TSBIRBV Ch 105

Chapter 105 Mission Complete (1)

The shameless question—could it just be told plainly, like before?—rose to the throat and slipped back down.

Wanting the easy way, Yegyeol pulled a woeful face.

Well, when had Je Haryang ever moved as Yegyeol wished?

Just when it seemed they would begin living together, he was tucked away in Kunlun; when plotting to stick close as a cheerful jobless shadow, a trading consortium was thrust upon him; acting like a pure senior brother who didn’t even know what desire was in his true body, and yet in the Black Ghost’s guise, melting a person with a single finger!

“No—hold on. That last one gets a pass.”

Tears welled and the chin tipped up, but Yegyeol steeled himself. He was an esper raised strong. Trials a guide set were, of course, to be cleared.

Even if the task were to pluck a star from the sky, or to find the city Atlantis lost at sea.

“Is there a reason senior brother won’t tell?”

“Doesn’t everyone wish to hide their unbecoming sides?”

“This swindler…!”

Yegyeol nearly rolled his eyes at Je Haryang.

Haryang blinked, then laughed at the disciple, head planted on his shoulder, tapping the table with a little fist.

So vexed he didn’t know what to do—and yet groaning to hold it in—Yegyeol was endearing.

“Strange.”

“What is?”

To Yegyeol’s lifted‑chin question, Haryang murmured with softened lips,

“Never thought, in this life, I’d speak of such things to someone.”

A story from far too long ago, now so distant it felt meaningless.

Thus Haryang had thought the events of then had lost all weight; even remembering them had become waste, to be forgotten one day.

“Why?”

“To one who already knew, there was no reason to bare my heart; to those with the right to hear, there were none.”

Yet, pulling those days out one by one with Yegyeol’s arrival, it felt stranger than expected.

“Day by day, scrabbling to endure, I had thought it all wretched and sordid; now, it seems I was quite earnest.”

“True.”

Yegyeol hugged him tight.

“It was hard enough to keep yourself, and still you looked after me. It was senior brother who sent that Beggar Sect elder, wasn’t it?”

“I only wished that you might take root and live wherever you wished; I thought then that would bring me peace.”

“For a Six‑Knot elder to move—surely that cost no small coin; how can it be waved away as nothing?”

To Yegyeol’s mind, even a guide needed a handbook.

For instance, “How to take credit when doing things that aren’t a given,” or “How to sort an ungrateful esper for recycling.”

At worst, rote‑learning would be needed—at this rate—

“At the time, wealth meant little to me.”

“See? There he goes again.”

Forcing down the hand that wanted to clutch his hair, Yegyeol drew Haryang into an embrace and patted his back. Senior brother seemed puzzled at the gesture, but didn’t push him away.

“Now—repeat after me.”

Haryang nodded, as if to say: go on.

“It cost a lot, but it was fine because I spent it for you.”

‘It cost a lot, but it was fine because I spent it for you’…?”

Even as he obeyed, Haryang wore a face that wondered whether this was right.

“Well done.”

Stifling a complicated expression, Yegyeol clasped his hand tight.

“What’s already spent can’t be helped, but at least let it weigh on the other a little. Understood? Take credit. Take credit.”

He longed for the secrets of rote‑learning. Yegyeol had never so much as glanced at cram‑master specials; he had planned to enter university on an esper special track.

Who could have known that idleness then would bring such regret now.

“It truly wasn’t the money I begrudged.”

“It’s the heart that’s precious. The heart.”

At Yegyeol’s unflinching gaze, Haryang closed his mouth.

Tears did not fall, but the eyes were indeed heavy and deep.

“What drives me mad is not knowing that heart of yours—that you’d spend such money and not begrudge it for me. You thought so deeply of me; all that time I fretted alone, thinking senior brother had no interest in me.”

Yegyeol thumped his chest.

“Perhaps senior brother doesn’t begrudge it at all, but I—I do.”

“Such…”

Haryang lowered his eyes.

On a sharply lined face, the unusually lush lashes cast their shade. Perhaps for that reason, though it was the face of a living man, it held the depth of an ink painting.

“Isn’t it against fair play to deploy a beauty ploy because you’ve nothing to say?”

Yegyeol tidied his complicated mood. He likely had no idea; to blame senior brother would only turn this into a confession of a hidden heart.

Haryang slowly raised his head and met his gaze.

