Chapter 19 Friend (1) - Martial Arts Masochist

Friend (1) "...Is there someone in the Emei Sect suffering from demon possession?" "Cough!!" I choked on the drink due to the elder's words. With hands as big as a cauldron lid, Uncle Machil-deuk patted my back. "Kid, take it slow." Struggling to catch my breath between coughs, I placed the cup down with trembling hands. Then, I looked at Uncle Gwak-du. "D-Demon possession?" "Yes, demon possession. It's a condition beyond one's limits, with no road back." "Th-That doesn't make sense. Are you saying a nun from the Emei Sect did such a gruesome act?" These guys shouldn't get too close to the truth! How much trouble I've been going through with Cheongwol knowing that! Luckily, Uncle Gu-yeong sided with me. "Oh, brother. We're not illiterate. If it was other sword techniques, fine, but with the Sohyang sword technique, we'd know from one look at the bodies." "It's not like the Emei Sect only has the Sohyang sword technique." Uncle Machil-deuk scratched his head as he chimed in. "Although it's not the only technique, that cruel and merciless sword technique can't belong to the Emei Sect. Does such a technique really exist there?" "There is one: the Annihilation Sword (滅絶劍)." "Cough!! Cough!!! Cough!!" This time, it wasn't just a cough; it was almost panic. How much does this guy know? The Annihilation Sword is the very technique Cheongwol was known for when she became one of the Seven Demons of the Demon Cult. A tyrannical technique with no mercy in its strikes. The very sword technique that allowed her to reach greatness. "What’s the Annihilation Sword?" Uncle Gu-yeong asked. Uncle Gwak-du blinked, as if searching his memory, and spoke. "It’s a forbidden sword technique from the past Emei Sect. But once created, a sword technique doesn't just disappear." "Cough!! Gasp!! Cough!!" "Only those destined to become sect leaders would know it. So... Miss Soun, Miss Cheongwol, and the honorable Elder Moo-wol seem to know it too, assuming it's been properly passed on. And—" "Cough!!! Cough!!!" "Ugh, spare us the noise." Yeah, be quiet yourselves! I'm trying to save you here! You don't see I'm forcing these coughs? What if Cheongwol hears this prattle while lurking below? Uncle Gu-yeong continued to question. "How do you know that, brother?" "Even if I'm a beggar, I don't fall short in what's inside my head. You still don't know?" Uncle Gwak-du nudged his head with his fingers. This can’t go on. Time to wrap it up. I wiped my mouth and waved my hands dismissively. "Aye, aye, aye!" "What's with this now?" "How can you doubt the Emei Sect while receiving their protection? You may have a brain, but where’s your honor?" "Hey, kid, irrespective of whose meals I've had, as a beggar I have to question what's questionable." "The truth is that bodies were just found behind the mountain, that's all. The suspicion against the Emei Sect is just something cooked up in your head." Uncle Gwak-du finally smacked his lips. "Well... that's true, but..." "Just a few months ago, you were singing praises when Elder Moo-wol personally brought you food. How could you forget so quickly?" Uncle Gu-yeong and Uncle Machil-deuk nodded. "That's right. You went too far this time, brother. No matter how much you like speculation..." "You just love being right on your own, don't you, brother?" "Ahem." Uncle Gwak-du’s face began to turn red. He tried to cover it up. "...Well, with people suffering from demon possession popping up everywhere... I thought the Emei Sect might be possible. Increasingly, young martial artists fall apart..." I couldn't dispute that. This flow eventually leads to the rise of the Demon Cult. Uncle Gu-yeong nodded as well. "It’s a problem for every sect. Demon possession... It’d be great if we had a physician." Uncle Machil-deuk let out a hollow laugh. "Not even divine doctors can solve demon possession, and even top martial artists falter. What could a physician do? If there were such a physician, they'd become a calamity, coveted by every sect." "Why are you so prickly about something so off-the-cuff?" "I just don't like hearing nonsense." Sighing, I finally made a decision. Seeing these uncles fretting over this issue was concerning. Even knowing Cheongwol was in the basement, I wanted to say at least this much. "...Uncles." I stopped the forced coughs and leaned forward. The uncles leaned in too, to hear my quieter voice. "...Why suddenly lower your voice like that?" I spoke earnestly. "Like Uncle Gwak-du with his speculations, if I trust my intuition... Step away from the mountain incident. Just felt off since hearing about it." When I spoke this way, the uncles listened carefully. Under the guise of intuition, I often made the right choices for them, knowing the future. Uncle Gwak-du tilted his head but answered. "Well... if your intuition says so." "Seojin’s intuition is trustworthy." I then refilled my glass. "Why did you bring so much alcohol again!" Though I swiftly emptied the