Chapter 25 — The Sorcerer, The Priest, And The Nun (3)

“Well then, Big Bro, please take it first.”
“This is the wine you sent over to me before, isn’t it? It’s only now that I’m getting to try it. Its energy does seem to have shifted quite a bit, though.”

The gathering to mark the Gyeongdo dispatch had first been meant for some later day, when there was a little more room to spare.
Really it was to be a party celebrating how much closer the three of them had grown now that Shin Hweein’s identity was out.

But word came that Shin Hweein would soon have to enter Gyeongbokgung, and Yun Jubaek happened to mention he had something he needed to pass along, so the gathering was thrown together in a hurry.

Mochizuki Makoto had travelled with them the whole way.
For a brief moment someone had wondered whether, if Yun Jubaek made the cut, this fellow might count too.
But Makoto was struck off the list, having lost a great heap of points over the Shinhwa business.
And even if they had let him in on the drinking, he was tied up just now with Hwa-guk’s Onmyo Bureau and could not have come regardless.

“Have a look at the priest first, and if you really can’t stand it, just turn him away.”

To keep out of sight of Sister Barbara and Do Yumi, which would only have invited trouble, the three of them had gathered in secret, the door locked and a barrier drawn over it besides.
There was no escaping Geum Moa, of course, but since she too was keeping watch for Sister Barbara and Do Yumi, on this occasion she was a help.
The one small problem was that she sat beside Shin Hweein, eyeing his bottle of wine with an unmistakably covetous look.

“No, I have already made up my mind to accept it. Even if the energy of devils has been mingled into it, if that is for the sake of binding my friendship with Brother more firmly, I shall bear it. This too is the Lord’s will, that He should test our friendship.”
“This priest, I rather think, is just hopelessly fond of his drink… oho.”

Yun Jubaek had been on the verge of saying something when the explosive fragrance pouring from the mouth of the clear-wine bottle caught him, and a sound of admiration slipped out.

“The scent alone is enough to get a man drunk. This is jamuju, isn’t it? Just how many years has it been aged?”
“They said it was made on the day I was born, so it must be eighteen.”
“Jamuju aged eighteen years smells this fine, does it…. From what I’d heard, they don’t make a line that keeps past ten years, because it’s too troublesome to manage.”
“I am told that when a child is born to the Shin family, a small cask’s worth of jamuju is brewed and set apart to be aged. As more than a single bottle must have come of it, the rest may yet be in my father’s keeping.”
“The Yun house ought to do the same sort of thing. My father’s got no sense for these matters.”

Bottle in hand, Yun Jubaek poured wine into Shin Hweein’s cup.
And in the pouring he must have felt his own energy flowing out of him and into the bottle, for he let out another oho.

“This is a sorcery, isn’t it?”
“You will not be the worse for it.”
“For my part, naturally, it’s an absolute boon.”

Taking the bottle back, Shin Hweein first stoppered it, then lifted his cup.
By the nature of this wine, only one person at a time could trade cups with him, and so Father Lucas had no choice but to pour himself a different sort of drink.

The two of them cradled the rising fragrance of their cups beneath quietly closed eyes and breathed it in through their noses.
Father Lucas, meanwhile, his face a study in impatience, all but begged them to empty their cups quickly and give him some of the wine too.

“May Saint Martin of Tours watch over us today¹.”
“Is he the patron saint of friendship?”
“No, he is the patron saint of alcoholics. As a bonus, he is also the patron saint of brewers.”

The three of them clinked their cups and tossed back the wine.

What he felt first was a deeper flavour, unlike any time before.
It was certainly the same wine, and once bottled it ought no longer to age.
Yet with the spiritual energies of various people steeped into it, its fragrance had grown all the richer, all the more singular.

When he had first tasted it, it had seemed only strong and fragrant, a drink and no more.
Now, on the third drinking, he could already enjoy a little of the wine itself, which struck him, privately, as amusing.

But the true worth of this wine is not in that.

