TMBIPYMEN Chapter 9

The dining hall was just as crowded, but fortunately there were seats available since it wasn't peak hours.

Yustar insisted on paying extra for a small private room that was practically a storage closet, and only after the staff member closed the door and left did Layla realize he'd done it for her sake.

"You should at least be comfortable during meals. Take off your hood."

Yustar said, and Layla stared at the closed door for a moment before finally removing her hood. The table was low and not particularly clean, but compared to the room they'd just seen, it felt almost cozy.

'At least there are no spiders,' Layla thought.

"Do you have any favorite foods?"

When Yustar asked, Laila shook her head as if wondering what kind of strange question that was. He rang the bell to call the server again. The door opened slightly, and the server poked their face through the gap.

"Today's soup and dinner menu. No alcohol—instead, bring two glasses of fruit drinks or something with clean water."

Layla worried the server might fling the door wide open any moment, exposing her to everyone in the main hall, but fortunately that didn't happen.

The server quickly jotted down Yustar's order on a small slip of paper and disappeared, shutting the door with a rather unfriendly thunk.

"People who rent these rooms are usually making shady deals. They don't want to get involved."

Yustar offered an explanation. Layla understood his reasoning, but she briefly wondered whether she should clarify that she hadn't taken offense at the server's attitude in the first place—or if she should just let it go.

Once the small private room was separated from the outside noise, Layla finally had the leisure to organize a few thoughts.

Most were curiosities about what would become of her from now on. It was the first time since birth she'd been curious about the future, which felt both fresh and vague.

Yustar also seemed lost in thought, but Layla had absolutely no way of peering into his head.

The food arrived quickly. It seemed they made it in bulk and reheated portions as needed—the bread didn't look particularly fresh, and the chunks in the soup were mushy and falling apart.

Still, Layla felt a violent hunger rise the moment she caught the food's scent.

"It's been so long since I've seen food like this."

At Layla's words, Yustar glanced up from tasting a spoonful of soup.

To keep his long hair from falling into his bowl, he'd rolled the entire mass into a bun and secured it to the back of his head. Without the long hair constantly visible, his appearance looked quite different.

After a brief pause for thought, Yustar spoke.

"What exactly do you mean by 'food like this'? Are you talking about meat dishes?"

"Yes, exactly. Meat dishes. When Mother was alive, she'd sometimes catch rabbits or wood pigeons and cook them, but I was never good at hunting."

In truth, it was less about hunting and more about the difficulty of catching and preparing the animals, but she deliberately omitted that part.

Somehow it felt inappropriate for a witch's daughter to say. But Yustar looked amused by her words.

"So you survived entirely on herb soup, pumpkins and carrots from your garden, and lettuce? Along with bread you baked yourself?"

Layla felt he was teasing her. But it wasn't to the point of being unpleasant... She wanted to respond with something clever, but knowing she lacked that kind of eloquence, she answered honestly.

"In autumn I sometimes caught fish too. You know, in that forest where we met. There's a small valley beyond it."

"Surprising. You can't hunt but you know how to fish?"

"It's simple if you set fish traps."

Yustar nodded.

"Fish traps—I've heard of them. Never actually seen one though. Fish can get in but can't get out, right? I understand the principle, but it's fascinating every time I hear about it."

Layla stared at Yustar with a somewhat puzzled expression.

"What exactly... are you?"

Yustar, who'd been tearing bread to dip in the meat dish's sauce, tilted his head.

"Didn't I explain?"

"That you're a knight affiliated with Tentinella, I know that much. But..."

As Layla's words trailed off, Yustar smiled faintly with that characteristic expression devoid of malice.

"You think I'm hiding something. Don't you?"

Layla didn't answer. She did think so, but acknowledging it outright made a strange feeling wash over her.

Was she interrogating him unfairly? Was she deliberately choosing an uncomfortable path? Guilt and awkwardness without any basis pricked at her mouth like a canker sore.

I shouldn't pry any further. Layla thought. It wasn't really a thought—it felt more like some presence within her was applying pressure. She was curious about him, but it didn't seem like the right time to know yet. So she should wait...

Wait? Until when? And why?

Layla spoke abruptly.

"You seem a bit strange. Is that rude to say?"

A more subtle smile appeared at Yustar's lips.

