TSBIRBV Ch 43

Chapter 43 Namgung Un (8)

As soon as Namgung Un let his arms hang, five pirates rushed him, pinning his limbs to the deck and binding him in rope. Even when one kicked him sharply, he didn’t utter a sound—his face remained tranquil, noble even.

His white robes were crumpled and muddied, yet he still seemed dignified.

Yegyeol, watching the whole sequence, trembled and flinched. Perhaps it was because Namgung Un was a guide like Je Haryang, but at that moment, he overlapped with his Senior Brother’s figure in Yegyeol’s memory. He saw once more the red footprints Je Haryang left across Kunlun’s white snows.

He forced himself to remember: this was not Kunlun, but the Yangtze River.

Pulling himself together wasn’t hard. But to simply stand by and watch left a bitter aftertaste.

“Bind them all!”

The Jiaolong King’s harsh voice roared over the deck.

“Every last one, even those hiding!”

Now Yegyeol knew not only the man’s identity, but that he was a guide. Pirates approached to shackle him, yet he remained blank-faced.

Baembaem, perceptive, slipped up his arm, sensing the pirates aiming to tie people’s wrists. Just then, one pirate came to bind Samrang, then moved toward Yegyeol.

“Uh.”

Baembaem’s scales brushing his skin tickled, and Yegyeol let slip a sound. Thinking it was the pirate’s doing, Samrang’s cold glare stabbed the man like a knife.

“Be careful.”

“Y-yes…”

The pirate shrank a little, then tied Yegyeol’s hands loosely, almost politely.

Pirates… bowing? What kind of career choice did this weakling pick?

Meanwhile, the Jiaolong King seized a sailor. Even from here, her prosthetic arm gleamed with ominous, dull light.

“So? Where is the Tang clan’s party?”

“T-the Tang went ahead as vanguard…” the sailor stammered, trembling at her grasp.

“How amusing. Sailing brazenly under Tang banners—yet no Tang aboard.”

Her voice grew dangerously low. It seemed she herself, more than the prisoners, most needed the Tang.

Her fury felt tangible. Yegyeol believed she might accidentally crush the sailor’s skull by sheer temper.

Un sensed this too, and suddenly shouted, his calm face sharpened like a blade.

“If there is to be bloodshed on this deck, then by Namgung’s name, I will not sit still!”

The Jiaolong King’s eyes slitted dangerously.

“…So the precious flower of Namgung has no tempering yet.”

Her pirates laughed like sneering dogs at their master’s side.

“Even a late-stage prodigy is still a child.”

“Allow me to teach the scion of Namgung the meaning of life, if our King permits.”

“Then go find the Tang instead!”

She kicked her snickering subordinate in annoyance.

The men slunk below to “search,” but it was futile — Tang had already departed in other boats.

Yegyeol’s lips almost twitched into laughter. Tang Seoak’s ambition had merely made him bait for the river’s predators.

Noticing his master’s mood, Baembaem shifted faintly on his arm.

Not yet. Yegyeol closed his eyes.

Ever since awakening as an S-class esper, caution came harder. He could overturn things whenever he wished. All the more reason, then, to extract as much arrogance from foes as possible before acting.

Besides, attempting escape now, with the King herself on deck, was insanity. Better as a bound prisoner than to test grandmasters’ reflexes up close.

The other pirates returned soon.

“No Tang stink below decks but mold and moss.”

“Strange. I could swear they were aboard…”

The King’s face grew colder the longer they reported nothing. Yegyeol lowered his eyes, waiting. Would she kill some captives for release of her rage?

Sniffing faintly, he leaned toward Samrang and whispered:

“If I’m about to die, don’t throw yourself trying to save me. Run. Understand?”

He couldn’t afford bystanders when flooding the ship with lightning was his contingency.

“…I’ll think about it,” she replied impishly, too calm.

Yegyeol rolled his eyes. Je Haryang had sent her for a reason: she was capable. But she seemed as wary of Namgung Un as of the pirates themselves.

“Move them to the Jiaolong Ship!”

Relief—at least she didn’t cull them here.

“You, this way!”

“Y-yes.”

Samrang complied easily, following.

Men left behind spurred Yegyeol’s unease. There goes my human compass…

He glanced at her wistfully. She met his eyes one last time, her expression curdling to something dangerous.

Her voice reached him in a whisper of sound transmission:

[Stay calm. I’ll come back for you.]

He gave the faintest nod.

“Inside!”

The pirate dragged him toward the holding cells deep in the Jiaolong Ship. Fittingly for the river pirates’ flagship, it had its own dungeon.

They shoved him into a rusty-barred chamber. He pretended fright as his eyes roved the space. No Samrang.

“Where’s the woman who was with me?” Yegyeol asked a guard at the door.

The pirate ignored him, instead shoving in another prisoner roughly.

“Ah!”

Yegyeol stumbled to dodge — but froze when he recognized the figure.

Namgung Un…!

That split-second hesitation left him as the man’s unwilling cushion, slammed flat by his weight.

“Stay quiet, nobles,” the guard snickered, slamming the cell behind them.

Un, broad-shouldered and heavy with martial training, pinned Yegyeol under him. And Yegyeol’s eyes rolled wildly — not to plan an escape, but because of the guiding energy leaking steadily from Un’s proximity.

Throwing a starved tiger into a cage with its prey is one thing. But throwing a half-conscious guide in with an esper…!

Sweat beaded. His instincts stirred violently.

“Ugh.”

Feigning pain, he let out a groan to mask his panic. The nearly unconscious man’s lashes fluttered.

Namgung Un’s gaze, clouded with pain, scanned the cell — then realized he wasn’t lying on wood but on someone.

He jolted upright, shamefaced.

“I… apologies.”

Yegyeol didn’t meet his eyes. Whether from embarrassment or deliberate grace, the curve of his lowered lashes made him look pitiable. Despite capture so sudden, his composure remained startling.

“…Forgive me.”

Un’s lips, split and bloodied, formed the words. He looked as though he’d been brawling — yet still bore the aura of a noble. Some heritage could never be scuffed away.

“You seem unwell… Are you alright?”

Finally, with a pause, Yegyeol added deliberately:

“Namgung gongja.” (Young Lord Namgung)