TSBIRBV Ch 78

Chapter 78 The Price (1)

Yegyeol bit his lip and lowered his head.

“The person whom Young Master Mun said one must never harbor desire for… is it your senior brother?”

There was no prudence or gravity in Black Ghost’s* question. It was closer to a dogged curiosity that wanted to pry apart Yegyeol’s flesh and bones just to extract the answer he sought.

“…I…”

Closing his eyes tightly, Yegyeol’s lips moved a few times soundlessly before he dropped his head.

Haryang’s gaze fell upon the nape of his neck. His hair was short, so the pale nape was laid bare.

It was skin that stirred thirst.

“Sometimes silence itself becomes an answer. Hah… you tread a most difficult path.”

Spoken words that, at first glance, seemed like genuine worry.

“Even those wretched in the heterodox factions rarely lust after their martial brothers.”

Yet if one listened more closely, a shade of sordid laughter was mixed into the words. Not the stateliness of Kunlun’s great disciple, but more like a wandering mercenary of the demonic sects.

‘But those people… when they find a weakness in their lord, their master, or any higher-up, don’t they bite without hesitation and betray them, seizing power and wealth? That is the nature of the demonic way, is it not?’

Yegyeol grumbled inwardly.

“Interesting…”

Haryang fell silent. His eyes sank into shadow as if lost in thought.

Yegyeol soothed his parched insides and waited.

“Just a little, just a little longer.”

Even though his senior brother was reacting to the foreshadowing he had seeded thus far, impatience gnawed at him. Yet even if his insides howled, now was the time to wait.

“Why have you come to me?”

At last, Black Ghost broke the silence. It did not seem like a mere test.

“I am aware that you are quite close with Young Master Namgung Un.”

Why is Namgung Un being brought up here?

“He is a friend.”

Yegyeol answered decisively. He admitted that espers* were generally like rutting dogs. But even so, they only ever clung to a single guide at a time.

Some scholars argued that this was akin to the imprinting of ducklings. But no one had confirmed the conditions by which an esper latched onto a guide. It was not always the first guide they met, or even the one with the highest matching rate — an esper clung to only one person, unshakably.

‘In other words, destiny.’

Once, Yegyeol had sneered that a guide was nothing more than a leash, but now he thought brazenly otherwise.

Perhaps sensing his determination, his senior brother’s voice grew even more intimate.

“Still, would you not feel safer with a young master of the Five Great Houses, rather than some vagrant from back alleys whose origins one cannot know?”

“Whether or not he agrees, he is not an option.”

Yegyeol shook his head with unyielding resolve.

“If you feel uneasy tying yourself to a personal acquaintance, then I can find you a bed partner elsewhere. It need not be a courtesan — there are always those who seek merely to slake desire without strings attached.”

Yegyeol had come here precisely because he expected Black Ghost to agree readily, and so he listened to this without much surprise.

“I would even choose someone with a clean past and proper manners for you.”

“It’s useless. Not because I don’t want to — but because it is impossible for me to have relations with anyone else.”

At Yegyeol’s words, Black Ghost’s expression visibly shifted. It was the look one gave to a naïve child.

“You have been sheltered, I see. So innocent.”

Like a teacher reciting the Thousand Character Classic to a pupil, he explained slowly and patiently.

“Even without sharing hearts, bodies can easily be joined.”

Rising from his seat, Black Ghost retrieved a small box from the shelves and set it before him.

“If arousal fails, then just as you did with me, you may use medicine.”

With a gesture he bid him open it, and Yegyeol lifted the lid. Inside lay an ornate opium pipe,* exquisitely crafted.

“As an important client of Black Spot,* if you wish, I can instruct you in the blend with the least side effects.”

In his subtle tone, Haryang seemed the very image of a leader in the massive black market stretching across the central plains. Who could look at Black Ghost and think of him as Je Haryang, disciple of Kunlun?

Gazing at the pipe in silence, Yegyeol gave a bitter smile.

“…I thank you for your consideration, Lord Black Ghost. But I have a fatal problem.”

“A problem?”

Haryang’s eyes narrowed. The idea that a domain existed which he did not grasp in regard to his disciple was deeply displeasing.

“I… as I mentioned before, I suffer great anxiety at physical contact with others. Especially when it comes unexpectedly, without my consent, the terror only grows worse.”

He stole a glance at his senior brother, but whether it was the mask covering his face, or the scars marring his features, his expression was indecipherable.

Without hesitation, Yegyeol cast out the next bait.

“Do you recall the day I first came to Black Spot?”

“…The incident with Geoakwangsan.*”

Haryang murmured the name of the demonic martial artist who had raged, holding Yegyeol hostage. Normally he forgot incidents once they were dealt with, but since the man had touched his disciple, the memory stood sharp and clear — too vivid to feign ignorance.

“That day, shamefully, I clung to you, Lord Black Ghost.”

“Do you remember?” he asked softly, and Haryang gave the faintest nod.

“The moment our skin touched… I did not feel horror. I felt relief. That was why I did what I did.”

