TSBIRBV Ch 83

Chapter 83 The Price (6)

Yegyeol blinked his eyes open, tousle‑haired, and let out a dry laugh.

Upon waking, he found the blindfold removed and himself washed clean from head to toe—yet his hands were still bound.

No, seeing his hands gathered in front, it was clear he’d been tied anew.

Moving his arms in little looping motions like a child with a string game, he tugged; the more he pulled, the tighter it cinched. It was unmistakably the same knot used to restrain him midway through their coupling.

“Senior brother has a clever touch.”

Yegyeol was impressed. In this moment, he felt indulgent toward everything about his guide.

Above all, in his current state, it seemed impossible to sour his mood. Thanks to his senior brother pushing him without letting up, his whole body felt light enough to fly.

Just in case, he checked the chest Haryang had tormented so thoroughly—and found it restored to how it had been. Yegyeol felt a measure of relief.

If he had to pick something uncomfortable, it was his lower belly.

There was nothing inside, and yet it felt a little bloated. Or was it… empty?

If anything, the sensation was close to phantom pain. The reason his body suddenly felt ill at ease was obvious.

It was because of the coupling he had shared with Je Haryang.

Surrendering himself to rapture, thinking he wouldn’t mind if his body were worn away, at some point Yegyeol had fainted. Even as his consciousness receded, his body kept rocking. Then, when his senses returned in snatches, he panted, clutching his lower belly at Haryang’s thrusts battering his inner walls and gut.

His rear entrance was plugged with a shaft, and inside, he was filled with seed. Without even taking time to pull out, his senior brother had continued to devour him.

When rutting, he was like a beast in breeding season, stopping up the passage so not a single drop could spill.

He was wrung out until he could no longer tell pleasure from pain.

“Convincing senior brother went more smoothly than expected.”

He had laid the groundwork diligently, but he had never been wholly optimistic that things would go well.

The greatest variable had been Je Haryang himself.

His senior brother seemed to feel little aversion to joining with his disciple. Having reconfirmed this, Yegyeol furrowed his brow for a moment, then gathered his thoughts.

Still, unlike the first time when he’d yielded under the influence of a drug, this time the coupling had been mutually agreed. He had achieved more than his initial goal.

The only regret was that he had blacked out at the end.

“Did I faint because the guiding crossed its threshold?”

It was a hypothesis passed down at the Center almost like legend. As far as Yegyeol knew, it had not yet been proven.

He smacked his lips.

“Well, I’m as good as married now.”

Having practically gulped down his guide, how could Yegyeol meet anyone else?

There was nothing for it; he would have to take responsibility for his senior brother.

“But why… has it turned into senior brother defying the sect’s interdiction, rather than me?”

Yegyeol’s premise had been that, unable to cling to his senior brother, he would couple with Black Ghost; but the reality was that his senior brother, concealing his identity, was the one taking his disciple.

They say all roads lead to the capital, but Yegyeol’s feelings were complicated.

When he had first set his objective, he had thought achieving results within ten years would be remarkable—yet forget ten years; in less than half a year he had become intimate with his senior brother.

Considering this was the conservative martial world of the Central Plains, the speed was absurd.

“You’re awake.”

As if he had been waiting, Black Ghost appeared, a bowl steaming in his hands.

“I’ve brought something light to eat.”

“Thank you.”

He had been feeling a little peckish; delighted, Yegyeol started to reach out—and then hesitated.

Right, he ought to ask to have this untied.

Even though he must have shown signs of that thought, Haryang sat beside him as if not noticing the bound wrists.

“How is your body?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for washing me.”

“It’s only what should be done.”

Washing an unconscious person must have been quite a task, and yet Haryang made no show of it. He lifted the lid from the bowl. A nutty aroma pricked Yegyeol’s nose.

“Congee.”

There was quite a lot.

There was no way his senior brother didn’t know Yegyeol’s usual appetite; bringing so much made it clear he intended for him to finish it all.

“I made it myself.”

He even made it himself?

“Not a single grain will be left.”

Yegyeol steeled himself.

“Does the Black Spot have no cook?”

It was nice that Haryang had cooked personally, but he did not like the thought of Haryang wetting his hands on his account.

“With such a distinguished guest, how could I leave it to another?”

“Even so, that’s a bit—”

“There’s no need to feel burdened.”

His senior brother cut in firmly.

“The only reason I went to the kitchen myself is that I don’t trust food prepared by strangers.”

“Ah.”

With that much of a hint, Yegyeol could infer the rest.

“The Black Spot deals in precious goods; one cannot be too cautious.”

“Are there many who covet Lord Black Ghost’s position?”

With a face full of concern, Yegyeol asked.

