Chapter 10 First Play (5) - Martial Arts Masochist

The moment I saw the tears in Cheongwol's eyes, I stood frozen in an awkward pose, holding a wooden bucket of water. "Hic... Hic... Hic..." My mind went blank, and as reality crashed back in, everything turned dizzyingly noisy. What the heck do I do now? Who would’ve thought I’d make Cheongwol, one of the Seven Possessed Ghosts of the Demonic Cult, cry? I never imagined she could cry in the first place. This woman, who was so aloof, so high-and-mighty, ruthlessly dispatching supporting characters without a drop of compassion. ...And yet, after a splash of warm water, there she is, crying? Granted, I might have teased her a bit. I called her a courtesan, mocked her for waiting obediently, and marveled at her figure. I paused for a moment to think. “...” Did I perhaps go too far? In hindsight, yeah, I might’ve. My eyes were trembling with uncertainty. How do I wrap this up? Originally, my plan was to lose this bet no matter what. Do you think I actually want a kiss from this maniac? The moment she kisses me at this inn, I'd be eternally tied to the martial world, never able to say goodbye. Cheongwol is an amazing rising star right now, essentially a celebrity. Getting involved in rumors with her? I couldn't live an ordinary life. If she ever betrayed her sect and fell apart, I might have to spend my life in hiding too. I only wanted to set a small trap to encourage her to endure these orders out of reluctance. Don't want to kiss, right? Then just follow the orders. As a first-rate martial artist, standing on a wooden plank was no big deal... The candle I prepared was small, so it was nearly burned out. Just another 5 to 10 minutes to endure, but... I planned to praise her again afterward, letting her know I would forget about this bet as it was agreed. This would have been a neat solution. But now, she's crying, and my plan is falling apart. If I don't stop this behavior now, everything will go terribly wrong. Cowering pathetically and begging would also be a disaster. If I say, ‘I’m sorry,' she’d just respond, 'So you admit you're wrong?' and attack even more. I can't apologize. No way. Should I just put out that candle first? Yeah. Let's do that. And then try to comfort her, saying she won... “H-Heuup…! Heu...!” At that moment, Cheongwol trembled, lost her footing, and slipped off the wooden plank. -Thud. Her knees buckled weakly, hitting the ground. With her arms still loosely bound and raised, Cheongwol wept bitterly. The result of the bet: I won. "...Hic... Heuup..." Ah. I’m really screwed. **** Ah. Cheongwol's knees hit the floor. She slipped. Her legs lost strength from her sobbing, and it happened before she was even aware. No matter how much I wish it were untrue, her knees touched the damp basement floor. Should I let it slide if she gets back onto the plank? ...No chance. Through her tears, she mocked herself. Excuses were plenty, but outcomes were singular. She'd lost the bet she was so confident about. Couldn't even stay standing on a simple wooden plank. At that moment, Cheongwol understood a little. The reason her master was disappointed in her. Was her entire life like this? She’d shouted to be acknowledged for her efforts, but the results were always this poor. No matter how much she claimed to stand firm on the plank, failing to follow even that simple command would render everything else meaningless. Perhaps her master had been perpetually disappointed, observing her stagnant skills. The more she thought about it, the more pathetic she felt. She'd comforted herself, thinking she'd worked harder than anyone, but maybe it was all just an excuse. The memory of mocking her junior, Baekhee, flashed through her mind, making her feel even smaller. What replaced the fleeting relief and comfort was the bitter taste of self-loathing. Unable to meet her master's expectations. Practicing only to regress. Unable to bear the pressure, she butchered bandits. Now, here she was—teased by a man and unable to comply with a simple command to stand on a plank. Behind her, the candle continued to flicker silently. Cheongwol, caught between mocking laughter and tears, closed her eyes. She didn’t want to face that candle. How ridiculous must she seem to Han Seojin now? Despite becoming a first-rate martial artist, unable to comply with a simple command. She could already hear his forthcoming criticism and ridicule. Despite his previous praises, she was sure his attitude would change now. A strange discomfort twisted her heart. ...Strangely, Cheongwol found herself disliking the prospect of the change in Han Seojin’s attitude. While his praise had irritated her, his disdain... She’d developed an even greater aversion to it over time. What would