea, Rudolph nodded immediately.
He said it’d be a waste to throw the food away, so he handed it out to the kids nearby and kept the cotton candy for himself.
“Is it good?”
“It’s sweet.”
Rudolph calmly answered as he savored the cotton candy.
Come to think of it, did he like sweets in the original story?
I couldn’t remember. Maybe it was never mentioned.
One thing was certain, though: I didn’t know anything about Rudolph’s likes or dislikes.
We had talked about many things so far, but never once about his preferences.
Because Rudolph’s only standard had always been me.
“Do you like sweets?”
“I don’t dislike them.”
“What about spicy food?”
“Depends on the level, but I don’t hate it.”
“…Do you even have anything you like?”
Rudolph, who had been answering all my questions indifferently, smiled at the last one.
“You.”
…Of course you do.
After finishing the cotton candy, Rudolph snapped the leftover stick into pieces and let it scatter in the air, then took my hand.
“More importantly, where do you want to go next? Anything you haven’t tried yet?”
“Not me! You!”
Rudolph looked puzzled at my outburst.
“Don’t you have anything you want to do?”
“…I want to do whatever Jina wants to do.”
He gave the same answer he always did.
And I couldn’t say I didn’t understand him.
Rudolph’s past had been almost as lonely as mine.
His mother had been a young prostitute.
To a girl like that, a child was nothing more than a leech sucking money.
So it wasn’t entirely surprising that she abandoned him.
If only the orphanage that took him in hadn’t been a gang hideout disguised as a charity.
Tragically, Rudolph faced death multiple times in that place.
Luckily, his natural talent was so extraordinary that the former Tower Master took him in—but even that might’ve been a curse.
The previous Tower Master was quite the lunatic himself, and he subjected young Rudolph to all sorts of trials that couldn’t even be called lessons.
Amid all that suffering, young Rudolph learned to hide his emotions to protect himself.
Joy, sadness, likes, dislikes—he suppressed them all.
As a soulless weapon, he began to sacrifice himself to the Tower.
He fought in many wars.
Entire small nations were destroyed at the hands of a ten-year-old.
But Rudolph felt no guilt.
And what’s left now… is the Rudolph in front of me.
Besides what I taught him—”like” and “dislike”—he seemed to still know nothing.
“Then let’s find something you like today.”
“But I already like something.”
“Not me. Not things I suggest or things related to me. Let’s find something you like.”
Rudolph tilted his head as if he didn’t understand.
“Look, Rudolph. There are different kinds of ‘like.’”
“What kind of ‘like’ is it when I like you?”
“Hmm. I’m not sure. It’s your feeling, not mine. But you know, don’t you? What kind of feeling is it when you say you like me?”
Rudolph smiled softly, placing a hand on his chest.
“Before, just thinking about you made me annoyed and confused. But after you taught me, it feels warm here.”
Then he took my hand with his other one and slowly closed his eyes.
“Isn’t this… love?”
Hearing that, with his cheeks slightly red, made my heart race.
There really are countless ways to make someone fall for you—my heart might not survive this.
“Sure. If that’s what you think, then maybe it is. But what I’m saying is, ‘like’ doesn’t just mean love. There are other types.”
Still not getting it, I tugged on Rudolph’s arm and dragged him toward a nearby street performance.
“What about music? Doesn’t listening to nice sounds make you feel good?”
“I like your voice more. I want to hear you talking more.”
I pointed at the dancers, visited snack stalls with sweet and salty foods—same answer every time.
“If you don’t like fun, what about jewels? You don’t hate money, right?”
“What are you talking about? I’ve got so much money.”
Every time he snapped his fingers, gold coins shot out—what a headache.
Wait, aren’t those counterfeit? Or does magic make them real?
My stomach started growling again, so I bought some grilled squid with butter nearby.
Now that I thought about it, why do these foods feel so familiar?
Ah, maybe because the author’s Korean.
Makes sense.
Satisfied with my internal explanation, I tore off a squid leg and handed it to Rudolph.
“Is there any food you actually like?”
With a tired voice, I asked, and Rudolph shook his head.
“I like whatever you eat—”
“Okay, that’s enough!”
I got up. If he doesn’t like food, play, possessions, or sightseeing, then it’s time to trigger instinct.
He claimed he didn’t understand emotions or preferences, so now I had to ask his instincts directly.
The sun had set, but drinking and dancing only truly begin at night.
“Let’s go get a drink.”
Alcohol. Booze.
Even in my past life, the one thing I consistently loved was alcohol.
I’d mix Korean drinks, try foreign ones—I enjoyed them all.
And alcohol often brings out unexpected sides of people.
Odelia’s body couldn’t handle alcohol too well, so I wouldn’t drink much. But a low-alcohol drink should be fine.
The guy selling grilled squid recommended a bar called “Cream,” supposedly the most popular in town.
Maybe it was because of the upcoming festival, or maybe it was always this lively, but the place was bustling.
People were drinking straight from beer bottles, clinking small glasses, even slamming big wooden kegs together.
The festive vibe was exciting, and I felt the thrill rise inside me.
“Jina, you don’t handle alcohol well.”
As I browsed the menu, Rudolph wrapped his arm around my waist and reminded me.
He must’ve remembered me passing out after a single drink at the Starwood mansion.
“That drink was super strong. I like drinking.”
“You do?”
“Yep! I even know how to make soju-beer cocktails!”
When I offered to mix one for him, Rudolph sighed, clearly confused.
“If I pass out, carry me to the room. Oh, and I’m weak now, so recommend something light.”
“You could just not drink.”
“No! We have to drink! Even if I don’t, you need to!”
With the help of a server, we ordered the strongest and weakest drinks.
Rudolph’s drink looked like dark whiskey—definitely strong.
Mine was a pink drink with a sweet floral aroma.
“Yours looks super sweet.”
“And yours looks deadly strong.”
While I fidgeted with my glass, Rudolph drained his and refilled it.
“How is it? Do you feel tipsy?”
“No.”
Even after downing liquor so strong it surprised the bartender, Rudolph seemed unaffected.
After a while, and after he emptied the whole bottle—
“You—are ya drunk?”
“Aww, Jina, you’re so cute when you’re drunk—”
My vision started swimming.
“Od-delia’s body can’t… hold her liquor—”
“Haha, yeah. You’re adorable, Jina.”
As Rudolph affectionately stroked my hair, everything started blurring—one, two, three—
“Don’t touch my head, you punk…”
“Huh?”
“…You brat!”
Then my head slammed onto the table.
***
“Mmm—”
When I came to, I was in a quiet room.
I was still tipsy, and my head was spinning, but not so much that I couldn’t recognize the man holding me.
“Um, Rudolph?”
“What is it, Jina?”
“You jerk… Who said you could come into my room?”
Rudolph shamelessly hugged me tighter and answered.
“Drunk Jina told me not to leave. Here’s the proof.”
He showed me his wrinkled shirt, probably from my desperate grip, and chuckled.
I used to cling to people when drunk in my past
