TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 31

The God of Wine’s severed head flew through the air, his gaze locking onto Moon.

The moonlight poured through the open window behind the young man in an exquisite black suit. The night breeze ruffled his slightly disheveled raven-black hair, and his cold, inorganic violet eyes glanced over indifferently. A massive scythe, shaped like a black crescent moon, hovered around him, its razor-sharp blade glimmering with a dark purple sheen.

The God of Wine’s head landed heavily on the ground, and suddenly, the air was filled with the rich aroma of red wine, as if a bottle of vintage had just been uncorked.

The blood splattered across the walls began to writhe, flowing backward as if time were reversing, returning to its source and reattaching his head to his body.

With a crisp “click,” the God of Wine tilted his neck back into place.

He showed no anger or surprise, only amusement as he regarded Moon.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he mused, as if reminiscing. “But I never expected you would attack me… over a human.”

His gaze drifted toward the bed, where Albin lay fast asleep.

“To think this human has made me fail my mark time and time again… just what exactly—”

Before he could finish his sentence, his head was severed once more.

This time, the spinning scythe didn’t stop at decapitation—it shredded him into pieces. His limbs scattered like a collapsed tower of blocks, and wine-scented blood sprayed in all directions, as if an artist were wildly splattering paint on a grand canvas. Or perhaps, more fittingly, like a whip soaked in blood lashing through the air.

That blood whip carried an unexpected killing intent, striking toward Moon.

Moon conjured a pair of hemisphere-shaped ice shields—one for himself, the other for Albin—blocking the flying flesh and freezing the blood in midair.

Yet, even in such a fragmented state, the God of Wine did not die.

From the pool of scattered blood, his severed head and vocal cords were the first to regenerate.

“You’ve got quite the temper now,” he remarked with genuine surprise. As he saw Moon preparing to strike again, his hoarse voice called out, “You won’t be able to kill me like this. Since it’s been so long since we last met, why not catch up a little?”

Moon did not respond. Ice spread rapidly from the tip of his boot toward the God of Wine, sealing the blood and flesh that were attempting to reform, freezing them solid.

The God of Wine’s expression twisted for a moment.

Fire was his greatest weakness, but being completely frozen left him just as helpless. He wouldn’t die, but he wouldn’t be able to do much, either.

And Moon’s ice was no ordinary ice—it could take an unknown amount of time to break free from its seal.

Being immobilized, deprived of wine and entertainment for an extended period—this was a fate worse than death.

Neither of them had been fighting seriously, but even if they had, he knew he was no match for this guy.

No… it was best not to fight at all.

A sense of caution crept into the God of Wine’s mind.

He accelerated his regeneration, allowing his blood to rapidly return to him, abandoning the frozen parts and instead regenerating anew. But just as he restored his upper body, the ice sealed him to the ground again, leaving him like a drowning man barely keeping his head above water.

“…It’s just a human,” he muttered. “You can have him. I’m not that petty.”

Then, as if recalling something, he smirked. “But… did you really think I’d make a move against your dear younger brother?”

The ice abruptly stopped spreading.

Moon frowned. “Brother? I don’t recall having a brother like you.”

His gaze toward the God of Wine was that of someone looking at an opportunistic fraud.

“You are the oldest of the gods,” the God of Wine reasoned, “the elder brother of all the divine.”

Moon’s expression darkened. “Don’t say nonsense. I only have one brother.”

His eyes flicked toward the bed, as if worried that Albin might overhear.

Seeing that Albin was still peacefully asleep, his expression relaxed.

The God of Wine’s mouth twitched.

This guy is insane!

There was no way Moon truly saw a human as his brother. More accurately, the God of Wine believed Moon, this cold and dispassionate being, was incapable of feeling emotions at all.

What did “brother” mean to Moon, anyway? Prey? A puppet? It was certainly not meant in the literal sense.

After thinking for a moment, the God of Wine remembered that the Sun God was also after Albin’s body. He asked, “So… are you planning to take revenge on them now?”

“Revenge?” Moon cast him a flat glance. “Revenge on whom?”

The God of Wine was momentarily stunned by his ignorance. Then, suddenly, he burst into laughter.

“Hahaha—! I should have known! You, of all people! You’ve never cared about anyone, never held any emotions—the god of night and death, utterly indifferent!”

“They’re all terrified of your revenge! They’ve spent years trembling in fear, hiding their divine bodies away as if their lives depended on it, but—”

“You don’t even know what they’re afraid of!”

He laughed so hard his whole body convulsed. Even as the ice cut into his back, splitting his skin open, he couldn’t stop.

Tears nearly formed in his eyes.

“Oh, this is priceless—! I can’t wait to see the Sun God’s face when he finds out!”

Moon watched his hysterics with cold detachment.

For as long as he could remember, he had never been able to understand what went on in the God of Wine’s head.

“What did you do to Albin just now?” he asked.

Moon seemed unaware that the marking had failed.

The God of Wine’s laughter abruptly halted. He looked at Moon with even greater surprise.

“…Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping all these years?” He shook his head. “Well, I suppose Sang and the others wouldn’t have told you, either.”

He tore his bloodied arm from the ice and pointed to the cup-shaped stigma on his collarbone.

“When a human is chosen as a vessel by a god, they are marked with something like this,” he explained. “It’s a magical seal for transferring divine souls. Once the spell is activated, the vessel’s soul is erased, and their body is taken over.”

Moon immediately examined Albin.

The God of Wine chuckled. “I wanted to mark him, but unfortunately, I failed.”

Moon doubted his words. “That’s not what you said before.”