Han Seojin say now, the one who’d spoken so warmly before? For some reason, this impending criticism seemed like it would sting. With eyes closed and arms raised, kneeling, Han Seojin approached her silently. Cheongwol found herself, inexplicably, focusing on each of his steps. Her heart raced, reacting to the footsteps of nothing more than a mere leather shop owner. -Thud. The ropes that bound her arms loosened, and she collapsed weakly. The tears she hadn't shed in a long while and the release of pent-up pressure left her feeling utterly drained. Her face touched the damp floor. Even this was unbecoming of a proud Emei Sect disciple. It felt like the exhaustion she once experienced crying in her parents’ embrace as a child. Of course, her parents weren’t here now... ...Neither was her master, holding her in recent times... ...In fact, no one had been there for her. Ah. In realizing this... She came to understand herself a little better. It seemed she had been a tad lonely. -Swish. At that moment, Cheongwol felt an unexpected sensation. Han Seojin lifted her up and embraced her. “...?” Her body, growing cold, warmed again from the human touch. Unbothered by his own clothes getting wet, Han Seojin supported her warmly. How long had it been since she was last embraced by someone? It was her first time being held by a man. Unlike the embrace of her master, this was broader and firmer. Cheongwol, caught off guard by the sensation, stiffened. This time, she couldn't even muster the usual resistance to push him away. It was the second time she found herself frozen, facing an entirely unexpected situation. But then again, she had lost the bet. She hadn’t been able to remain standing on the wooden plank. Despite failing, why on earth was he holding her? "...You did well." He spoke in the same calm tone as before. "Hic... Hic..." Cheongwol was still bewildered. She wanted to ask what exactly she had done well. Yet, her lips remained sealed. As if reading her mind, Han Seojin addressed her unspoken question. "...You tried hard. That, to me, is enough. You really did well, Cheongwol." ...Oh. -Thump. Those words pierced deeply into her heart. Praise for effort rather than results was something she felt she was hearing for the first time. It ignited within her a turbulent, sudden rush of emotions, like fire meeting oil. Tears welled up once more, foolishly. She felt like her emotions were in disarray. Tossed around by the peculiar sensations this unique situation provided, Cheongwol found it unfamiliar and detested it, so she pushed Han Seojin away. But he didn't let go. In the struggle, their eyes met. The candle still flickered silently, a testimony to her defeat. Seeing the anxiety in her eyes, Han Seojin picked up the water bucket beside him and doused the candle. -Splash! Darkness fell like a curtain closing. It was complete darkness, like having eyes closed. She couldn't see anything, but conversely, no one could see her in her pitiful state either. The only sensation in that darkness was Han Seojin's embrace, encircling her once more. He gently pulled her closer, offering his shoulder for her to lean on. This time, she couldn't push him away. The feeling was reminiscent of collapsing into a parent’s arms after crying oneself into exhaustion. It had been so long since someone held her. The feeling that she wasn't enduring everything alone, that someone was enduring with her, was something she hadn’t felt in a long time. He whispered gently. "...You won. You did well for your first time." "Hic... Hic..." Cheongwol found herself unfamiliar with the surging emotions within her. Even the act of tears welling up felt irritating. If Baekhee or Sister Hyeeul had cried somewhere, Cheongwol would surely have internally criticized them. Crying wasn't something a disciple of the Emei Sect should do. But now... ...In this space with no light, where no one could see her or judge her. If anyone could see her, it would be Han Seojin, but instead of criticizing, he praised her. "...It was tough, wasn't it?" Han Seojin asked. Was he asking about the act of standing on the plank, or about her life as an Emei Sect disciple? One thing was certain: she couldn't hold back anymore. Whether it was the comfort brought by the darkness or the warmth of his embrace, She didn’t want to struggle to contain her emotions any longer. She let go of the last shred of her reasoning. She cried more audibly, slowly letting the tears flow. "Hic... Hic... Hic!" The tears she released flowed endlessly. Cheongwol's body, which had been rigid in Han Seojin's arms, slowly began to relax. Just as she had let go of her tears, she no longer wanted to hold herself up. Cheongwol let her strength go, leaning against his shoulder. Who would’ve