OGHOU C20

Chapter 20

The man was the one in black who had just been standing on the first floor.

As soon as he entered the room, he strode forward and, in one swift motion, snapped Songwon’s arm that held the blade. With a crack, the dagger fell to the floor.

“Who… ngh.”

Grabbing the broken arm, the man flung him aside; Songwon smacked into the wall and slid down with a groan of pain. About to rush him again, the man halted, then looked to Cheongyeon.

Understanding what that gaze meant, Cheongyeon nodded carefully.

“Just two hits. No—exactly three.”

A moment later, dull thuds sounded behind him along with a scream, and only then did Cheongyeon let out a sigh of relief.

Just earlier, when their eyes met through the window—

At the same moment the man tapped his ear, a familiar voice resonated in Cheongyeon’s head.

“It’s me.”

A sound transmission?1)

Those with sufficient inner cultivation could transmit sound to a specific person without others hearing—this was called sound transmission. Judging by how clearly his words carried over this distance, that was surely what it was.

Cheongyeon glanced at Songwon’s expression; he seemed not to have noticed a thing.

“If it gets dangerous, blink twice.”

Came the voice again.

Just as suspected—Muho’s voice. He’d firmly ordered Muho not to make a scene and to stay put at the inn, yet he had followed him all the way here.

And what had he done to his face? He even joined that damned wager?

The scolding rose to the tip of his tongue, but there were more urgent matters, so he forced it down. Cheongyeon did as instructed and blinked twice, quickly.

“I’ll be right there.”

Oddly, the low voice reverberating in his head calmed him. Even as he argued with Songwon waiting for Muho to arrive, Muho’s voice continued, steady.

“If it’s too much, close your eyes and count to Sibchil.”

Thus, when the blade came to his neck, Cheongyeon closed his eyes and counted. Seeing Muho appear exactly when he reached Sibchil nearly brought him to tears.

“Don’t kill him. You mustn’t.”

His neck wouldn’t turn, so he couldn’t see what was happening behind him. The blows had already far exceeded three, but just this once, he chose to let it slide.

That bastard. He’d thought of him as a real friend, but he had an agenda all along. He should have realized when he’d been supplying all that clandestine information about the jianghu2). No ordinary man would do that.

“Is it done? If it’s done, bring him here. There are questions to ask.”

Muho dragged Songwon over and dumped him at Cheongyeon’s feet. The face was so swollen as to be unrecognizable, streaming with tears and snot.

“I… I was wrong… Just once… just once, please…”

Had he been beaten so hard that his mind had cracked? He clung even to the hem of Cheongyeon’s trousers. Irritation surged—Cheongyeon wanted to kick him away, but since he couldn’t move, he held it in.

“So what is this item you’re after? What is it that you’d pull a blade over?”

“You really… don’t know? You’re not really Yoo Sehwa?”

“Still not in his right mind, I see.”

When Cheongyeon tried to signal to Muho, Songwon flinched and started pleading.

“No, no! You’re not that person! Please… please… I was wrong.”

Terrified, he began spilling everything he knew.

“I… I just picked it up while traveling for the guild… that a man named Yoo Sehwa had the finest divine sword under heaven… that he hid it deep in the mountains…”

“A sword…?”

“That’s all I know, really! I don’t know what it looks like at all. Just… that with it, you could make enough to feed generations…”

His mind reeled. Somaeng had said this body had once been a swordsman, and now there was talk of a sword hidden deep in the mountains. The snow-capped mountain from his dreams flashed before his eyes.

“Why did you think I was Sehwa… that person?”

Cheongyeon darted a glance at Muho, then asked. He had piled lies on Muho already; he absolutely didn’t want his identity revealed.

“I went to a courtesan house and overheard the girls talking! They said someone they knew well—Yoo Sehwa—was running an inn in Chengdu, Sichuan. So when I came back to Sichuan and checked, among the innkeepers with the surname Yoo, there was only y—argh!”

Muho slammed the great blade to the floor with a heavy thunk, and even Cheongyeon flinched.

‘What’s he doing now…’

“Which courtesan house?”

“I don’t know… somewhere in Hubei, but I don’t remember the name. That’s all I know. Really!”

The more he heard, the heavier his chest felt. Courtesan houses and courtesans now—he couldn’t even imagine what kind of life his past self had led.

When he first heard of the “hidden item,” what had popped into his mind was the heavy chest under the inn’s bed. But something like a sword could never fit in there. And the sword, they said, was hidden in the mountains. In that case, the mountain from his dream seemed the most likely.

