BIA Ch. 66

“Why all of a sudden?”

Bran asked, taking off his suit jacket. Isaiah, after a moment of hesitation, made up an excuse.

“Just because. I saw you at yesterday’s service, and you seemed to know the prayer book well.”

The reason he didn’t say it was because of the tattoo was that Bran didn’t seem to like the topic. Yesterday, it felt like he had subtly stopped him from reading it.

“Cedric is quite a devout Protestant. Most of the other members, except for me, are Irish.”

“Ah, I see.”

Come to think of it, it seemed natural for Irish people to attend church together on Easter or Christmas. The Kalisz Family, no matter what others thought, firmly believed in their own nonsense about inheriting the spirit of the traditional Irish people, so it wasn’t surprising that the entire organization would participate in services like this.

“Even if that weren’t the case, I know the prayer book pretty well.”

“Really? How?”

“The orphanage I was in was run by a Catholic foundation. If you missed Saturday student mass, you got demerits.”

“Oh….”

Isaiah was imagining a young Bran in a pure white altar server robe following the priest when a staff member brought coffee. Bran added a little sugar and water to his espresso shot and took a sip.

“How is it?”

“Much better than the hotel.”

It was the first time Bran had complimented the coffee. Until now, he had always reacted as if he was drinking it reluctantly, no matter where they went.

“What about you?”

Bran asked, putting down his coffee cup.

“I didn’t order coffee?”

“No, I mean what’s your religion?”

“Ah.”

Isaiah unconsciously leaned back slightly. He leaned back against the chair, saying,

“Probably Catholic, I guess?”

“Well, yeah, since you’re Latino.”

Bran nodded as if he had asked an obvious question, belatedly.

“Do you have any memories of going to church?”

“I don’t know. But what would it matter anyway? They’re all fabricated memories.”

Right? Isaiah threw back the words Bran had said. He knew why he was being so deliberately annoying, but Bran just smiled and urged him on, regardless.

“Still, tell me. If you don’t remember anything, just say whatever image of a church comes to mind right now.”

Judging by his tone, it seemed he wasn’t seriously trying to find clues to recover his memories but was just trying to kill time until the food came.

“I don’t know.”

Isaiah turned his gaze back to the Christmas tree outside the window. The various ornaments were shining brightly among the dazzling lights. Among them were angel-shaped dolls and a baby sleeping in a cradle. Isaiah spoke with a slightly softened expression.

“I don’t know about churches, but seeing a Christmas tree makes me feel excited for some reason.”

“That’s a common sentiment among Americans. It has nothing to do with religion.”

“Is that so?”

Isaiah turned his head to look at Bran.

“I didn’t really feel any aversion in the chapel yesterday either.”

“Really?”

For some reason, Bran looked a little surprised.

“Yeah. Actually, I was so dizzy and tired that I didn’t have the energy to think about it.”

“Hmm.”

Bran picked up his coffee cup again. Maybe it was because he had taken off his jacket. Sitting by the sunlit window in his white shirt, Bran looked excessively elegant as he raised his cup. His sacred figure suddenly overlapped with an image. Isaiah spoke as if he had just remembered something.

“Oh, right. You were talking about mass earlier. I suddenly saw an image of you wearing an altar server robe.”

“Really?”

His expression seemed to say, why that of all things?

“Just because you said you attended student mass? I imagined you, around middle or high school age, following the priest in an altar server robe. Well, your face is pretty much the same as now, though.”

“Hmm.”

Bran took a sip of his coffee and put the cup down.

“I already had this face when I was in middle school.”

“No way.”

Isaiah burst out laughing.

“Still, I must have been younger than I am now. I think I would have been a bit prettier.”

“There wouldn’t have been much difference. There were quite a few people who mistook me for a college student.”

“Really? Then, was my imagination accurate? Did you ever do the copying during mass?”

“I did.”

“Oh, really?”

The food came out just as Isaiah’s eyes widened at the unexpected answer.

“This is the entree.”

The appetizer was grilled scallops and zucchini. The accompanying orange sauce was refreshing yet sweet, definitely good for whetting the appetite.

Next, the main dish came out in a small pot. I had vaguely imagined a frankfurter when I heard sausage, but instead, it was a handmade sausage with the texture of the meat still intact.