The black eyes, showing his stirrings raw, seemed more alive than at any point since their reunion.

“Too long I wondered what you thought, what you’d say; it is good to hear it thus.”

“Is it very different from what you imagined?”

Yegyeol winced. Stirred by Haryang’s past, he’d let his temper show too plainly.

“…Very.”

“In what way?”

Pouncing with the question, Yegyeol brightened his eyes.

He was more than ready to note Je Haryang’s words and be reborn as the ideal disciple.

“The vague you I imagined… always resented me.”

“Ah…”

Yegyeol froze.

“Seems I kept turning you into an unhappy child, needing an excuse to blame myself. For that, I am truly sorry—and ashamed.”

“How could I resent such a senior brother?”

Taking Haryang’s face and meeting his eyes, Yegyeol spoke clearly,

“I always revere you.”

This much, surely, was acceptable; even so, Yegyeol’s heart beat fast with nerves.

If only a love unmatched could be shown—but even if the heart were laid in hand, human feeling is what cannot be grasped.

Even for one who could summon lightning at his fingertips—only human still—the best Yegyeol could do was put his feelings into words.

Words could not encompass all he felt; distortions or misunderstandings might arise; even so, he had to speak.

Else the other would never know.

Stroking his hair without end, Haryang folded his disciple into his arms. A hold with no path of escape by one’s own power—far from tender.

“I… for you…”

What to do?

A long, deep sigh spilled from Haryang’s lips.

A prisoner trapped in arms heavy as shackles and thick as a mire smiled in delight.

For as much as Yegyeol could not escape, so too would his gaoler never leave the prisoner’s side.

—

“Baembaem, see anything?”

At Yegyeol’s whisper, the golden snake flicked its tail toward the next room.

They were in the heart of enemy ground.

Having visited several Hangzhou trading houses in recent days, Yegyeol received Zhang Qi’s invitation. The man hinted broadly that if Yegyeol came to the Wu‑Sam Consortium’s manor, he would be lavishly entertained.

Waiting for Zhang Qi to gather dye artisans—prodding him along with legwork here and there—Yegyeol, with Haryang’s tacit leave, snapped up the invitation.

Sitting still to wait was not his style.

“Sent him to take a peek next door, and since he came straight back, looks like someone’s there.”

Speaking for Haryang’s ear, who sat beside him, Yegyeol feigned pressing an ear so close to the wall it might stick.

Sending Baembaem to scout, and now listening at the wall—this performance was for Haryang. At this distance he could feel the electric signals in bodies, and with an esper’s hearing he could catch sounds beyond the wall.

Watching his sly disciple sit proper, Haryang said,

“There are several who have not learned martial arts waiting.”

After checking the tea’s scent, Haryang poured out the cup onto the floor and added,

“Five in all.”

“Really?”

Playing at learning this first from him, Yegyeol glanced back and saw the senior brother had emptied even his cup onto the floor.

“Judging by how they kept the tea, to drink it would only spoil the palate.”

“Trying to play at refinement—buying dear tea and not drinking it—no wonder it’s a mess. Still, what they serve as wine should be decent.”

Scoffing at Crooked Ear as a snob, Yegyeol glued himself to Haryang’s side.

“He must feel safer with me.”

It was dangerous: rather than feel displeasure at Haryang emptying the cups as he pleased, he forgot where he was—and grinned, in the heart of the enemy.

“You did wish to come, but if you want to turn back even now, say the word.”

Haryang nudged him lightly. After hearing his past, senior brother found the very situation of Yegyeol facing Zhang Qi distasteful.

It was a sign overprotection was about to surge. But the party concerned was unruffled.

“If a bragging contest were held back home, could beat that senior who went to Türkiye.”

If he won and took the prize, he would buy premium beef for senior brother; a pity this was the Central Plains.

“Ha ha. Kept you long.”

The door opened; Zhang Qi appeared. Though he’d already sensed his approach, the lack of even a knock from a man who did not keep basic manners was displeasing.

The strange thing: Crooked Ear no longer felt frightening.

“Is it because senior brother is in the same room?”

“The head chef took such pains to honor a rare guest… Boys, bring it in.”

At the two claps, the food came in.

Savory, spicy, sweet aromas teased the nose; but what caught Yegyeol’s eye was not the dishes on the tray—it was the bearers.

“Children?”