thought she’d ever allow herself to lean on a man like this? By tomorrow, she would surely regret it in shame, but for now, she couldn’t help it. "You did well. You endured well." For now, Han Seojin's words of comfort rang louder. Her cuffed hands rested against his chest, and she continuously shed tears on his shoulder. She wanted to answer pathetically, to say it had been tough all this time. But fortunately, her lips remained sealed. Unlike before, she didn't mind this lack of freedom anymore. Unconsciously, Cheongwol clung tightly to the sleeve of his robe with both hands, Continuing to shed tears on his shoulder. "Hic...! Hic... Hic...!" Han Seojin gently stroked the back of Cheongwol's head, which had sagged in resignation. The comfort from his touch felt good. -Softly... softly... As if consoling a child, he continued to whisper softly. What she could feel in the darkness was the warmth from his embrace, his soothing voice... and comfort. "...You did well, Cheongwol. You’ve worked hard." "Hic... Hic..." "You worked hard." This act continued in silent solace for a long time. Cheongwol didn't leave his embrace for that entire time. She couldn’t help it. Her wrists were still cuffed. And through the tears she shed, Cheongwol gradually understood. The reason for this act. The reasons she endured the shame. As she poured out years of suppressed tears... ...Cheongwol gently slipped into slumber. **** Soft sunlight touched Cheongwol’s face. -Chirp chirp. The sound of birds chirped from all around. In contrast, my legs felt numb. I couldn’t tell how long I had been kneeling. -Swoosh... Cheongwol made a small movement, hinting at waking... -Suddenly! She hastily rose upright. I had my forehead pressed down on the floor. A devotion akin to prostrating or a grand ceremonial bow. "...?" Realizing my presence, Cheongwol expressed a puzzled look. "The morning greetings, Lady." I spoke while raising my body. She seemed perplexed by my change in demeanor. And understandably so. I didn’t want to get entangled with her anymore. Let’s completely erase what happened yesterday. We promised that, right…? I spoke to Cheongwol, who simply stared at me, puzzled. "Your gag is removed. You're free to speak." "Ah." Cheongwol fumbled for words, her cheeks flushing red. Meanwhile, I swallowed nervously and spoke. "Lady Cheongwol." "...?" I gave her a friendly smile. "I concede the bet. I will forget everything that happened yesterday." -Chirp chirp. A lengthy silence was filled by the sound of birds between us. Cheongwol seemed frozen, as if turned to stone. Sweat trickled down my back, pouring profusely. "...Forget?" Finally, Cheongwol spoke. "Yes." "...About yesterday?" "Wouldn't it be better for you too, my lady? It would be challenging if others saw...such a vulnerable side." "..." Cheongwol didn't respond. What? Why? Why isn’t she saying anything? I was struggling with this ambiguous reaction from her. But surely, forgetting yesterday would be preferable for her too. Her image, filled with sorrow as she cried, is still vividly imprinted in my mind. She even fainted from crying herself to exhaustion on my shoulder. I did my best to comfort her, holding her tightly and gently stroking her back, pleading for understanding. In hindsight, it was a mistake as well. To even think of laying hands on the body of an Emei Sect disciple? I must’ve been out of my mind. The actions I took yesterday were definitely over the line. I assumed that, since she was a martial artist, she could easily deal with any discomfort by breaking out of the cuffs if she didn’t like it. But reflecting now, she came to me because of her ‘inner demons.’ Regardless of whether SM would aid in resolving those inner disturbances, in the end, I’d seized that very weakness to pressure her. In my mind, it was just a light play, though I had considered escalating it further... ...For Cheongwol, it proved to be too much to handle. Like how only Koreans would be unaware if there's a spicy element in things like stir-fried udon noodles, she had absolutely no tolerance for such things. I could only think I was truly screwed. Hence, to survive, I was fervently trying to make amends. Honestly, if she suddenly decided to kill me here, I wouldn’t even be surprised. "...You'd... forget..." Cheongwol muttered softly. I was being crushed under the weight of pressure. "Yes! I swear, I will never do anything like that again." Never again. Just spare me. "...Won't... do it again..." Cheongwol blinked and looked down at herself. What? Why? Why are you frowning now? What are you planning to do to me? “...” “...” With her face scrunched, she finally broke the eternity of silence. She murmured something, barely audible, to herself. "...Who said... you could...?"