“This is delicious.”

“That’s a relief.”

A bite of Bran’s sea bream steak, which I got to try, melted in my mouth.

After the cheese and dessert that followed, we finished our satisfying meal and came out to find that it was a little past three in the afternoon.

“Isn’t it late? You said you had to work from three.”

“It’s okay if it’s later. They’ll wait.”

It seemed like he was planning to contact someone online or have some kind of group video conference. For mafia guys, they sure do a lot of things, Isaiah thought, and said,

“Then, I think I’ll take a walk and look around.”

“Go buy some clothes. I’ll drop you off where there are a lot of those kinds of stores.”

Bran found a café in a relatively bustling area within the tourist spot and parked in its parking lot.

“You’re going to work at this café, right?”

“Yeah. Be back by five.”

Bran handed over his card.

“Thanks. I’ll go on a spending spree.”

Isaiah waved the card and got out of the car. He was about to leave the parking lot when he heard Bran calling from behind.

“Hey, wait a minute.”

Instead of answering, Isaiah turned around. Bran, who had gotten out of the car at some point, was walking over with a coat in one hand. It was the coat that had been in the back seat of his car.

“The sea breeze is much more dangerous than you think. Even if you don’t go down to the beach, you’ll get cold quickly if you walk around in that outfit.”

Bran said, putting his coat directly on Isaiah’s shoulders.

“Ah, is that so.”

Bran’s golden eyes were so kind and warm that, for some reason, I couldn’t look him straight in the eye. Isaiah pretended to put his arms through the sleeves to avoid his gaze.

“It’s bigger than I thought.”

Bran said, seeing that the coat sleeves were so long that only the tips of Isaiah’s fingers were barely visible.

“It’s okay, it’s fine like this.”

Isaiah quickly rolled up the sleeves. Fortunately, the length was just a little past his knees, so it wasn’t bad. Also, it was incredibly light for its length. Yet, it was so warm that he felt the heat as soon as he put it on.

“Thank you…”

It was his body that had warmed up, but for some reason, even his heart felt touched. To hide his trembling voice, Isaiah deliberately waved his arms widely and said cheerfully.

“See you later.”

After leaving the parking lot, Isaiah started walking along the road. Even though it was a bustling area, it was a small rural town, and it had only recently started being developed as a tourist destination, so it was nothing like a city. The few buildings there were were mostly entertainment facilities commonly found in tourist spots, and the rest were mostly restaurants or bars. During a ten-minute walk, he saw only two clothing stores, one of which was exclusively for women’s clothing, and the other was closed because it was Sunday.

Is there a Walmart here? If there is, I should go with Bran tonight and buy a t-shirt or something…

Giving up on shopping was fine, but after that, he didn’t know what to do with his time. He could have gone back to the café, but he didn’t want to bother the person working by hanging around with nothing to do.

I think I saw a shooting range earlier, should I go practice shooting?

Just as he was about to turn back the way he came, a henna shop sign caught his eye. Usually, he would have just passed by, but because he had just seen Bran’s tattoo, as soon as he saw the word TATOO, he was drawn into the store as if he were possessed.

“Welcome.”

Chiring- As the bell rang, a middle-aged woman with a reggae perm came out from inside, wearing gloves. There was a unique pungent smell, as if she had been mixing henna paste or making some kind of chemical.

“Can I take a look?”

Isaiah asked, pointing to the designs on the wall of the store.

“Of course. Feel free to look around. There are some here too.”

The woman placed a thick clear file on the customer table. It was a portfolio of her own work, neatly organized by the area of the body, making it easy to look through.

“Bona, are you Bona?”

Isaiah looked at the artist’s name on the portfolio and asked.

“That’s right. I’m Bona.”

Bona smiled, taking off her gloves.

“It’s cool. You have a lot of female customers.”

“Hena is like that. Women who are hesitant about permanent tattoos tend to prefer it. And this is a tourist spot, after all. If they’re going to wear revealing clothes anyway, they might think of getting a small design as a point. There are also many people who say they just happened to walk by and came in, even though they hadn’t planned to.”

Isaiah felt like he understood what she meant. Even he himself had come here purely on impulse. Of course, it wasn’t because of the exposure, though.