This wine was a spiritual elixir.
And not the sort that merely piled on more energy than the body could bear and bulked it up.
It was one that improved the body and strengthened the mind.

The Purple Mist Wine he was drinking after so long showed its effect exactly as Shin Hweein had hoped.
The countless yokai he had met in Gyeongdo, and above all the traces left in his body, knowingly or not, by contact with the yokai aura of Honwondorae’s overseer.
Further, all the ill effects of Ushi-gozen’s yokai aura, which had transformed his very flesh, were now swept clean away, and a fresh, pure vital essence breathed in their place.

The new energy held in this round’s cup was Geum Moa’s in particular.
A fierce, ardent energy, more unmistakable than any time he had drunk it before, coursed through every corner of his body and filled him with new strength.

Ah…

The Geum Moa who attended at his side now was in the state the Three-Year Pact restrained her to, yet the power held in this cup was Geum Moa’s in full.
How vast it was, how mighty a yokai she was.
Only now could he truly feel it.

The arts of concealment and transformation he had learnt from her so far, to say nothing of his command over the flame, every one of them had advanced a step, and of that he could be certain.

“How fine…”
“Brother, Brother Yun Jubaek has fainted dead away.”
“…Hm?”

He had been drifting with closed eyes, the wine still lingering in his nose and throat, the spiritual elixir working its threefold change on his jeong-gi-shin (vital essence, breath, and spirit)², when the priest’s flustered voice pulled him back to the present.
When he looked, Yun Jubaek was indeed cradling his cup against his chest as though it were a treasure, fallen flat on his back where he sat.
What stood out most was the uncommonly bright smile on his face.

“A great loss to us all.”
“He’s not dead.”

To Shin Hweein’s mischievous jest the priest answered at once, then examined Yun Jubaek’s state and nodded.

“It does not seem a simple matter of being overcome by emotion. His body and mind both appear to have taken the impact together. …Indeed. I can see the impurities clinging to his soul being drawn out, little by little. It is not that I doubted you, Brother, but if this is a wine of such quality, I dare say that even His Holiness the Pope would set it, with great reluctance, second only to wine of the vine.”
“Even so, it cannot get ahead of vine-wine, can it… No, but —”

That Father Lucas could see souls he had known.
That he could come by such information besides, he had not.
Hearing it, Shin Hweein could not, in good conscience, keep from asking.

“What of my soul?”
“Have I not told you before? Brilliantly bright, and clean past believing. Have you, perhaps, taken this wine regularly since childhood?”
“How could that be? This is a distilled spirit. Even Saint Martin would be hard-pressed to watch over it.”
“Rest assured, there is also Saint Ludovico, patron of distillers³.”

The meaning being: so rest assured, and give him some wine.

Glancing once at Yun Jubaek, stretched out flat, Shin Hweein shook his head in resignation, drew the stopper out of the bottle once more, and filled the priest’s cup.

“But will it be all right? I noticed earlier that Brother Yun Jubaek’s energy seemed to flow into the bottle. If it is the same with me, then… the Lord’s power might push out the other energies.”
“In that case, use it for the Eucharist.”

The priest broke into laughter at that, and likewise filled Shin Hweein’s cup.
Fortunately, in the bottle returned to him, the energy that had flowed in from Father Lucas was mingling harmoniously with the rest.
The wine bearing his energy would only be drinkable next time round, of course; the present cup carried Yun Jubaek’s.

The moment they had clinked cups with the priest and drained them, an insight came to Shin Hweein at once.

“Ah, indeed.”

Generation after generation, the Yun house had produced excellent military officers, so it stood to reason that they were skilled in strategy and tactics; but their gift for harmonizing sorcery with close-quarter combat was no less outstanding.
With their natively robust bodies and the variety and might of the sorceries that made up for what their bodies lacked, of all the Eight Pure-Blood Houses they were the most evenly balanced, their faction had grown sturdy to match, and never once in the long history of the house had they stood in peril.
That Yun Juna could not bring herself to give up the power of a Warrior owed, too, to that very background within the Yun house.