Yegyeol’s lowered lashes trembled faintly. With a fragile, sorrow-filled expression, he whispered:

“You were the first person other than my senior brother who made me feel that way.”

It was no lie.

For Black Ghost was his senior brother.

“The thought that I could lean on you without revulsion, fear, or dread — that is why I deemed you my senior brother.”

“To rely upon… is it.”

Haryang repeated the words as though turning them over in his mouth. Yegyeol lifted imploring eyes to him.

“That is why it must be you, Lord Black Ghost.”

It was not difficult to feign the bewilderment of one who had just discovered the intoxication of men’s embraces. After all, the way espers were enthralled by their guides was no rare thing.

But his senior brother had to know the weight of this truth: the meaning in Yegyeol being able to share touch without disgust.

“I have no other choice.”

The hurdle of “not betraying one’s sect brothers” had been cleared more easily than thought. But that was merely because his senior brother conveniently split himself into Je Haryang and Black Ghost. And Yegyeol, too, had no reason not to use that duality.

“Do not decide so easily. The Central Plains are wider than you think. Another person may yet exist.”

“So then, am I to press my skin against everyone I meet, just to see?”

Yegyeol let out a hollow laugh.

“…I could not endure it. I am far too weak a wretch.”

His voice was thick with resignation.

“I… the pain…”

As if the thought alone overwhelmed him, Yegyeol curled into himself, words breaking sharply apart.

Through the cracks of his faltering speech, emotions he did not name leaked out. Straightening once more, he faced his senior brother with a paler face than before.

“I do not want the number of people who know my secret to grow any larger.”

The man sat watching him, expression unreadable. But if nothing else, Haryang could never turn his face from Yegyeol’s suffering. Finally, Black Ghost spoke.

“I will think on it.”

Think? Nonsense. Yegyeol had no intention of giving Je Haryang that luxury.

“You told me yourself, did you not?”

Clenching his fist, Yegyeol called to Black Ghost’s back as he moved to leave.

“That if I truly wished to keep it hidden from my senior brother, I should go through Black Spot to make the request.”

Haryang could not help but halt. Yes, those were his own words — when he had wanted to hold every thought, every step of his disciple in his grasp. He had not expected those very words to shackle him now.

All the pieces meshed too well, sending his disciple straight into his arms.

‘Why is it that you…’

No matter how he tried to push him toward light, toward better places, Yegyeol was always swept back to where Haryang stood. Like waves rolling endlessly to shore.

Where had it gone wrong?

“How will you pay the price?”

At last, Haryang spoke. There was but one reason not to do this — but countless to justify it.

“Price… what do you mean?”

Even the surging euphoria could not withstand such words.

“Black Spot provides whatever the customer desires, so long as the proper price is paid.”

His voice, lowering subtly, had become that of a merchant.

“If you want something special, you must show proper sincerity in kind.”

Something special. A commodity. Yegyeol let the word roll on his tongue, his face stiffening.

“Is there something you want?”

Almost as if he had been waiting, his senior brother replied.

“I will take Young Master Mun’s secret as payment.”

Oh. Yegyeol squeezed his eyes shut. His insides bubbled, roiling. He had not expected ‘How could a man buy another man?’ from him, but neither had he foreseen him couching the matter in open terms of prostitution.

‘This guide… I want to make him cry.’

What kind of nerve did it take to speak of “the price of flesh” in front of an esper already looking to devour him whole? To Yegyeol, it was maddeningly provocative.

“And what worth has a secret you already know?”

“Why, it is the very vulnerability of the Lord of the Cheonghae Trading Company.* Until now I kept it out of loyalty. But if you accept this transaction, I will deem it merchandise.”

Black Ghost’s lips curled in a crooked smile.

“I cannot endanger the trading company. It is not mine to dispose of.”

Yegyeol answered weakly. In truth, that trading company belonged to his senior brother himself. Though Black Ghost implied he might exploit or sell that weakness, Yegyeol had no faith in those words. He knew his brother merely wished for him to reject out of unease.

“A merchant does not make losing bargains.”

His tone had the ring of a true villain.

“What will you do?”

Yegyeol squeezed his eyes shut once more. He calculated how long he should show hesitation for his senior brother to believe in his torment, but in the end, abandoned it. He had obtained what he wanted — so why did he feel so desperate to flee?

“Then… I will take that as agreement.”

Stammering out the words, Yegyeol rose. There was no reason for tension, and yet his legs trembled faintly.

Unsteady, he tottered toward the door, pulled the handle, and opened it. The light of the corridor stabbed his eyes.

‘First, I must find Samrang…’

Then, suddenly. From behind his shoulder, a scarred hand pressed the door closed. Yegyeol stiffened. Black Ghost locked it, the metallic click echoing ominously. With his other hand, he drew Yegyeol against him and tugged gently at his sash until it came loose.

Though it seemed he had barely touched it, Yegyeol had no idea how the knot had come undone. A husky voice, rasping like steel, brushed against his ear.

“You must first inspect the goods, after all.”