Almost There (Part 1)

No matter what tone Ronan used, whether it was Yin Le or Snake Tongue, they treated it as an order and carried it out.

Fifteen minutes later, Ronan was soaking in a warm, slightly scalding bath, his back against the log-built pool wall as layer upon layer of heat seeped through his skin and pores into his five viscera and six bowels.

As for whether this was appropriate while he was injured, Ronan did not mention it, and Yin Le and Snake Tongue had no place to comment.

It had to be said that Ban City's traditional bathing culture had its own distinctive charm. There were no hot springs on the yacht due to its limitations, but with Snake Tongue—a former shrine maiden born and raised in Ban City, steeped in traditional shrine culture for more than a decade—there, the limited facilities could still provide a similar experience.

After Snake Tongue had helped Ronan wash himself clean, he entered this cramped bathroom and soaked in a deep pool that could fit only two or three people. The ceiling overhead, along with the decks above it, had all been opened, revealing a shaft like the walls of a well that drew in the faintly dimming daylight. That enclosed stillness of "looking at the sky from the bottom of a well" somehow carried a contemplative quality.

Ronan reclined against the pool wall, breathing in the warm, moist vapor. Behind him, Snake Tongue lifted a wooden ladle, scooped the warm water flowing from a bamboo pipe at the side, and poured it over his shoulders and back. The shifts in temperature and impact of the water kept stirring his bodily sensations. Once he adapted to it—or grew numb—a strange, faint intoxication quietly spread through his mind.

"You really know how to enjoy yourself."