glass. As time passed, I grew worried about Cheongwol, who must be waiting quietly below. **** - Shiver... Cheongwol's body trembled with cold. She had failed to find any clothes, and darkness enveloped her. The chill of the basement touched her bare skin without mercy. At first, it was unfair, humiliating. But... a familiar voice caressed her ears through the darkness. "Hey, why are you going so hard today?" "I told you, because the drink tastes good! Give me more!" In that voice, she sensed urgency. The tone might be grumbling, but the intent was clear to her. He was trying to quickly get the beggars to leave. All for her sake. He didn't want their secret game to be overheard by those beggars. At first, Cheongwol found it absurd enough to laugh. For the leader of the leather guild, a mortal... to be protecting her, a martial artist. She, too, found herself hiding behind someone much weaker than herself. "…" Yet, as time went on, Cheongwol didn't mind Han Seojin's efforts. Even if the situation was far from ideal and the stark reality of her embarrassing state repeatedly dawned on her… It had been so long since she last felt the comfort of being protected by someone. Without having to step in, just by staying still, he was there trying to solve it for her. How long had it been since someone put in so much effort just for her? Not just driving away the beggars, but engaging in their little game as well. The more Cheongwol ruminated in the dark, the clearer it became. Even if he always complained aloud, in their game of S&M, he truly was considerate towards her. He managed the level just right—like he was sincerely dedicated to alleviating her demon possession. He might offer humiliation, but he also gave back commensurate praise and liberation. He didn't make excessive demands. Had he extinguished the candle and demanded she remove her clothes, it could’ve been different. He might have reached out to touch her bare skin. Cheongwol had no intention of allowing him such liberties, but it was true Han Seojin respected those boundaries. The subtle line, that distance. Was it that care… or trust... that built up over time? Cheongwol could, for once, shed the burdens assigned to her. Discard the Emei Sect's martial attire, surrendering the burdens she'd carried, turning instead into a woman who, clad only in her undergarments, trembles with fear. Her heart raced, still unsettled by the banter of those beggars. Worried her heart pounded, fearful they might suddenly intrude into the basement. If that happened, it would all be over. Assuming nothing was done about the beggars, the entirety of the land would learn of her in such a state. "…" A future she dreaded terribly. And yet… part of her wondered. If the world knew her like this, might she finally unburden herself from the load she had been carrying? Could it be this long-standing duty might suddenly come to an end? How would life change then? ...Strangely, she couldn't see it leading to much of a difference. The world with its pointed fingers would still see her tucked away in Emei Mountain. Training alone as always, eating alone as always. Living alone and resting alone. Even the gossip of her fellow disciples wouldn't bother her much, since she's already enduring it now. Whenever her heart feels heavy, she can walk Mount Emei, visit a nearby waterfall, smell the flowers... ...and maybe sometimes have conversations with Han Seojin. Perhaps he could become a friend? After all, he accepts every side of her. Imagining it this way, the future she feared seemed notably less terrifying. It dawned on her gradually that failing to meet expectations didn’t mean life would crumble. And with that realization, she let out a long breath from the depths of her chest. "…Ha…" Once again, the demon plaguing her had retreated a step. Were it not for these circumstances, would she have ever dared to imagine what it might be like to fall apart? Would she have contemplated a future where her expectations weren’t met? In this new situation, she considered things she couldn’t have before, and thoughts that brought her a sense of calm. One thought led to another. Ah. Cheongwol felt it. A certain enlightenment was approaching. She hesitated, pondering her pitiable state… ...but soon realized that here, without the Emei Sect’s martial robes, was the truest version of herself. Slowly, she knelt, placing her hands upon her knees. Steadfast posture. Steady breaths. Practicing meditation here, unlike with the pressures of fellow disciples around, was something she could start in this basement. Through this risky trust, she revealed her vulnerable self to Han Seojin, who consistently acknowledged her, offering praise for her risks. Even now, she attempted breath control, possibly more danger than surrounded by her fellow disciples. Maybe she’d try trusting Han Seojin despite it seeming reckless. Though not yet truly friends, Cheongwol, for the first time, didn’t entirely feel alone. Anyone would agree