As it happens, having formed a connection with Ushi-gozen this time and learned the way of body and blade, that will stand me in good stead here.

What Shin Hweein had gained was a portion of the enhanced physical capacities the Yun house had accumulated over long ages, and a small insight into harmonizing sorcery with close-quarter combat.
In truth, he had thought of it only as sharing a cup with Yun Jubaek and had not so much as imagined there was much to gain from him, so this proved, beyond all expectation, a great help.

The man himself has been laid out cold… but when he wakes, he will find that a great many things have changed.

One thing he had felt while travelling together to Hwa-guk this time was that, for a First-Rank sorcerer, Yun Jubaek’s bearing still fell a touch short.
He was the direct heir of a renowned house, and as a soldier on active service he must have piled up plenty of practical experience, yet in the sorceries he handled there was nothing one could call a particular flash of brilliance.
Perhaps, moving so often with his unit until now, he had not realized it himself; but he was First-Rank now, and from this last commission, watching the exploits of other First-Rank awakened, he must surely have come to certain realizations.
Shin Hweein hoped this spiritual elixir would prove a good opening, that it might unfold his potential.

“Ah…”

As for Father Lucas across from him, to his astonishment, a single trail of tears was running down the man’s face.

“It is a beautiful wine. I can feel the hearts of so many people in it. Yet surely this is wine at its most beautiful when you are the one drinking it, Brother. I feel as though I have just stepped out of a most stirring film.”
“Listening to the priest, there are moments now and then that genuinely astonish a man.”

If the traces of Shin Hweein and the others gathered up in a single bottle of wine were a film, then Father Lucas, joining the cast, was sure to make that film finer and more beautiful still as he watched.

“Will there be no sequel? In our day, after all, series productions are quite the trend.”
“That’s surprising in another way.”

When Shin Hweein hurriedly set the bottle back inside the storeroom, the priest, having drained his cup to a polish, spoke with a regretful look.

“That, of course, was a jest, but — Sister Barbara, who likes her drink, would enjoy this very much, I think.”
“She and I are not close enough to share a cup.”
“What do you mean, not close — that’s all just shyness, that is.”
“Ha.”

And then, as though to cut off the voice of Father Lucas, who even after all this time was bringing up his younger sister to push her at Shin Hweein, plates of food rose up onto the table, breathing out steam.

“Don’t go saying such absurdities, Father; just drink your wine.”

The one cutting off the priest’s sales pitch and laying out the side dishes was, of course, Geum Moa.
By now Shin Hweein was fully confident he would not be startled even if a live animal came tumbling out of her bosom, but the priest was admiring the side dishes that gave off such warm, piping heat.

“Young master, say ah.”
“Mm.”

When Geum Moa held out a slice of boiled pork on her chopsticks, Shin Hweein took it obediently.
Then he drew out one of the bottles he had bought earlier at the duty-free shop on Yun Jubaek’s recommendation, and asked her,

“You went to all the trouble of preparing the food, and yet you yourself are not drinking.”
“Oh, young master. What sort of woman drinks at a sitting where strange men are present? Wine is for sharing only with one’s own man.”
“For a devil to make so deeply conservative a remark…”

It was only now that Shin Hweein understood the precise reason Geum Moa was so averse to his holding a drinking gathering with other women.
There was the special nature of the wine they drank, certainly, but more than anything she simply hated for him to drink wine with another woman in the first place.

“Brother, I would not say I share that devil’s way of thinking, but our Sister Barbara, too, doesn’t drink with other men; she is a nun, after all. Of course, drinking alone in a bar… does, occasionally, happen.”
“Where on earth, with so little dignity, does a woman drink alone in a place full of people? Such a woman will be taken lightly. What man, seeing such a sight, would not entertain improper thoughts?”
“But that’s the man’s fault, not the woman’s, you know.”
“From the start, the white heron should avoid the valley where the crows are fighting. The wise, rather than treading deliberately into filthy places and then complaining why their robes have grown dirty, simply do not set foot inside at all.”
“To have a way of thinking so filled with prejudice…!”

