Chapter : 40
The Bachelor’s Confusion
When I returned from the reception room to the workshop, Rouge was holding an invitation in her hand.
It seemed that Eight had given it to her on his way out.
“Rouge, are you going to attend Eight’s wedding?”
“Of course! He’s someone who’s helped us a lot, and since he invited me, I have to congratulate him!
You have an invitation too, right, Jilque? That means you’re attending as well, aren’t you?”
“…No, I’m still undecided.”
“Why? He went out of his way to invite you!”
Rouge tilted her head, puzzled. I decided to explain to her the reasons I’d just given to Eight and Mariela for why I shouldn’t attend the wedding.
Her expression quickly twisted, and she let out a deep sigh.
“I’m speechless. You’re always pretty twisted, but this time it’s on another level.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“They came all the way here to ask you to celebrate with them, didn’t they?
You don’t have to do anything fancy—just attend and offer your congratulations. That alone would make them happy.
It might not feel right to you, but sometimes that’s enough to bring joy to the people who matter.”
“That’s right,” Tristan added. “Even if you feel awkward, as long as they’re happy, isn’t that what counts?”
That was a rather brutal way of putting it—but they weren’t wrong.
At a wedding, the stars of the day are unquestionably the bride and groom.
Since it’s their day to celebrate, their feelings should take priority.
Just as Rouge and Tristan said, simply attending and offering congratulations would be enough.
Still, my usual cynicism and stubborn bachelor spirit gnawed at my heart.
Someone like me, who had such a negative outlook on marriage, had no business being there—
or so a part of me insisted.
But another part wanted to answer their invitation sincerely.
Those two feelings clashed, leaving a fog of uncertainty in my chest.
“…Maybe you’re right,” I murmured at last.
Sensing my mood, the two quietly returned to their work.
I went back to my seat, invitation in hand.
On my desk sat two grinders—one manual, one automatic.
“…Ah, I forgot to sell those.”
I’d meant to sell the finished grinders to Eight but completely forgot.
Now it was too late to chase after him, and I didn’t even know where he lived.
Maybe I could find him by the lake or at the bar, but with the wedding coming up, he probably wouldn’t be out much.
In the end, the wedding might be the only sure place to meet him.
It felt strange to be invited to someone’s wedding when I didn’t even know where they lived.
“Sorry, but I’m heading home early today. You two can go when you’ve finished your quota.”
“Alright, got it,” Rouge replied.
My mood was so clouded that I couldn’t focus on work anyway.
There was no point staying at the workshop longer than necessary.
At times like this, a change of scenery was best.
After tidying my things, I left the workshop and headed home.
●
When I arrived back at my apartment, I ran into Katarina at the entrance.
She had her violin case slung over her back—probably returning from a concert or rehearsal.
We weren’t especially close, so I decided to walk past without saying anything.
But she stopped me by the arm.
“Perfect timing. I want to start working on my next song. Come with me.”
“…Does it have to be right now?”
“You promised to help unless you had something urgent, didn’t you?”
That was part of our deal—help her with songwriting in exchange for the Garden of Sound.
Since I’d accepted that arrangement, I was obligated to cooperate.
The timing couldn’t have been worse, but the Garden of Sound was worth it.
It wouldn’t be right to refuse just because I wasn’t in the mood.
“Fine. Let me drop off my stuff first. Go on ahead to the usual café.”
“Alright.”
She smiled in satisfaction and headed out.
Apparently, she was going straight there. Energetic as always.
I went back to my room, set down my things, and made my way to Rondel’s café.
When I arrived, Katarina was already sitting in the back seat.
She took a sip of coffee and made a bitter face.
She opened the small jar on the table and dropped in one, two cubes of sugar.
Apparently, she still couldn’t drink coffee black.
When she noticed me through the window, she flinched in surprise, then tried to act calm and waved for me to hurry inside.
Her lack of grace made me snort, and I stepped into the café as usual.
“Welcome, Mr. Jilque,” Rondel greeted me.
“Coffee, please.”
“Of course.”
After ordering my usual, I took a seat across from Katarina.
“Still can’t drink it black, huh?”
“Watching women through windows—what a bad habit.”
Her tone made it sound like nothing had happened just moments ago.
“You just happened to be in my line of sight.”
It was true—I hadn’t been watching her intentionally.
If she didn’t want to be seen, she shouldn’t sit by the window.
“Here’s your coffee.”
“Thanks.”
Ignoring Katarina’s annoyed look, I took a sip of the coffee Rondel brought.
“…Hmm. The flavor and aroma are different from before.”
“I’ve been experimenting with different blends using your grinder. How is it?”
“Not bad.”
“Thank you very much.”
Rondel smiled brightly and returned to the counter.
