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Chapter : 23
New Year’s Festival (2)
“What— no, madam! That’s a misunderstanding.”
“You adorable brat! So you finally found a woman willing to put up with that filthy temper before you die!”
“You’re scaring the lady! Please stop saying pointless nonsense…!”
The opposite effect. Oh my, my, came a chorus of widened exclamations. Even customers who had shown no interest glanced their way at his shouted protest. Alperil flushed scarlet at the young master’s blunder, lowered her head, and bit her lip.
Among the seated patrons, many recognized Terenzio’s face and exchanged friendly nods. It seemed, oddly enough, that Terenzio was a fairly frequent visitor here.
As if regretting his rash outburst, Terenzio half-covered his face and guided Alperil forward by the hand. Only then did her face and dress, previously hidden behind his broad frame, come into view.
A moment of silence.
What a waste. Shame, that one’s far too good for Teo.
Looks like a perfect match to me.
He snapped his head to glare at them, and the rustling crowd fell silent immediately.
“Do they… know that you’re, well, you?”
As they slipped toward a secluded seat, Alperil whispered. At her soft murmur, the annoyance on his face melted into a thin smile.
“If they knew, would they act like that?”
“Sit here,” Terenzio added, showing her to the seat. Under dim ruby lighting, with only flickering lamps to brighten it, the restaurant and its patrons brimmed with eccentricity.
Alperil looked around—men in stiff white wigs like medieval musicians, women wrapped in gauzy pink cloth like foreign dancers with shimmering veils.
Even the employees wore unusual garb: the most striking, a young man dyed bright red and dressed like a currently trendy pop singer Alperil had only heard rumors about.
Wooden walls covered in theater posters, a high ceiling dripping with ornate decoration, exotic tablecloths—together they formed something beautiful.
While she was distracted by the strange atmosphere, the owner—called Madam Bandit earlier—returned, leading her substantial frame toward them. She too wore stage-like lace around her waist and pale makeup.
No menu or quill, as any normal staff might carry, could be seen. Before she could speak, Terenzio tossed half a fistful of clinking coins onto the table and asked Alperil:
“Lamb, beef, or chicken?”
“Uh… lamb, I think…”
“Two lamb. Two rums, and one dessert for her.”
Are you listening to me at all?
Madam Bandit had her back turned to Terenzio and was smiling warmly at Alperil. Alperil returned it with a stiff smile.
Then the woman spun back to Terenzio and barked cheerfully:
“You worrywart! I already remembered everything! But Teo—are you going to get drunk again tonight?”
“Is rum out again? If so, whatever you—”
“No! No, it’s not that… Is it because you’ve got a lady with you?”
She leaned in, lowering her voice—though still loud enough for him to hear. Terenzio frowned and answered flatly.
“Now?”
“Yes! Look at the mood in here—flat as a dead fish because that performer canceled the New Year act without warning. And here you walk in—perfect timing! I didn’t think you’d show up with company, though.”
“Seems lively enough to me already.”
“Hmph… you’re in a prickly mood tonight… Wait till he hears you say that.”
Her voice dipped, words scattering. Terenzio raised a brow, more exasperated than angry. She giggled, already wandering off without waiting for an answer. He sighed.
“What was that about?”
“You’ll see.”
He slid a glass toward her just as it arrived. When she asked, eyes bright with curiosity, he didn’t answer. Slightly miffed, Alperil raised the glass—then her eyes lit up.
A sweet drink—exceptionally so. It slipped down her throat smooth as silk and lifted her mood at once. However simple the affection in Terenzio’s gaze, it felt sweet.
Alperil grinned fuzzily. With him by her side like this, perhaps it wouldn’t matter if she remained a clueless fool forever.
The wait for food wasn’t long. Sizzling hot lamb steaks arrived on heated plates, generous enough to explain the lack of menu.
Crispy roasted potato sticks, a chilled salad, and rustic-looking pasta smothered in cream sauce—irresistible.
A young waitress, costumed like a character from a famous play, approached. Tall, adorable, twitching her nose as she glanced between them.
The wink she attempted failed halfway. When Alperil returned a small blink, the waitress lit up, cut Alperil’s steak into bite-sized pieces, and skipped away.
Terenzio ate silently as always, until he stopped entirely to prop his chin and watch Alperil chew with puffed cheeks.
Juices burst blissfully over her tongue. Alperil abandoned her usual dainty eating, covering her face with one hand while she worked through mouthfuls.
“Why are you hiding?”
“Mmph. J-just a sec. Wh—what?”
She had been savoring her bite and replied automatically before understanding.
“Nothing.”
A laugh hid something unsaid. Tipsy Alperil didn’t pry, only turned to watch the other diners, each absorbed in their pleasure.
Comfort. No fussing about dress shape or straying hairs—just eating until full. A first.
“How did you find a place that serves food this good?”
She asked suddenly. Terenzio paused with his glass halfway up.
The tone—familiar somehow—made her nervous. And he hesitated too. They knew too little about one another; any casual question might strike a nerve. He tapped the rim of his glass.
Before she could backtrack, he spoke.
“Every musician has an unbreakable weakness.”
It was nothing but a confession. His alcohol-softened eyes flickered, unsteady. Terenzio’s vulnerable side—glimpsed now and then.
“Being invited to noisy parties, drowning in cheering crowds—then going home to a bare room and facing the empty silence alone. I hated it. Hated it to death.”
“…”
“So I wanted to forget. Even if it meant vanishing among strangers who didn’t know my name.”
Half a success, really. He paused. “…since I still ended up coming back here in the end.”
His murmurs grew faint, swallowed by the clamor.
He swiped at his lips and grinned—playful, fragile. Alperil knew nothing she said could break that expression.
Near the end of the meal, Terenzio suddenly stood.
Alperil blinked and scanned the room—Madam Bandit was waving wildly from the back.
Terenzio walked to the corner where music played and fiddled with the classic turntable. Click. Click. The vinyl turned anew, soft music drifting out. He stifled a sheepish laugh.
“This might have been a mistake.”
He muttered as he passed her and continued on.
Into the empty center—no tables, no chairs. Alperil spotted the piano and gasped, belatedly realizing.
But not the piano. Terenzio strode right past it.
The crowd clapped and whistled—clearly used to this sight.
Terenzio stepped up onto a small platform and approached a cane-shaped amplifier. When he cleared his throat, low and rough, Alperil’s lips slowly parted in astonishment.