Seeing Father Lucas stunned, Shin Hweein decided not to give voice to the fact that, in his heart of hearts, he agreed with Geum Moa’s words.
It was all the fault of the Shin family’s education, which remained at a medieval level in its understanding.
But should this topic go on, Shin Hweein’s inner thoughts were in danger of being exposed, so he resolved to change the subject in haste.

“And as it happens, Big Bro Jubaek has fallen asleep too.”

Certain that Yun Jubaek would be some time yet in rousing himself, Shin Hweein cast a simple barrier so the man would not overhear, and said to Father Lucas,

“Let us talk a little of something personal. The matter of Zer, I mean.”
“Hmm… that, to be honest, is something I had been wanting to bring up if a good chance arose, but…”

Right after, the priest wore a mischievous look and shook his head.

“Hear it from Sister Barbara. The truth is, I do not properly remember all that happened at the time, and once I begin to speak of it I may take a less than impartial stance. So rather than from me, it would be better to hear it from her. As it happens, the two of you had promised to talk together, had you not?”
“…We did, of course, but — do you have something else in mind?”
“No, I truly think so. Above all, with Zer awake inside me now, it is hard to speak of him in detail. Even now I can feel his resistance. …Or no — this may just be Zer wanting that wine from earlier.”

Gauging the amount of wine left in the bottle, Shin Hweein answered.

“Nearly half remains. Should the chance arise, sharing a cup with him too would not be amiss.”
“Are you in earnest?”
“What would be against it?”

To gain two friends from one priest, Shin Hweein thought of it simply as pure profit; but the priest shook his head, looking thoroughly amazed.

“No, that is not — truly, Brother, you go beyond my reckoning every time. Zer has quieted down too.”
“Come to think of it, in Hwa-guk Zer was unexpectedly well-behaved.”
“Thanks to the dependability of our companions. By their help we brought the matter to a clean conclusion with little sacrifice, did we not?”
“Little sacrifice…”

At those words Shin Hweein, recalling the failure in Hwa-guk, let out a bitter voice.
The priest asked, looking puzzled,

“What is the matter?”
“There is something I must confess. …Perhaps it was because I took my time that the sacrifices grew.”
“Is that so. Speak at your ease. As it happens, I am a priest — think of it as a confession.”

To the priest’s words, meant to set his heart at rest, Shin Hweein slowly nodded, and spoke of the time he had fought the First-Rank awakened who wielded the power of Aztec.
More precisely, of the two Rank-Two awakened who had driven him into an Other Realm beforehand, and of how, holding out against putting on the Ushi-gozen mask and so dragging out the time, it was only just before the First-Rank awakened arrived that he had finally been able to dispatch them.
While he was fighting the Rank-Two awakened, the First-Rank awakened had offered up every one of the followers who had entered the Other Realm with him as sacrifices.

“If I was going to put on the mask in the end anyway — if I had not clung to a needless stubbornness and had put them down quickly. If I had sought him out first, I would not have multiplied the sacrifices.”
“So that is what you have been carrying alone. It must have been hard for you.”

When the priest wore a bitter look and answered in kind, Shin Hweein nodded honestly and let out a sigh.

“Since coming out into society and beginning to work as a sorcerer, I have met with many failures, I think. Each time, I resolve not to make the same mistake the next time, yet in the end I do the same thing again. I am, frankly, fed up with my own easy thinking and bearing.”
“…Brother, what if you could know the whole of the future?”

To the priest’s out-of-the-blue question, Shin Hweein shrugged.

