Chapter 8 First Play(3) - Martial Arts Masochist

"Why am I doing this?" Cheongwol pondered to herself. Her mouth was gagged with fabric, leaving only her breathing to express her emotions. When she lost her ability to speak, it felt like a piece of her identity had been severed. She couldn't even voice the simplest of feelings, whether they were of joy or displeasure. Yet, why was she in this situation? ...Was it because of the internal demon? Yes, it must have been because of that. However, could such unruly thoughts truly be quelled through violence like this? Could her resentment towards the sect leader and her senior brothers truly be calmed? She couldn't be sure. In this dimly lit and secretive basement where a small candle flickered, the peculiar acts unfolded. Even an inexperienced person like Cheongwol could recognize that a sexual tension had been simmering here for some time now. The reason eluded her. It wasn’t as if they were exposing their bare bodies or whispering sweet nothings to each other... yet a subtly provocative atmosphere was certainly in the air. The way one swallowed, the way eyes met. The gestures and even Han Seojin’s tone were stirring strange feelings within her. Cheongwol was deeply uncomfortable with these unfamiliar sensations. She hadn't lived her life to appear pretty for a man. Her ambition was to stand on her own and become a heroic figure like the sect leader. And yet, here and now? In this space. With this man. She was complying with orders as if surrendering. No, this couldn’t go on. She had to stop. She attempted to remove the gag... "…Well done." A single phrase. Those simple words froze her in place. “It wasn’t that difficult, right?” She couldn't understand herself. She was dumbstruck by the fact that such mere words had immobilized her. Her body, which never stopped even under the bandits' taunts or the sect leader's scolding, always acted unaffrighted by words. “Why am I like this?” Cheongwol questioned herself but received no answer. However, she realized one thing. “Well done.” Those words, it had been so long since she heard them. Her senior brothers, the elders, her master, her senior sisters, the villagers, and even the people of the central plains—none of them ever told her such things. Cheongwol had gradually become someone for whom doing well was taken for granted. People might say “as expected” but it was so unfamiliar. She only ever heard things like “just as the rumors say,” but not “well done.” Who would praise the head of the Shaolin for doing a good job, saying, “well done”? Somehow, Cheongwol had risen to such a position. However, Han Seojin, as if forgetting she was the Millennium Flower of the Emei Sect, lavished generous praises on her as if she were a child. Merely for having her mouth closed. When Han Seojin grasped her wrist, it was much the same. She had lived hiding her hands. She once eavesdropped on her senior brothers talking. “Your hands should be pretty, you know? Do you know how much men love pretty hands?” “What, they even look at hands? Isn’t that too much?” “Hey! What man would like it if a woman had a blacksmith’s hands?” “Oh, maybe I should cut down on training... my hands are getting calloused.” Cheongwol had looked down at her own hands back then. Through steadfast effort, her right hand had already become more disfigured than a blacksmith’s. Her knuckles were bent, and calluses covered her hands. The back of her hand was scarred. Even she didn’t find them pretty. The monstrous, grotesque right hand... she resigned herself to men despising them. Not that she had any intention of forging a connection with a man... nonetheless, she started feeling embarrassed at some point. Maybe because she was a woman after all, showing such an unsightly appearance felt humiliating. Perhaps it was due to these compounded feelings that she was dubbed the Millennium Flower of the Emei Sect. However, as she attempted to conceal her hands, Seojin held them, and said, “...You’ve worked hard. I can tell just by looking at your hands. They’re beautiful.” Words she had never heard before. Though the compliment felt awkward, embarrassing, shameful, even repulsive. ...it seemed to acknowledge her efforts. Her heart fluttered aimlessly. Although she herself thought her hands weren’t pretty, he said otherwise. He saw beyond the shape of the hands to the effort within. Realizing what was happening, Cheongwol found herself gagged, even sacrificing the freedom of her hands. As each bit of her freedom was taken, her heart began to beat faster. She was still so confused. Why did she keep enduring this? But— Maybe if she held on just a little longer, she felt she might come to understand something important. . . . “Shall we make a wager?” Han Seojin proposed through the darkness. She couldn’t see his expression clearly. Perhaps, her own ragged breath obscured her vision. Cheongwol found his suggestion absurd. He asked her a question while her mouth was covered, expecting no answer. Yet, it seemed Han Seojin had no intention of seeking her input and continued outlining the terms of the wager. He picked up a small wooden plank from somewhere in the basement. A piece of wood about the size of a palm. “Stand on this until the candle over there burns out.” “...?” Cheongwol frowned at the growing