TSBIRBV Ch 79

Chapter 79 The Price (2)

It was a voice chilling to the bone. Yet Yegyeol shivered in a way that felt almost good.

He hunched his shoulders slightly, looking like someone on the verge of flight. But his hand still clutched the doorknob.

‘Is he regretting this?’

Haryang’s eyes darkened as he quietly observed his disciple.

Even if he had given Yegyeol medicine to drive out his intoxication, this was still an act committed under clouded judgment. Overwhelmed as he had been, it was no surprise if Yegyeol now wished to pull away.

In that instant, Yegyeol laid his hand atop Black Ghost’s, which was gripping his sash.

It was consent.

As if he had only been waiting for this, Haryang turned him about and swept him up in his arms.

Startled, Yegyeol instinctively looped his hands around his senior brother’s neck, but otherwise stayed still as the man strode forward and set him down upon the bed.

“Ah…!”

Haryang exhaled softly against the nape of his neck.

The fragrance of warm skin pressed into his senses.

‘Sweet.’

The longer Yegyeol hesitated, the more his scent consumed Haryang.

‘So sweet.’

How had it come to this?

“The manner…”

Haryang lifted Yegyeol’s chin and whispered.

“…will be the same as the first time.”

The first time?

Before Yegyeol could ask, his senior brother blindfolded him with the sash he had taken.

“You may imagine whomever you like.”

The knot tied tightly behind his head sounded in his ears.

“Of course, it is fine if you summon in your heart the one who dwells there most deeply.”

As darkness closed his sight, Yegyeol clasped his hands obediently and asked,

“Why are you covering my eyes?”

If this was his senior brother’s taste, it would be troublesome. It wasn’t difficult to comply, but even once he wished to see the face of Je Haryang, who had entered so deeply into him.

“To leave space for imagination.”

His answer was smooth to the point of being sly, but Yegyeol did not believe it.

“…Don’t lie to me.”

‘Probably because he fears the disguise technique will weaken and he’ll revert to his true face.’

Hearing Yegyeol strike at the truth, Black Ghost let out a low laugh.

“…Because my body is terribly, shamefully unsightly.”

His fingers lifted Yegyeol’s chin.

“To the eyes of a delicately raised young master, it would only shock.”

The truth, used to veil a lie, was edged like a blade. Cloaked though it was in sarcasm, its tip pointed not outward, but inward toward himself.

Suddenly, Yegyeol thought perhaps the “Black Ghost” Je Haryang created was not wholly false.

“…It was shocking, yes.”

Yegyeol whispered quietly.

“I grew up in back alleys as a child. There, scars frightened everyone.”

Reaching out blindly, he intertwined his fingers with his senior brother’s. Though he could well have withdrawn, Black Ghost yielded his hand placidly. Clearly he felt a stir of curiosity, or interest, at Yegyeol’s words.

“So… I wanted to become a frightening person.”

“A frightening person.”

Haryang’s voice sank low.

“So when I first saw Lord Black Ghost’s scars, without thinking… I coveted them.”

Silence stretched long. Yet Yegyeol was not afraid in the least.

‘What of Black Ghost? Back when I lived in Sichuan, I grew accustomed to such scars far more often than to even seeing my senior brother.’

A small man. Scars everywhere. A voice, impertinent and biting. Pretending to be the sinister boss of the black market, yet never causing Yegyeol real harm.

Rather—was he not the one who had nearly given his life, believing Yegyeol about to die, and saved him? Such kindness was unrivaled.

“Was I too impertinent?”

Yegyeol’s hand, slipping slackly downward, Haryang caught firmly.

“What is wrong with impertinence?”

His tone was dry, but a trace of humor lingered there.

“In any case, Young Master Mun, you purchased my night… and what passes between us here will never leave this room.”

He pressed his lips against Yegyeol’s fingertips.

With a start, Yegyeol trembled at the guiding,* that prickled straight to his lower belly.

‘Ah…’

He had once heard: when a guide was deeply stirred emotionally, synchronization could occur. That the quality of guiding could alter drastically. Yegyeol had treated that as idle theory. The phenomenon was too rare.

And yet —

‘No one spoke of it feeling like this!’

A wave of cool mint drifted through him, leaving his chest clutching and tight. It felt like seasickness, but instead of nausea, it was as though his heart were being squeezed tenderly. For some strange reason, tears welled.