Earlier, the God of Wine had claimed he wanted to turn Albin into his new personality. But if the vessel’s soul was erased, how could a new personality form?

“Sang never told you about the magic they created, so of course, they wouldn’t tell me either,” the God of Wine reminded him. “My relationship with them isn’t exactly friendly.”

Indeed. Even someone as reclusive as Moon had heard that the God of Wine was despised by nearly all the other gods.

“This is my own creation,” the God of Wine continued. “Through the Blood-Wine Pool, I can merge my soul with those of other humans, making them a part of me.”

His finger tapped against his temple, and he spread his single remaining arm wide with a crazed grin.

“We are a collective—a fusion of countless personalities. Priests, failed sacrifices—they all abandon their suffering and drown in pleasure. Every moment is a celebration. So lively, so—”

“You’re insane,” Moon interrupted.

The God of Wine was unfazed. He even offered, “Do you like this magic? I can teach it to you. Don’t you want to truly feel human emotions?”

Moon’s eyes flickered. For a moment, he seemed tempted.

The God of Wine continued to gently persuade, “I can feel their pain, their joy, even their love. We are inseparable, like grapes and yeast. One person’s happiness is everyone’s happiness.”

He looked toward the direction of the bed.

“We are intoxicated all day, using pleasure to counter pain. But that child… he resists sinking into pleasure.”

The God of Wine found this utterly unbelievable.

After years of being swept up by the emotions of countless personalities, the God of Wine had long forgotten what his own emotions felt like. Only the shock of that day remained vivid in his memory.

Albin didn’t just reject pleasure—he rejected the God of Wine himself.

Not only that, but the child also made the personalities within him reveal their affection, one after another.

Whether it was Ratu, Padma, or the other failed sacrifices, all were touched by this child.

They even grew jealous.

The personalities within him were jealous that Padma, the dominant personality, could contact the child. Padma, in turn, was jealous that the others could have the child.

One personality’s emotion could stir all the others, especially when so many personalities acted together.

Even the God of Wine felt envy.

He envied the Sun God for having such a child. This could not be allowed!

He needed to bring that child into their fold.

Moon noticed the fiery, yet not resigned, glint in his eyes.

“The God of Wine” and “Albin”—Moon could not link these two names together.

He could not imagine what Albin would be like after absorbing the emotions of the God of Wine. Would he still be his Albin? Or would he be completely consumed by the God of Wine?

Moon studied the God of Wine before him, who had changed both in appearance and personality over the years. Were it not for that divine power, Moon might not have recognized him.

Even the God of Wine had long been consumed by the “collective” he himself had created, becoming unrecognizable.

Moon abandoned his earlier thoughts.

“You are dangerous to Albin,” he said, stepping forward. No longer listening to the God of Wine’s sweet talk, he directly stepped on his chest, raising his palm as he looked down. “As an older brother, I must protect my younger brother. I won’t let you consume him.”

He unleashed his divine power, and under his palm, several layers of black magical circles unfolded. The edges emitted a faint purple-black glow, etched with mysterious symbols and incantations. The atmosphere in the air began to feel oppressive and heavy, as though the space itself were distorting.

The God of Wine’s heart raced. His eyes reflected these magic circles filled with immense energy, and he incredulously asked, “You… you actually want to seal me?”

He stared in disbelief into Moon’s eyes.

In those eyes, cold as always, he saw an emotion he had never seen before.

A determined, protective emotion.

An emotion that could never have appeared in Moon before.

Suddenly, he understood, and laughed wildly. “You… you really have developed feelings for him, hahahaha—”

But as the magical circles entered his body, his laughter abruptly stopped. His eyes lost their luster, his once flamboyant hair softened and reverted to pink, and the holy mark on his collarbone was covered by a black magic circle.

Padma opened his eyes in agony, only to find himself underfoot by an unfamiliar young man.

“You—” He had yet to speak when Moon directly implanted the memories of the recent events into him.

Padma absorbed the memories, his face going ashen.

He had thought that only Latu resided within him, but it turned out there were so many personalities— even the God of Wine…

Without the God of Wine’s control, fragments of other personalities’ memories flashed in his mind. Padma finally understood what had really happened.

His guess had been correct. When he and Latu were thrown into the Blood Wine Pool, the God of Wine had whimsically chosen the dying fox as the Holy Son.

But at that time, Padma had been on the brink of death and unconscious, so he hadn’t received the memories of the personality collective in the Blood Wine Pool.

Latu’s consciousness, being clearer, had entered Padma’s body as a failed sacrifice and became his secondary personality.

When they emerged from the Blood Wine Pool, Padma’s consciousness had still been asleep, and Latu had assumed he was the dominant personality, starting to use his body.

Padma suddenly understood.

No wonder he had lost so many memories.

But there was still one thing he didn’t understand.

He looked at Moon. “Why didn’t you seal me as well? Why tell me all this?”

From the God of Wine’s words, it was clear that Moon was not the kind of person who would show kindness.

“Because Albin allowed you to take care of him. He said he wanted to take you with him,” Moon said in a tone that implied it was obvious. “I am Albin’s older brother.”

He spoke as though it was only natural for an older brother to fulfill his younger brother’s wishes.

Padma was stunned. Was it only for this reason?

“Ah Qiu—” Albin, still lying on the bed, suddenly sneezed.

He felt a little cold and woke up, groggily opening his eyes. He saw a familiar figure.

He muttered dazedly, “…Brother?”

Moon stiffened, acting quickly. He kicked the half-formed Padma, who was only partially regenerated, under the bed and met Albin’s surprised red eyes.

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