confusion. Nonetheless, Han Seojin continued speaking confidently to her. “If you last until the end, you win. If you fall, I win.” “...” Frankly, it wasn’t that big of a deal. The wooden plank was small, narrow to the point where she could only perch on her tiptoe with one foot... but such things were trivial to her, being a martial artist of the first rank, unlike ordinary martial artists who might find this challenging. ...had she not been gagged, she might have asked him what was so difficult about it. Meanwhile, Han Seojin continued. “Let’s see. If you fall... you’ll buy me a bowl of noodles at the inn tomorrow. And while you’re at it, give me a kiss on the cheek. In front of everyone.” “-Hmm!” Unconsciously, Cheongwol raised her voice. For the first time, the sexual tension that had dominated the room revealed its true form. “As you said, I’m a loner in the village, so I have to leverage your reputation. If the Millennium Flower of the Emei Sect kisses me on the cheek, people will start to take interest.” Cheongwol detested everything about the wager. There’s nothing more annoying than rumors in this world. Especially as a member of the Emei Sect. She was even more uncomfortable with the entire situation. Even a small misunderstanding felt like a significant burden to her. As she watched her own intense reactions, she couldn't help but realize how much she still cared about the opinions of those in the central plains. Han Seojin remained composed. "A wager should carry at least this much weight. It's not like it's a difficult task for you." "Huff... huff..." "If you win... alright, I'll just forget everything that happened today." Cheongwol's expression twisted further. What could that possibly mean? Wasn't the balance too skewed? She was putting her reputation from the central plains at stake in this minor wager, while Han Seojin simply promised to forget. "Hmph! Mm!" Cheongwol tried to protest again— "But if you don't like it, leave." Han Seojin continued to threaten her. He held the hostage of the internal demon in her chest, wielding it to manipulate her at will. "..." Faced with her burning anger, Cheongwol had to confront the reality that she had no other choices. ...It was pathetic. After taking several deep breaths, she tried to regain her composure. As a disciple of one of the Nine Great Schools, maintaining composure was always regarded as a fundamental virtue. Yes, this shouldn't be difficult at all. How hard could it be to stand on a single piece of wood? Amid all the incomprehensible circumstances. This basement, despite everything, felt more comfortable than the harsh expectations of the sect leader. Even if she couldn't understand the meaning behind this act... ultimately with a frown, she waited for Han Seojin's next move. Once all was done, if there were no changes to the internal demon... ...then it wouldn't be too late to punish Han Seojin. –Whish! The piece of wood that Han Seojin tossed skidded to a stop on the floor. "Get on." He commanded with an authoritative tone. Cheongwol's face flushed again. It wasn't the act of getting on the block of wood that she disliked. It was the act of obeying his orders that she despised. She had never let anyone else dictate her actions before. One of the taboos in Taoism is coercion. Even though the Emei Sect is a Buddhist sect, it shares the Taoist custom of avoiding coercion due to its influence. But now, it felt as if she, like a domesticated animal, had to simply comply with his words. Despite feeling ashamed, Cheongwol... had no choice but to slowly move her body. Her ears rang. Such was the extent of her humiliation. It was just a trivial matter, yet it was the first such experience in her life. Carefully, Cheongwol placed her left foot on the wood and balanced on her tiptoe. With no room for her right foot, she held it aloft to maintain her balance. Meanwhile, Han Seojin retrieved a long rope from among the drums. "...?" –Whip! He began attaching the rope to her cuffs. Cheongwol, standing on the narrow piece of wood, couldn't even react. Protesting, resisting—all impossible for fear of falling. Why she was so focused on this ridiculous wager, she couldn't say, but already this tiny piece of wood had become her cage. Having secured the rope to her cuffs, Han Seojin threw it towards a wooden frame on the ceiling. –Thud. One end of the rope dangled from the ceiling. "..." After offering a small smile, Han Seojin yanked the rope harshly. –Whoosh! "Mmph!" Cheongwol's arms embarrassingly shot up, reaching toward the sky. Her wrists bound, her arms were lifted over her head. In this vulnerable position, she faced Han Seojin. The exposure felt utterly humiliating, as if her entire body was laid bare, and Cheongwol's face reddened with shame. Her chest was further accentuated. This was an entirely new experience for her. "Nggh! Mmmph!" Desperately, she tried to pull her arms back down, but Han Seojin held the rope with his full weight. Since her external power wasn't particularly strong, if she didn't focus her inner power, she couldn't overpower a man's strength. In an instant, Cheongwol summoned her internal energy... “Well done.” –Flinch. ...Once again, those words froze her in place. Cheongwol's eyes trembled slightly. Han Seojin smiled. "...See? You've done well, Cheongwol."