The Man Who Remained — His Second Life Began with a Humble Bow of Apology. - Chapter 71: An Experience of Hourai-Style Hospitality.

An Experience of Hourai-Style Hospitality.

Paradise.

That was what the men living in Hourai called this place, or so Cross had heard.

And now, experiencing it himself, he felt it was no exaggeration.

An instrument emitted a curious ben, ben sound.

Its rhythm was rather unusual, but the tones themselves were deeply pleasant.

A woman sat in seiza posture, playing the instrument while narrating a tale.

Another woman danced gracefully upon the stage, using the music as her backdrop.

Here in this room were only those two women, Ellie, and Cross.

He found himself in a place where everyone except him was female.

Radiant, dignified, and beautiful… yet tinged with a fragile melancholy.

That was this place.

That was this song.

That was this moment.

Drifting into a dreamlike drowsiness, Cross listened intently to the woman’s song.

The story she recited was a poem about a man and a woman.

There was once a married couple.

The husband had to go to war.

He was still young, and he had his beloved wife… but even so, he had to leave.

To protect his nation.

And, above all, to protect his beloved wife.

The man went to war, and never returned.

The wife mourned him in despair.

But even so, she wasn’t allowed the time to grieve properly.

She carried his child in her womb.

If… if she hadn’t been pregnant, she would have ended her life with nothing but thoughts of him in her heart.

But such a thing was impossible.

Leaving her child behind to die would have meant abandoning her beloved husband’s final gift to her.

That was something a wife so devoted could never choose.

And so, she married again through arrangement, becoming another man’s wife.

There was no love in that union.

She simply wanted to protect her precious child. That was all.

But that man, knowing everything about her circumstances, still chose to love her.

He was a kind man, and he loved not only her but her child as well.

With time, his gentleness healed her wounded heart, and before she realised it, she was able to return his love.

Years passed.

And one day, a man appeared before the couple.

It was her first husband – the man who had gone off to war and was thought to have died.

But he had survived.

Wandering lost for years, he clung to life, fighting desperately to return.

He returned to his homeland to see the couple, to see what he had fought to protect.

Seeing them, he smiled in satisfaction.

There was happiness there, a family overflowing with smiles.

He desired nothing more than that.

Before his eyes was the very wish he had clung to with his dying breath.

His wife understood everything.

She knew why he had come here, for whom he had suffered, and why he had survived.

She understood it all, and yet… she said nothing.

She could do nothing but silently watch him go.

Once more, he set off for battle.

This time, with no regrets.

To protect his country – no, to protect his dearest treasures – he placed himself in a fight from which he would never return.

The song was a tale of sorrow, grief, and the torment borne by the wife.

The latter half was filled with a somber, heavy melody.

Until the very end, she struggled, and yet, she chose to remain silent.

The musicians’ performance conveyed her silent anguish so powerfully that one could feel it simply by listening.

It was, for better or worse, an all-too-common tragic love story.

Yet, thanks to the singer’s skill and the evocative music, it carried a deep sense of reality.

By the time it ended, Ellie was softly weeping beside him.

The tale was that moving and that beautiful.

The two performers – the instrumentalist and the dancer – said nothing as they finished. Bowing gracefully, they left without a sound.

They left without disturbing the lingering emotions of the performance, without asserting their own presence, simply fading away like a dream.

Then, as if to replace them, another woman arrived, carrying dishes and sake.

“My name is Hisui, and I have been entrusted with your care for tonight. It is a pleasure to serve you both,” she said with a gentle smile.

Her appearance was perfectly human.

So much so that Cross could hardly believe she was a demon.

She was tall, with an elegant bearing, dressed in stunning attire.

To Cross, she seemed almost like a goddess in her beauty.

Her indigo hair was tied up in curling coils, matching her deep blue kimono.

Yet the darkness of her clothing did not evoke mourning. With sparkling hair ornaments and a bright sash, her overall appearance was vibrant and welcoming.

There was no sense that this was a forced or sarcastic hospitality.

More than anything, Cross was simply delighted to be attended by such a beautiful woman, and the thought of insult never crossed his mind.

“My, my, what a sad story you heard earlier,” Hisui said lightly, her smile unwavering. “It darkens the mood, doesn’t it? But here, we let the geisha perform what they most wish to express. I hope you’ll forgive them.”

Ellie shook her head frantically.

“Not at all! It was wonderful… it felt so real, I couldn’t help but cry.”

“Oh my. To move such a beautiful lady to tears… they will be overjoyed to hear that.”

“Yes… please tell them they were amazing. Even the Demon King would be proud.”

At those words, Hisui lifted her index finger to her lips and smiled.

“Shh… This is a time for feasting and enjoyment, is it not? We do not treat you any differently from our other guests. We want you to forget your work, to relax, and to heal your weary hearts. So please, let us speak no more of duties tonight.”

