Chapter 64

Before he knew it, the sleet mixed with snow had subsided.

Through the gaps in the thick clouds, the faint rays of the setting sun began to shine, illuminating the interior of the izakaya with the soft light of late autumn.

Rodrigo slowly took a seat next to Ingrid. The counter of the izakaya Nobu, where they sat alone, was neatly cleaned, yet for some reason, it reminded him of the cluttered taverns of the Holy Capital from decades ago.

"Back then, we were always broke and only drank watered-down liquor at cheap bars."

"But you, Rodrigo, always drank milk."

It seemed Ingrid was also reminiscing about those times.

"That's all in the past. I've grown taller, you know."

The distilled liquor made from the residue after pressing wine was a friend to poor student monks. Because of its high original alcohol content, it could still get you drunk even when diluted with water. Since it wasn't officially distributed, it had the advantage of being easy to deny if someone criticized you for drinking. It was all good.

Rodrigo and Ingrid were somewhat well-known even among the delinquent student monks.

"That time, after our senior left, Etvin paid off all our tabs."

"Really? That Etvin? I remember him as a senior with long hair and even longer sermons, but he had his good points."

"He was a serious person. I wonder where he is now."

"I saw someone who looked like him in the ancient capital once. But he can't still be a deacon, so it was probably a mistake."

"He's not a deacon. He's Cardinal Hylhitegott's right-hand man."

"True. Anyway, it's nice of someone to treat us without any ulterior motives."

"In return, I had to help with his research. A lot."

He said "I" and then covered his mouth, realizing his mistake. As the Metropolitan Archbishop, Rodrigo should not be referred to as "I."

However, Ingrid didn't seem to mind. Her smile suggested she had noticed but didn't intend to tease him.

Immersed in the nostalgic atmosphere of the izakaya, they were no longer the witch and the cardinal but "senior and I" from those days.

The faint feelings from back then resurfaced, and he took a deep breath. He no longer had the right to feel that way.

His glass was empty, and they both moved on to their second.

The more they savored the soft atmosphere and nostalgic silence, the more the grain of guilt in Rodrigo's heart began to grow.

He needed to apologize to Ingrid.

Not just as a Metropolitan Archbishop, but as Rodrigo. For this time, and for that time.

"Senior..."

Determined, Rodrigo began, but Ingrid laughed and waved her hand to stop him.

"Rodrigo, let's save the bitter talk for another time."

Ingrid, sipping her lager with a smile, looked just as she did back then. She had aged beautifully rather than just grown old. Rodrigo felt a strange sense of wonder at how time could pass in such a way.

"Senior, how about we change places?"

"Change places?"

"Yes, the dining room of the inn where I'm staying is quite good for an ancient capital establishment. It has an Eastern Kingdom menu. The fish isn't great because it's inland, but the meat is delicious."

"Really?"

Back then, they only talked about wanting to eat at good places and have good food.

After Ingrid left the Holy Kingdom, Rodrigo studied hard and eventually reached a respectable position. He received a stipend that people envied, but he always felt unsatisfied because he ate alone.

Eating with Ingrid, he felt, would finally satisfy his hunger.

"But I like it here, Rodrigo."

"What do you mean, Senior?"

"The atmosphere here is similar to those days. Plus, the food here is delicious."

Rodrigo couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at Ingrid's unexpected words.

Could that be true? This place, on the outskirts of the ancient capital, was not the kind of location where you'd expect decent food.

He wondered if she was teasing him, but Ingrid showed no signs of it. She just sipped her lager contentedly.

"Shinobu, bring us some delicious appetizers."

"Sure, I'll do that!"

The server, called Shinobu, responded enthusiastically.

There was no point in complaining about what had been ordered. The food might not suit Rodrigo's refined palate, but it was Ingrid's recommendation. Pretending to enjoy cheap appetizers as if he had returned to his poor student monk days could be fun.

Besides, he was so happy to see someone he had been searching for so long that he was sure everything would taste delicious.

The mushroom incident.

The only clue he had was that Ingrid, who had left the Holy Capital to protect Rodrigo from his major blunder, was somewhere practicing witchcraft. He had initially thought it would be easy to find her, but it had taken so long. Still, he was no less happy.

This was a good omen.

He had lost his financial backer, Baxeshof, but the energy to fight the cardinal election was welling up inside him.

Reuniting with someone he had searched for so long meant his luck was turning. There must be some kind of premonition in God's plan.

This encounter would be the signal for Rodrigo to launch his counterattack after years of lying low.

He would become a cardinal, return to the Holy Kingdom, and lead the classical revivalists to challenge Hylhitegott's reformists.

"Here you go!"

The plate Shinobu brought was filled with a familiar dish.

"Clams (Vongole)."

The name slipped out of his mouth out of nostalgia. Clams were a staple for poor student monks.

In the Holy Kingdom, with its many coastlines, clams were abundant. During the peak season, you could fill a bucket in no time by raking the sandy beach.

Student monks would claim they were going out to ponder by the sea, gather a bucket of clams, and sell them to bars for a pittance. Instead of money, they asked for alcohol. A bucket of clams would turn into a few glasses of wine, fueling their discussions and debates. The appetizer, of course, was the clams themselves.