But where was that…

“C-can I go now…? Hii—”

With two fingers, as if disdaining to touch him, Muho lifted Songwon by the collar. He glanced at Cheongyeon.

“Want me to toss him out the window?”

“…No, just let him crawl away. I’m dead tired.”

The terrified Songwon bolted the moment Muho released his collar. Muho stayed, looking quietly down at Cheongyeon. At the gaze that seemed to demand an explanation, cold sweat broke out.

“Uh… what you just heard…”

“Let’s go.”

“Huh?”

“You said you were tired.”

“Ah, right—let’s go. But I can’t move my body…”

With a sigh, Muho came over, pulled him close, and hoisted him onto his back. The broad, sturdy back supported him steadily.

Mortified to the core to be carried on the back of a boy so young, Cheongyeon buried his flushed face against Muho’s shoulder.

Under the moonlight as they returned through winding alleys to the inn, the two were lit bright as day. Cheongyeon kept furtively scanning the surroundings, worried someone might see a grown man being carried. Fortunately, it was late; the streets were empty.

Both body and mind were exhausted from the day, but there was still something that had to be said. He loaded the pent-up nagging onto his tongue.

“Take that off first.”

Carried on Muho’s back, he could see the seam at the nape of his neck. A human-skin mask3)? Where had he gotten that?

Muho removed the human-skin mask covering his face. As the floppy “skin” came loose in his hands, his true face finally appeared.

“Ugh… it really is human skin. Disgusting. Where’d you get that?”

“I won it at the gambling den.”

“There’s nothing you, a kid, won’t do! What possessed you to follow me there? Don’t you recognize danger?”

“Says the one who grinned after winning a shell game.”

“That was…!”

“Your smile reached your ears.”

‘Infuriating.’

Cheongyeon glared at the fearsome great blade hanging at Muho’s waist.

“Why covet that dangerous thing? Who gulps down deadly poison like that! Are you, I don’t know, impervious to all poisons?”

“Not all.”

“That’s not the point right now!”

“More nagging.”

Cheongyeon huffed, tamping down his temper. What Muho had done had been truly dangerous, but without him, who knew what might have happened to Cheongyeon by now.

“How did you know I was in danger? You were on the first floor.”

“……”

“Did you hear what we were talking about?”

“No.”

After a pause, Muho spoke.

“I can always tell bad people.”

“How?”

“When they harbor malice… it shows.”

Something in that sounded sad, and Cheongyeon fell silent. How many villains had he faced in his short fifteen years?

After a moment’s quiet, Cheongyeon voiced the question that had been gnawing at him.

“What about me…? Do I seem like a bad person to you?”

“……”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not particularly.”

Fair. He didn’t trust himself either—why would Muho?

Cheongyeon, frustrated, blurted his fears.

“What if I did bad things in the past—stole, hurt people? What then?”

“…What’s that got to do with me.”

“What if I did enough to deserve punishment?”

“Then take it or don’t.”

“What if I even lied to you?”

“Then I’ll kill you.”

“……”

To say it so casually—well, that was Cheon Muho through and through; it made Cheongyeon snort a laugh.

“I think feeling’s coming back to my legs. Put me down now.”

No sooner said than done, Muho set him down. His legs prickled with returning sensation, but he could walk if he took it slow.

As he rotated his stiff ankles, he felt Muho’s steady gaze on him.

“What?”

Under the pouring moonlight, an unreadable emotion crossed Muho’s face. He seemed to hesitate, as if wanting to say something—but what came out was a single word.

“Nothing.”

“What? Don’t start and stop like that. Oh, right.”

Clearing his throat, Cheongyeon adopted a serious tone.

“Thank you for helping me today. Things could’ve gone very badly without you.”

“……”

“Thank you. Truly.”

“Let’s go. Need to wipe the blade.”

Muho jerked his chin at the great blade at his waist and gave a curt answer.

As he quickened his pace, the faintest hint of a smile tugged at his lips. It was barely there, but his mouth was definitely upturned, unlike usual.

‘Wow… did he just smile? He can smile?’

Dazed by the expression he’d never seen before, Cheongyeon snapped back to himself and, dragging his tingling legs, hurried after him.

“Hey, slow down!”

For all that he was still a kid, he was clearly over the moon about getting that great blade.

Footnotes

Sound transmission (전음, 傳音): A martial technique using inner energy to project one’s voice directly to a specific person’s ear across some distance without others hearing.