Yes, coffee brewed by Rondel really was on another level.
Thanks to my grinder, the range of flavors had expanded even further.
All the hard work I’d put into making it had paid off.
“Now then, I’d like you to provide the song,” Katarina said, activating a soundproofing magic device.
A barrier of magic enveloped us.
“What kind of song do you want today?”
There were countless songs from my previous life.
Even though I only remembered a portion, it was still an enormous number.
Without knowing the genre or image she wanted, I wouldn’t know where to start.
“Let’s see… something about love.”
“…Got it.”
Why love songs, of all things, today?
Still, whether in this world or my previous one, as long as men and women existed, love was inevitable.
It made sense she’d aim for that—it was a reliable theme with broad appeal.
Thinking of Eight and Mariela’s wedding made a haze of mixed emotions rise again, but that was unrelated.
Katarina readied her pen and paper, and I began to sing a love song I remembered.
“Hold it.”
Halfway through, she stopped me.
Sometimes she’d interrupt to transcribe the melody, but never the first time hearing a song.
So I frowned.
“…What is it?”
“You’re acting weird today.”
“Weird? How?”
“You just don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”
“Enjoying? This is a business arrangement, not playtime.”
To me, this was like paying in installments for the Garden of Sound.
Work for a treasure—not a hobby.
“Still, when you sing, you’re usually more… alive. You try to express the beauty of the song.
But right now, you’re distracted. Your pitch and rhythm are off.”
“…You’re right. I’ve been preoccupied. Sorry.”
“It’s creepy when you apologize so easily.”
“That’s rude.”
“Then stop doing things that make people say that.”
I had no idea what she meant by that.
I’d already apologized for the noise complaints and handled the so-called “stalker” incident amicably.
“If something’s bothering you, just say it. I might not solve it, but talking helps.”
“…You’re the one being creepy now. What do you gain from being nice to me?”
“If you’re not at your best, I can’t compose good music. Isn’t that reason enough?”
Her irritated tone made me sigh.
Well, she wasn’t wrong.
For her, this was a matter of creative survival.
Of course she’d want to eliminate distractions.
I’d already talked to Tristan and Rouge about this, but I was curious about a noblewoman’s perspective.
So I told Katarina about my friend’s upcoming wedding.
“That’s fine, isn’t it? Even if you don’t feel like it.
I attend friends’ weddings too, but deep down I’m thinking, ‘Ugh, they got married before me, I hope they die.’”
“…And yet you still go?”
Her eyes darkened as she muttered, and I couldn’t help but recoil.
How could someone feel that way and still attend?
“No matter how bitter you feel inside, it’s still your friend’s big day, right? You want to celebrate them properly.
You’re only conflicted because, deep down, you do want to celebrate.
If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be struggling with it.”
“…Maybe so.”
In my previous life, I’d attended friends’ weddings out of obligation—
just going through the motions.
A brief greeting, a few congratulatory words, and that was that.
But because people knew my cynical attitude toward marriage, my congratulations always rang hollow.
No one—neither I nor the couple—felt truly happy.
After realizing that, I started avoiding wedding invitations altogether.
But Eight was different.
He was a rare man in this world who shared my bachelor philosophy and remained single into adulthood.
Though we hadn’t met often, our hobbies and mindset were remarkably similar.
We both valued freedom and solitude, making our interactions comfortable and easy.
So, though it saddened me a little that he was stepping onto a different path,
if that was his chosen happiness, I wanted to celebrate it sincerely.
“Well, if you can’t express your congratulations properly, just give a flashy gift.
That’ll ease your awkward feelings.”
“A gift, huh…”
“And don’t give money,” she warned.
That hit close to home—I’d thought of that immediately.
But she was right. Eight was a high-ranked adventurer; he probably didn’t need money.
“Then what do you think would be good?”
“You can make magic tools, can’t you?
Why not craft something they’ll both appreciate?”
A magic tool to celebrate their marriage… I’d never considered that.
But it was a solid, practical idea.
The first thing that came to mind was the automatic coffee grinder.
Still, giving that at a wedding seemed odd.
Eight, a coffee lover, would be thrilled—but Mariela? Probably not so much.
Besides, I’d already promised to sell it to him separately; giving it as a gift felt wrong.
“Come to think of it… this world doesn’t have that, does it?”
An image popped into my mind—an item considered essential for weddings in my previous world.
If I made it here, it would surely be perfect.
Feeling my mind clear and creative spirit returning, I rose from my seat.
“Sorry, but the song will have to wait. I’ve got an idea.”
“Fine, but make sure you deliver next time.”
After paying Rondel for both our drinks, I left the café and hurried home.
The wedding was a month away—a long time or a short one, depending on how you saw it.
Either way, I’d need to make something worthy of the two of them before then.