It hurt.

‘No—’

He instantly denied his own thought. It wasn’t pain.

Rather, so many layers of emotion pressed into him all at once that he could not distinguish them, only lump them together.

Experiencing emotional transference for the first time in his life, Yegyeol glimpsed—clumsily, incompletely—the world as Haryang felt it.

He wanted to ask: why did joy, sorrow, reassurance, even fear all feel only like torment to him?

“Ahk…!”

Before he could gather himself, Yegyeol cried out, feeling teeth at his neck. Lost in distraction, it struck him like an ambush.

Haryang drew the hand he had kissed, pulling Yegyeol against him. Helpless, Yegyeol yielded. When his sleeve slipped open, the skin beneath was bared, and Haryang’s nose pressed there, inhaling deeply.

“Mmm…”

His low exhale sent chills racing down Yegyeol’s spine.

‘Does he like my scent?’

If nothing else, it was certain his senior brother himself carried a fine fragrance now. The Je Haryang of before smelled only of iron and cold eyes, but now he carried a luxurious aroma. Subtle, nearly imperceptible unless inhaled deeply, but once taken in, it tangled together until it was impossible to tell what it was. Musk, sandalwood, aloeswood… perhaps all at once, layered into something indistinct. A fragrance that suited this senior brother brimming with secrets.

“Ugh…”

His robe, bereft of its sash, slipped away loosely. His bare shoulder shivered at the brush of cold air.

“Do not be too tense. As before, I will be gentle.”

Yegyeol was glad his eyes were covered. If he met his senior brother’s gaze now, he could not have hidden his suspicion. Their first encounter had indeed begun gently — but their coupling had hardly ended with gentleness. Overcome by pleasure, he had accepted even rougher motions. At the end, Haryang had even imbued his inner power to wrench Yegyeol’s body and mind fully awake. Excessively dogged, for nothing more than purging a poison.

“Ahh! Not there—!”

As if sensing Yegyeol’s inner protest, a strange ache sprang from his chest. He arched backward, clenching his senior brother’s hand tighter.

Haryang slid his fingers around a nipple, lightly pinching, and stroked his chest. There was little flesh, but somehow that only made it feel nearer to the heart itself. Painful, almost — but Yegyeol still felt a crude sort of pleasure.

‘Guiding… really…’

He scrunched his nose. As if at the signal, Haryang lowered his head and seized his chest between his lips. The roughened tip of his tongue grazed the sensitive flesh, making Yegyeol recoil involuntarily.

Such impudence.

But with no intent of letting him go, Haryang gently pressed him down upon the bed, himself astride him, and worried at his chest.

“Mmngh, hhht!”

His chest was drenched. Not quite ticklish pain, not quite agony — something light, strange, unsettling. Yegyeol had never consciously thought of his nipples before, and the sensations unsettled him.

“Th-there, it’s strange, ahh…!”

“If Young Master Mun dislikes it, shall I leave this place untouched? Though it may alter how your robes fit — are you sure that is wise?”

Black Ghost, at last lifting his mouth, twisted his other nipple idly as he spoke.

“Your ever-present bodyguard may wonder…”

“N-no, ahh—! It can’t—!”

Though the pinch was light, his nipple was reddened, seething at its own sensitivity. Haryang, perversely amused, pressed further.

“And if they ask why only one side is raised, how will you answer?”

“Th-that…”

Eyes covered, Yegyeol opened and closed his mouth helplessly, shaking his head. No reason came.

‘And why should I need one? Since when must an esper explain being suckled by his guide? If I told anyone at the Center, they’d tell me not to whine.’ Samrang already knew all and pretended ignorance anyway.

Yet still, Yegyeol pushed his untouched chest forward.

“H-here too…”

‘But it seems my senior brother enjoys this.’

Inwardly, he praised his own brave decision. In truth, he simply wanted both touched.

“While I open you below, you can touch them yourself.”

“…What?”

His voice slipped out, truly flustered.

“It will be a game between us. Until I have opened you fully, until I have thrust myself in… you must make them match.”

Haryang’s hand grasped his rear firmly, parting him. Without sight, Yegyeol was utterly defenseless, and he gasped. Even thrashing instinctively, his body was wholly subdued. His senior brother’s breath hovered close enough to brush his lips.

“Make them the same.”