Ellie blinked, momentarily stunned.

Seeing that, Cross chuckled softly.

“That’s nice. It means every guest here is welcomed as warmly as us, right?”

“Of course,” Hisui replied, her smile bright. “Our motto here at Kougyokuya is to ease the fatigue of all who visit, regardless of age or gender. Each geisha performs with pride, just for that purpose.”

“Hmm… then even though I’m not too tired, I’ll let you heal me anyway. Hisui-chan, would you—”

“I am not so young to be called ‘-chan.’ Please refrain,” she interrupted lightly.

“Then… just Hisui, it is.”

“Of course, that is fine.”

“Then call me Cross, too.”

“Forgive me, sir… are you perhaps a wicked man?”

“Oh, not at all. Though with someone as lovely as you, I might just become one.”

“You truly are… a dangerous gentleman,” she whispered, running her hand lightly across his shoulder, her touch graceful yet suggestive.

The allure in her gesture left little room for resistance.

“Do you dislike wicked men?”

“My, such teasing… I cannot say I hate it.”

With her sultry reply, Cross grinned, thoroughly pleased.

Ellie, however, only cast him a cold, exasperated stare.

Not out of jealousy, but simply out of pure disbelief.

“Do not worry,” Hisui said softly, turning her luscious smile towards Ellie. “I would never neglect my guests.”

At that gaze, Ellie shivered slightly, feeling as though she had become prey before a predator.

“T-That’s as part of your hospitality… right?”

Hisui only chuckled softly.

“Fufu… If that is what you wish to believe, then so be it.”

Clapping her hands lightly, attendants began placing dishes upon the table, one after another.

Every plate was filled with foods entirely unfamiliar to Cross and Ellie.

“I hope these suit your taste. Please, eat your fill.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Though I must admit, I have no idea what most of these are. Could you explain them to us?”

“That is my role tonight, so please relax,” Hisui replied, picking up a pair of chopsticks.

“There are countless complicated etiquettes and orders to eating these dishes… but you are guests from afar. Tonight, let us enjoy freely. Please, tell me what catches your interest.”

Cross tilted his head with a smile, scanning the dishes before him.

The large table was completely covered with small plates of food.

There were a few items they recognised, like fried foods or grilled meats, but even those looked different from what they knew.

Each unfamiliar dish stirred within them a childlike sense of adventure.

“Cross… may I go first?” Ellie asked.

“Of course. What do you want to try?”

She pointed at a thin, fried dish with an unfamiliar shape.

It was almost round but formed from thin strands, like delicate sticks fused together.

“That is onion kakiage. We have a child here who dislikes onions, so I prepare them with a little twist,” Hisui explained, smiling mischievously.

“Onion… fries?”

“Oh my, let us not compare it to mere fries before you taste it. Now, open wide.”

With a sweet, teasing smile, Hisui raised the morsel to Cross’s lips.

Her words dripped with a cloying charm that no man could resist.

Cross opened his mouth eagerly, biting into the kakiage.

Crunch.

The crisp sound echoed so loudly it felt as though it reverberated in his brain.

The texture was impossibly light, like biting into airy potato crisps rather than onions.

The flavour was simple yet rich in salt and oil.

“…Rather than delicious, it’s… astonishing. Is this really onion?” Cross muttered.

“Fufu, thank you. Your surprise is the greatest compliment,” Hisui said, now turning to Ellie with another bite ready. “Here, you too, dear.”

Ellie found herself unable to resist.

As she bit into the tempura, she, too, felt an unfamiliar lightness.

“Amazing… it doesn’t taste like onion at all. How do you do this?”

“Oh, it’s nothing complex,” Hisui chuckled. “We simply fry it until every last drop of moisture is gone.”

“Is that… normal?” Ellie asked, glancing at Cross.

His brow furrowed.

“May I have another bite?”

“Of course. We have forks and knives if you prefer.”

But Cross only opened his mouth again wordlessly.

“My, my… such a spoiled little child we have here,” Hisui teased, slipping another crisp bite between his lips with a soft chuckle.

The airy crunch echoed again.

There was truly no moisture left in the onion.

“When you fry food, moisture seeps out… but to remove all of it without burning… that’s skill,” Cross murmured in admiration.

“That’s where true technique lies,” Hisui replied. “Now, do try the other dishes. It would be a shame to let them go cold.”

She then offered a prawn tempura to Ellie, who blushed but accepted it without protest.

Watching them, Cross quietly selected another dish for himself, his heart warmed by the peaceful moment.

An hour and a half passed in a flash.

Their meal, filled with pleasant conversation and unfamiliar delights, felt both long and fleeting – a blissful moment of simple happiness.