Nostalgic.

Back then, he had eaten so many clams that he never wanted to see them again, but now he found them incredibly nostalgic.

Unlike Ingrid, who was from the Empire, Rodrigo was from the seaside of the Imperial Kingdom.

Since his appointment as Metropolitan Archbishop, he had been eating mostly inland food, so seeing clams brought back memories of home.

Still, clams weren't particularly delicious.

That was Rodrigo's conclusion after trying every possible clam dish.

There might be a way to make them taste good if they were fresh, but that was unlikely in the inland ancient capital.

Turning them into pasta might make them more enjoyable, but no bar in the northern border of the Empire would stock pasta from the Holy Kingdom.

"These look delicious. Can we have some Atsukan?"

"Sure, Atsukan it is."

"I'll take two small glasses."

The Atsukan Ingrid ordered was probably a brand of alcohol. For shellfish, it might be white wine.

While the Empire's wineries were not as good as those in the Eastern Kingdom or the Holy Kingdom, Ingrid might know a good, affordable brand.

It was nice to indulge in such whims.

For Rodrigo, who was tired of gourmet food, it was even refreshing.

Using nostalgia as a seasoning, he ate the cheap shellfish dish and got drunk on the wine, which was only good for its price and quantity.

It was unbecoming of a clergyman, but on the other hand, it might be the last time he could enjoy such frivolity.

If he became a cardinal and returned to the Holy Capital, he wouldn't be able to indulge in such foolishness.

"Let's toast again."

However, the drink Ingrid offered was clearly not white wine.

The alcohol poured into the small earthenware cup was colorless and transparent, with a scent of alcohol.

The familiar aroma made Rodrigo realize it was the clams.

He had been wondering what the unfamiliar smell was, but it was from the drink.

"To your health."

"To your health."

Taking a sip, he felt a tingling sensation. This drink was meant to be savored through the nose and throat. Indeed, the small cup was appropriate. It was a new drink, but it tasted and smelled good.

If he overindulged in its richness, he would get drunk quickly. Such drinks should be sipped slowly.

He couldn't help but smile, realizing he had become knowledgeable about alcohol. The last time he sat next to Ingrid, he only drank milk.

While thinking about this, he started on the steamed clams.

He didn't care about etiquette. As just Rodrigo, not the Metropolitan Archbishop, he enjoyed the aroma of the steam and picked up a large clam with its shell, bringing it to his mouth.

It was hot and delicious.

The flavor was concentrated, and there was no fishy smell.

Before he could fully savor it, his hand reached for the next clam.

Slurp,

Slurp.

He used his teeth to scrape the stubborn clam meat and kept putting clams in his mouth.

The Atsukan was also good.

It would probably be delicious with white wine, but in this setting, it was the Atsukan.

Looking at Ingrid, he saw she was also piling up shells on her empty plate.

As they continued eating, he could feel a warm sensation rising from his stomach, probably due to the alcohol.

It was a sensation he could never experience with cold gourmet food. He was grateful that Ingrid had recommended this.

Feeling like he had become ten or twenty years younger, Rodrigo finished all the clams.

It was unusual for him, who usually ordered more food than he could eat to show his wealth, to finish everything.

"Pretty good, right? I didn't expect to find such delicious clams in the ancient capital."

Wiping his sweat with a towel, Rodrigo smiled.

The izakaya Nobu was a great place. Thanks to this place, he had reunited with Ingrid.

The recent abdominal pain and anemia that had been troubling him seemed to have disappeared.

He was about to ask Shinobu for some hot wine, taking out his cup as usual, when Ingrid stopped him.

"That cup looks a bit unusual, doesn't it?"

"Oh, you noticed. It was a gift from a man named Damian. The decoration is in an ancient style, and it suits my taste. When I drink cheap wine from it, it becomes smooth and sweet."

"I see."

She examined the cup for a while, then sighed and handed it to Shinobu as if discarding it.

"Shinobu, please dispose of this cup. Make sure no one picks it up."

"Ingrid, what's going on?"

"And Rodrigo, politics isn't for you. Don't aim too high. It's better to quit while you're ahead."

Stunned, Rodrigo watched as Shinobu, who had been examining the cup, gasped.

"This cup has lead lining on the inside... It's definitely not safe to use."

"What do you mean?"

Ingrid explained.

"If you keep drinking wine from this cup, the lead will react with the wine and dissolve. Over time, it will erode your body."

Now that he thought about it, it made sense. The abdominal pain and anemia started when he began using this cup for his after-dinner wine. He also felt more depressed around the same time.

"In the worst case, it could be fatal."

Assassination.

The word flashed through his mind.

Was it Damian who sent it, or someone pulling the strings behind him? Either way, if he had continued using the cup...

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

"People have their strengths and weaknesses. Rodrigo, aiming for cardinal might not be the best choice. You might have a better retirement if you retire to a monastery somewhere."

Ingrid's eyes, which still shone with wisdom despite her age, were the same as when he was a young student monk and had a crush on her.

As Ingrid ordered another Atsukan, Rodrigo quietly wondered why he, and not Ingrid, had left the Holy Capital back then.