What if he were working in a dangerous place like the black market to fill the vacancy left by handing the Cheonghae Trading Company over to him?

He knew, from cues, that it wasn’t likely—but lacking proof, his anxiety lingered.

“I haven’t bothered to count the vermin.”

Haryang laughed.

Even with his savage Black Ghost face, not his true appearance, somehow he inspired confidence.

“Now, enough about me. You should eat.”

Haryang raised the spoon.

“No matter how it looks, he intends to feed me himself, doesn’t he?”

Rolling his eyes, Yegyeol answered,

“If you untie this, I can feed myself.”

Lifting his hands in demonstration, he received the reply,

“I know how to bind, not how to undo.”

Liar.

Narrowing his eyes, Yegyeol said,

“But this looks like a new knot.”

“I cut the last one.”

“Then you can cut this one, too.”

At his request, Black Ghost’s lip curled at one corner.

“I’ll help after you’ve eaten.”

Having kept his distance with polite refusals, Yegyeol ended up docilely opening his mouth.

“Whatever mistakes senior brother makes, don’t let it show.”

But his resolve proved needless; his senior brother’s service was meticulous.

The congee seemed hot in the bowl, yet whenever it touched his lips, it was always cooled to a proper degree. He never pushed the spoon too soon before Yegyeol had swallowed. The worry that their teeth might click against the spoon proved laughable.

At first awkwardly receiving his senior brother’s care, Yegyeol adapted quickly, eating docilely, bite after bite. He tended to become a bit brazen before someone who indulged every whim.

It tickled strangely. Even the parents he had gained after being reborn had not coddled him so tenderly.

There were more adults who came and went from the Center to look after him, but he had always felt unmoored, with nowhere to set his heart.

A fine rain fell into the dry well crouched deep within him. The soil that had always drunk endlessly and dried was, quietly, beginning to moisten.

“Just this and we’re done.”

At his senior brother’s words, Yegyeol glanced at the bowl. At some point, the heaping congee had dwindled to the bottom.

Watching someone’s mouth while moving one’s hands must have been troublesome, and yet his senior brother completed the task carefully to the end.

His gaze upon Yegyeol brimmed with satisfaction, like someone watching a bird peck at feed.

“Thanks to you, I’ve eaten well.”

It felt as if a peaceful time had ended too quickly.

“You’re generous in your praise.”

“Truly.”

At his modesty, Yegyeol murmured, barely audible,

“To be honest, Lord Black Ghost, I thought your hands were far too much a warrior’s for cooking… I’m surprised it was so good.”

He felt sorry for his prejudice.

“My, my.”

One corner of his senior brother’s mouth lifted lazily.

“So you wanted to taste it yourself first? Because you thought it might be odd?”

It was a teasing question.

“No, nothing like that.”

Yegyeol waved his hands—then realized he’d moved both at once and clucked his tongue inwardly. He was growing accustomed to being bound.

At this rate, his adaptability and blithe nerves were almost frightening. If his senior brother left him tied and fed him like this every day, perhaps he would accept it.

“I will take you at your word.”

His senior brother declared grandly, and Yegyeol grinned.

Conversation with Black Ghost was quite different from talking with Je Haryang; and the distinction felt special, which pleased him.

Haryang fetched a blade from somewhere and cut the cord binding his hands. The material was quite soft—pricey cloth, it seemed—yet his senior brother showed no sign of stinginess.

The Je Haryang of Kunlun had been a frugal man.

“When I come to Sichuan next time—”

Rubbing his finally freed wrists, Yegyeol spoke up abruptly.

“May I come see Lord Black Ghost again then?”

If possible, he wanted to get a firm answer here and now. By tomorrow, his senior brother’s thoughts might change.

After all, what he had gotten his hands on was not Je Haryang but the shell of Black Ghost he wore.

A promise made under a false identity that could be discarded at any time was, to Yegyeol, almost everything.

No matter that it was Je Haryang—even being a cadre of the Black Spot was a rare status, he told himself, but the anxiety would not quite fade.

“What merchant would turn away a customer?”

A hateful answer.

Yegyeol’s eyes narrowed.

Even normally it was hard to read Black Ghost’s expressions, but now he was especially impassive.

“Of course, the Black Ghost of the Black Spot does not meet just anyone, but once a transaction is opened, the faith will be kept to the end.”

Only then did he feel somewhat relieved.

“Good.”

At his face brightening, unable to hide his feelings, Haryang unconsciously tugged his disciple closer.

For Black Ghost, the touch felt too affectionate. As Yegyeol swallowed his awkwardness, Black Ghost whispered low,

“Do not forget this, Young Master Mun.”

His hand upon Yegyeol’s shoulder tightened.

“That I have taken your secret as my price.”

And what that means.