if they heard his frantic voice above, trying to send off those beggars quickly. **** "Yeah, yeah! We’re leaving! I'll visit next time!!" Gwak-du waved as they were seen off by Han Seojin. -Thunk. As soon as his door shut, he exchanged glances with the remaining beggar, clicking his tongue. When their eyes met, they burst into laughter, having played along so clumsily. "Looks like he’s grown up, huh?" Gu-yeong commented. Machil-deuk agreed. "Next time we’ll give notice before we pop over, won’t we, brother?" Gwak-du too regained his composure and spoke. "Really. Thought he was still just a kid, but to entertain a lady without us knowing." Gu-yeong playfully nudged Gwak-du’s shoulder. "Who do you think it is? No matter how I think about it, I haven’t a clue." Machil-deuk chimed in. "Isn’t it Ga-young? When it comes to someone Seojin might chat with, it’s got to be her." "But Ga-young is a bit plump. I don’t think Seojin is into her..." "She’s plenty delightful, and with such an agreeable nature." Gwak-du pushed Machil-deuk's face away with a playful shove. "Whatever the case, he’s got nerve." "Definitely. He’s always had that bold side, hasn’t he? He would’ve made a great beggar like us." Gwak-du recalled, mumbling to himself. "Still can’t believe he put her in Emei's martial robe for it…" **** "Yeah, yeah! We’re leaving! I'll visit next time!!" I waved off the elder beggars. They staggered away carefree, blissfully singing as they distanced themselves. Their carefree spirit was unparalleled. "Hic." Though I had drunk quite a bit myself, I wasn’t relaxed enough to be careless with my life. As soon as I saw the old men far enough away, I locked the shop door hurriedly and retrieved the martial robe I had hastily stuffed into the box. With trembling hands, I lit the candle and opened the basement. How much time had passed? About two hours? This was insane. I had inadvertently engaged in a neglect play, except without her consent, it was nothing but abuse. In fact, this couldn’t even be called neglect play. I had thoroughly messed up. Revising my previous evaluation from 90 to 10. A total disaster. Descending the basement stairs, I opened and closed my mouth repeatedly. I needed to call out to her, but how? Miss Cheongwol? Cheongwol? Was she treating this all as part of the game, or was she filled with rage? Depending on her attitude, my tone must adjust accordingly. Creak… Creak… Creak… As I stepped down the wooden stairs, the basement's darkness began to retreat, revealing unmistakably, that this was not a dream. There she was, Cheongwol. Unlike before, she sat squatting in nothing but her undergarments. “Ah...!” As the basement grew brighter, she quickly moved her body, hiding behind the leather drying rack I'd placed there. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of her enchantingly shaped figure. "…" I still didn’t know what to say. So, swallowing my saliva, I approached her. A mixture of feelings surged through me. Terrifyingly should I fear her, yet oddly grateful. If she’d just thought even a little more radically, we might have all perished, wouldn’t we? It seemed peculiar to view her in a new light, as she restrained those feelings, obediently heeding my commands. Understanding her maso tendencies perhaps altered my perception further. I inched closer to Cheongwol. She offered no words, nor movement, merely remaining concealed behind the leather she hid. "…" I stood beside her. The design of her undergarments seemed peculiar—thin fabric shielding her body from chest to navel, yet behind…nothing but a string across the back of her neck and middle. A diamond-shaped piece of cloth covering the front. She was hiding only her back from me behind the leather, allowing me a clear view. Her smooth shoulder blades, the straightness of her back muscles, the side breasts visible from behind demanding attention, skin so smooth it etched deeply in memory, the slim waist apparent even from the back. "Don't... don't look. Unless you want to die." At Cheongwol’s words, I hastily draped the martial robe over her shoulders. Oh damn. Still utterly terrifying. What's to be grateful for when I realize again that she’s a presence I should keep at a distance? Perhaps I should enlist the beggar uncles’ help and escape somehow. "Sigh..." Once the robe enveloped her, Cheongwol sighed a long breath signaling the game’s end. I set the candle beside her. I knew I had to speak. My mistake was grave... or rather—damn, the fault lies heavily on the uncles. Yet, irrespective of perspective, a masochist has no fault in this. Failing my calculations because of the uncles was my mistake... or, rather, she shouldn’t have caught me off guard in my basement in the first place... ...In any case, I ought to apologize. Let’s approach this earnestly. Start with "Miss Cheongwol, I made a mistake—" "Cheongwol—" "I..." Then, squatting, she clutched the robe like a blanket. She whispered, momentarily stiff, "I... I held on really well." I