“That is not the sort of thing I was speaking of, but — well. That would be God.”
“Yes, Brother. You are not God. So you are not easy at all; you are merely proud. Do you think yourself a being who can foresee even the unknown future and act upon it, a being who has truly surpassed perfection?”
“But if I could have judged and acted more realistically…”
“A better thought, a better deed that was not in fact realized — that is not realism, it is merely an ideal. Do not, for the sake of a past that cannot be undone, belittle your heart and your effort and your action of that time.”

The priest filled Shin Hweein’s cup.
How they had come into a mood in which he was being lectured like this, he could not say; but as he had been the one to broach the subject, Shin Hweein resolved to take it meekly.

“There was an important reason you hesitated to put on the mask. Was there not?”
“There was.”
“Nor were you dragging out the fight against the enemy because you wished to see people dying.”
“…No.”
“You did your utmost, Brother. The deaths of those people are deeply to be lamented, but that is not your fault. It is the fault of the one who killed them. You must not drag in another’s sin and bear it for him.”

Shin Hweein once more stopped moving.
When he turned only his gaze upon the priest, this time it was the priest who shrugged.

“For a while now I have, from time to time, had that impression of you, Brother. Our Lord Jesus took all our sins upon Himself and was nailed to the cross, but He is the Son of God, and we are merely human, are we not? Brother, you carry too great a sense of responsibility.”
“That is… the very thing I most deny.”

Geum Moa, who had been only listening without breaking into their talk, let out a soft kuk of laughter.
At the air of I told you so she seemed about to give voice to, Shin Hweein only ground his teeth inwardly.

“Of course, there will be more occasions for regret in the days to come. Your nature will not change overnight, so most likely, even hereafter, you will keep going about with every person you come to know hoisted onto your shoulders.”
“That seems an overestimate.”
“Now then. In the end, every regret arises from one’s own weakness.”

The priest lifted his cup.

“If you do not wish for the same regret again, the best course is to grow strong quickly. Is this not the answer you have been seeking, Brother?”
“It may well be. After much agonizing, the answer always comes to that one thing.”

The two of them clinked their cups and drained them at a single draught.

“I want to grow strong…”
“That makes two of us.”

Father Lucas, too, smiled wryly and murmured in a regretful tone.

“I want to grow strong as well.”
“…Will you truly not speak of the old days? I think now would be the very moment for it.”
“Speaking of which — we still have not had the talk on boseok (penance)⁴.”

In the Roman Catholic Church, boseok refers to an act of penance the priest requires of the believer who has confessed, as evidence of repentance.
The matter Sister Barbara had been told yesterday by Cardinal Mose Oh Unwon, to offer thirty decades of the rosary, was a representative example.

“I am not a believer.”
“Have no fear; even one who is not a believer can do it.”

Clearing his throat with a khum-khum, the priest spoke in the solemn voice of a man laying down a penance to a believer who had truly finished his confession.

“In the near term, set the devils aside and sit down at length, the two of you alone, with Sister Barbara. Untangle the misunderstandings that have built up between you, and build a sounder relationship. Are you not bound to be together, the two of you, for a long time to come?”
“Why on earth do you so confidently assert that we will be long together— No. Very well. I understand. As early as tomorrow…”
“Excellent. Then tomorrow—.”

It was at that very moment that Yun Jubaek, who up till now had been lying senseless, sprang bolt upright.
When the two of them broke off their words and turned to look, he abruptly drew a carefully folded sheet of letter-paper from his bosom and held it out to Shin Hweein.
Then he passed out again.

“…What was that, just now?”
“Come to think of it, he did say he had something to pass on. Most likely it was for that reason that he forced himself awake by sheer determination.”

Shaking his head, Shin Hweein opened the letter and narrowed his eyes.

“Tomorrow is cancelled. A prior engagement has come up.”
“A prior engagement has come up — what a splendid line for turning a man down.”
“It is true. …This man truly does read the future.”

Shin Hweein sighed and crumpled the letter-paper.
However little he liked it, there was something he had to receive, and so it could not be helped.

And so it was that on the morrow an item appeared on his schedule: he was, once again, to call upon the Shin family graveyard.