"It would depend on the person. But it's fine with me. Though I'm curious—strange how, exactly?"

While thinking of how to answer, Layla pressed lightly at the meat dish with her fork tip, unable to tell if it was pork or beef.

Looking closer, the plate was chipped on one side, and the fork's plating had completely peeled away, leaving it covered in scratches. Somehow the sight seemed to resemble her own ambiguous self, giving her an altogether unpleasant feeling.

Layla said,

"It's hard to explain. How should I put it... You seem to scatter my thoughts. No, you do scatter them. I can feel it clearly."

Yustar's expression grew even more peculiar. Now he looked like a pantomime actor who couldn't decide whether to laugh aloud or put on a serious, grave expression.

Wondering how to perform the next act to completely fool the audience...

"That sounds like something people in love often say."

A hint of playfulness colored the end of his low voice. Despite this, his tone was sufficiently charming—if Layla had been a slightly more ordinary young woman, it would have been enough to make her blush momentarily.

But instead of reddening her cheeks, Layla simply stared blankly at Yustar. Yustar smiled awkwardly and took a sip of his drink. It seemed he'd only made a show of squeezing in lemon, as the taste wasn't particularly appealing.

"That was a joke. Those aren't the eyes of someone in love. Not from any angle."

Layla responded immediately.

"Joke or not, it doesn't matter. I was told someone like me can't fall in love anyway."

"Who told you that?"

"My mother."

Having cut off her words as cleanly as sharp scissors through fabric, she also took a sip of her drink. The taste didn't appeal to her either.

Yustar now forgot about eating entirely and propped his chin on his hand, staring at Layla with an intrigued expression.

"What kind of person are you, exactly? Layla."

"Surely you're not asking because you don't know."

"No, I'm really asking because I don't know."

Layla's hand holding the fork moved slightly. The fork that had been shifting as if to pick up an overcooked, mushy potato stopped at the plate's edge with a tink.

"Witches. Witches don't need to fall in love, so they can't love."

Then suddenly, laughter rang out. Yustar had laughed.

"Is that really so funny?"

"Well. Don't need to fall in love, so can't love... If what your mother said is true, how were you born?"

Layla spoke with a serious expression.

"She said love isn't necessary for reproductive activity. I agree with that. Though I don't really know much about it."

"Well, that's an interestingly blunt way to put it. I agree that love isn't necessary. I've heard that's how witches continued their bloodlines. But that doesn't mean they can't love. The two aren't synonymous."

At the end of his words, his eyes crinkled slightly. Layla found one more curious point in Yustar's statement, but it didn't seem necessary to ask about it right now, so she kept quiet.

After finishing their meal, the two walked briefly through the streets as evening crowds began gathering, then soon returned to the inn.

Though her aching feet had improved somewhat, Layla finally realized that a full stomach didn't necessarily relieve fatigue. If anything, the heaviness in her body made her feel even more tired. Moreover, she had another problem.

"Layla, what's wrong? Are you all right?"

Yustar, who'd been carefully watching Layla lower her hooded head further and further, supported her and asked. Layla looked at the black, opaque shadows glimpsed between people, then lowered her gaze again.

Some of them passed by without noticing her, but others came right up to Layla's face.

A man with only one eye remaining—swollen so large it took up half his face—was following her with a persistent gaze, so she really didn't want to lift her head.

Layla forced down the rising nausea and whispered quietly.

"...There are too many. Don't you feel them?"

"Ah, the ghosts? I feel them. Being next to you makes them even clearer than usual... I can see them too. But since I'm not wearing the monocle, they're not that vivid. Is it very difficult? Should I carry you to the inn?"

Layla shook her head. The motion nearly dislodged her hood, but she quickly caught it.

"I'm fine. I think I can just walk like this. But beside me..."

At that moment, the man who'd been following Layla thrust his single remaining eye up under her face. Layla involuntarily swallowed her breath and stopped in her tracks.

The swollen eyeball rolled around. Squelch. And it stared directly at Layla's face. It opened its mouth as if trying to say something, and through the gaping hole of its pitch-black mouth, she could see it was packed full of half-rotted fish.

Just before a scream could burst from Layla's mouth, Yustar's voice came.

"Excuse me."

In that instant, Layla's toes left the ground.