couldn’t muster a response. She didn’t blame nor lash out. My silence was broken only by the unexpectedness of her reaction. She seemed to expect something from me, speaking once more. "...Master... I... really held on..." **** Even after finishing her long meditation, Cheongwol had to remain in darkness, amusingly feeling fear. Would this game ever end? How much longer must she persist? Nothing had changed since she started; the relentless dark and the cold of her body; the boisterous voices of the beggars. She longed for it to end. Yet, if there was any reason she endured, it was an unspoken promise from Han Seojin. She clung to the thought of lavish praise he promised once everything ended. It was absurd to pin hopes on such a thought, but it was all she had. Without it, there was little reason to endure this. Rather she might as well ascend and end them all... "..." Suddenly struck by how violent such thoughts were, she felt fear. Wrestling against those thoughts, she continued to hang on. Ultimately, when Han Seojin descended, and wrapped that robe around her shoulders again, the rush of emotions was overwhelming, mixed with relief. "...Ah..." There was a sense of accomplishment similar to the satisfaction felt after executing the final stroke of her sword in a well-planned attack. It was liberating and joyous. This senseless foray concluded safely once more, but she still required something beyond this point. "...Master... I really held on..." Her faltering heart yearned anew for any response. Whether it be fulfilling his promise, or simply to commend her back's beauty. Say anything. She was still on edge. "Hiccup." Han Seojin, however, was hiccupping, having drunk considerably. For a moment, Cheongwol wondered what she was doing appealing to someone intoxicated. "..." As she was just about to stand... —Slide. His hand reached out, resting upon her head. The warmth of his touch overwhelmed her, unlike the robe’s cloth. As if entering warm water, her skin tingled with goosebumps. Then, gently, he pulled her head closer, tenderly stroking her. Soft strands of hair slipped through his fingers. "...You couldn't be any prettier today." Perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, his movements were uninhibited. The coarse hand smoothed over her hair. Every negative feeling she held dissolved slowly under that touch. A touch more fitting for a puppy, she let it remain shallowed within their shared space. He whispered between them, "...You did so well. I'm proud of you." "..." Cheongwol pondered whether she endured all that time merely for this awkward handhold. ...Yet gradually, the tension released from her body. Her exhaustion evident. All this crude favor, the extended wait… "...I..." Cheongwol found herself pondering a question she wouldn't have dared to ask in a normal circumstance. Perhaps it was the sense of relief overwhelming her. She tried to voice it, but the words wouldn't come. '...Am I... pretty?' As if reading her mind, he replied. "...You're pretty, Cheongwol." -Thud... Her squatting form finally gave way, and she sank to the floor, resting her head on Han Seojin’s thigh. Who would have thought a day would come when she’d rest her head on a man's thigh? But right now, this felt like the most natural thing to do. "Our Wol is... so good-natured." "…" -Zzz... That sensation again. A feeling she could only experience here. The sense of relinquishing control, leaning on someone else. A side of herself she couldn’t show to anyone. It was clear she didn’t mind this comfort. . . . . Cheongwol and Han Seojin slowly emerged from the basement. The awkwardness that always followed their game was unsettling. As the heated atmosphere subsided, all those actions packed with embarrassment flooded back to mind. Words and deeds she would never typically indulge in swam in the back of her mind. Yet neither of them spoke of it. It was such a nonsensical act. ...But why was it? Cheongwol couldn’t contain this one curiosity. "...Master?" She gingerly brushed her hair where he had previously stroked it. "...Yes?" His manner of speaking regained its polite tone once more. Cheongwol found that formality more awkward now. Still, without pointing it out, she asked, "...Is it the same... with others?" "...What?" "...Do you... say such things like calling someone 'our Wol' or telling them they're pretty... giving such praises to others too?" Cheongwol couldn’t bring herself to look at Han Seojin's face. She didn't quite know why she was asking this question. But she was. Pausing, Han Seojin finally responded. "...Uh... Lady Cheongwol is the only one who has seen my basement. Hiccup." "...Then..." "...Naturally, this behavior is also just with Lady Cheongwol..." "...You only do this with me?" "...Yes." Cheongwol remained still for a moment, nodding at his words. She then quickly made her way out of the house, leaving his words hanging in the air. Her heart raced, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why.