OGHOU C29

Chapter 29

From early morning, Cheongyeon was busy preparing meals for the guests. Having shouldered the work alone for some time, his body felt fatigued, and today, for some reason, he was particularly drained of strength.

On top of that, last night’s dream had been unsettling. Lately, he had been dreaming more often, and the setting was always the same: that house deep in the mountains.

In those dreams, Sehwa’s condition would improve only to worsen again. On some days they would simply spend time together, sweetly and tenderly entwined like lovers; on others, Sehwa would collapse into sickness or languish in relentless melancholy.

Cheongyeon could not fathom why Sehwa’s state remained so inconsistent. He only knew that whenever, like last night, Sehwa was unwell in his dreams, the aftereffects lingered in his body well into the following day.

Perhaps it was because of that—his head throbbed again, and he closed his eyes for a moment, then reopened them.

‘Did I take my medicine when I got up…?’

No, he must have been too distracted and forgotten. This accursed, fragile body… destined to never live a life free of remedies.

Cheongyeon muttered as he pressed the knife firmly into the carrot before him.

“Aigo, Mina… instead of slicing carrots, I ought to be slicing you instead.”

“Mina? Who is that?”

“Ah!”

Startled, he spun around, finding Jeha standing by the kitchen door. Apparently, Jeha hadn’t expected him to react so explosively, for the boy, flustered, rushed forward.

“Are you all right? I didn’t mean to frighten you, innkeeper!”

“I’m fine, fine.”

Cheongyeon exhaled, pressing down the pounding in his chest, and smiled at him. Of course—this boy had lived with a master whose senses were exceptionally keen. Naturally, he wouldn’t guess such a small thing would startle someone like Cheongyeon.

Jeha grasped his hand and pressed down firmly on certain pressure points, then suddenly asked,

“But who is Mina?”

“Someone. Just someone I know.”

“If you want to cut them up like a carrot, then surely they must bear a deep grudge against you? If so, I can take your place—”

“No! Absolutely not!”

Alarmed that he might decide upon some useless act of vengeance, Cheongyeon raised his voice. Yet Jeha, with an earnest, resolute expression, said firmly,

“If this Mina is the one who destroyed your dantian,^1 then I will not sit idly by.”

Watching the boy declare that he would forgive no one who threatened the innkeeper’s safety—even if it were not that person specifically—made Cheongyeon’s headache worsen.

‘Now why is my dantian even coming up here? Well… strictly speaking, since Mina is the author, she was the one who destroyed it. But let’s just drop this conversation about Mina.’

Cheongyeon hastily diverted the topic.

“What brings you to the kitchen? So early in the day?”

At the question, Jeha’s face stiffened. He hesitated, then replied,

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing.”

“It really is nothing!”

“Come on, tell me, child.”

“When are you going to stop calling me child…?”

“Ah, sorry. The word just slips out on my tongue.”

Though Jeha stuck out his lips in protest, he quietly continued rubbing Cheongyeon’s hands. His behavior was so endearing that Cheongyeon was tempted to tease him further, but he restrained himself.

“Yesterday with the young master—was that the end of it? He didn’t say anything else?”

“…No.”

“Why quarrel over something like that? So what if he mistook you for my son?”

“……”

At that, Jeha’s expression grew even stiffer. Realizing his mistake, Cheongyeon shut his mouth.

‘His late parents surely carry a special meaning for him. If, on top of that, someone lumped him with a stranger and called them father and son, then of course it would sting.’

Though he had warned Jeha to be watchful of Dokyeong just in case, Cheongyeon hadn’t expected him to quarrel with such emotion, and it left him disquieted. He began to wonder if, by planting prejudices against Dokyeong too early, he had contributed to this. After all, Dokyeong was still young too.

“Jeha.”

“Innkeeper, I am not…”

“Hm?”

With his head bowed low, Jeha’s voice dwindled to a murmur.

“I am not your son, not your child, and not anyone’s pushover.”

“Mm… that’s true.”

Had he perhaps treated the boy too thoughtlessly, always dismissing him as a child? Hearing Jeha’s dejected tone, Cheongyeon quietly reflected on his own behavior.

That afternoon, Cheongyeon went to the market to purchase some needed ingredients. He had taken his medicine, yet his body still felt unwell.

‘Could it be stress?’

Indeed—stress must be the root of all ailments. Perhaps, after this guest departed, it would be best to close the inn for a short while.

While he was shopping, a sudden crunching sound to his side made him raise his head.

There, standing nearby, was a man who appeared to be in his late thirties or forties, biting into an apple. His expression lay somewhere between smirk and smile, his gaze fixed directly on Cheongyeon—as though recognizing him.

‘What is this? I’ve never seen him before.’

He searched his memory, but no such face came to mind.

Why then did he feel so familiar? As if he were meeting someone known from long ago.

As the man playfully tossed the apple up and down in his hand, smiling at him, an eerie sensation crept into Cheongyeon. His eyes trailed lower, and then he froze—

Hanging from the man’s waist was a black mask. Two small horns jutted from the forehead, and sharp teeth were painted along the sealed mouth. Ordinary enough in design, perhaps—but the instant he saw it, a shiver ran down his spine.

‘What…?’

This was not a reaction of thought but of the body. He was certain he had never seen such a mask before, yet his heart thundered violently.

Could it be… someone Sehwa had known?

In a voice low enough only the man might hear, Cheongyeon spoke.

“Who are…”

“I never expected to encounter you in a place like this.”

The man’s low voice cut across his words, sending Cheongyeon’s pulse racing even faster. For some reason, his entire being reacted violently, though he did not know why. Forcing his thoughts into order, he asked again,

“Who are you?”

“Are you pretending not to know me, or have you truly lost your memory?”

“……”

“To see you walking about, so hale and whole—clearly, you are faring far better than I expected. By now, I thought you’d be little more than a broken husk.”

He knows.

Not only about Sehwa, but also the condition of this body.

Drenched in the oppressive aura emanating from the man, powerless against his own body’s reaction, Cheongyeon froze. And in that instant, a remembered voice seemed to echo in his ears—

‘When one harbors malice… it shows.’

That was what Muho had said, the day he carried Cheongyeon on his back from the gambling hall.

Instinct told him plainly: this man harbored malice toward him.

When he stiffly raised a foot to step closer, suddenly a throng of passersby swept between them. By the time they had passed, the man was gone.

‘Where did he go?’

Frantic, Cheongyeon scanned the crowd. At last, he spotted his retreating back in the distance.

The man walked lightly, quickly—as if moving at twice the pace of others.

Almost without realizing it, Cheongyeon began to follow. Thoughts of danger flashed across his mind, but curiosity burned stronger.

‘Could he be the one who destroyed this body’s dantian?’

Keeping a cautious distance, Cheongyeon trailed him.

The man wove through bustling crowds, turning corner after corner. Where was he headed? This route led toward the entertainment district.

It was no easy task to keep pace with him. Cheongyeon’s breathing grew rougher, his strength waning, yet he forced himself to accelerate so he would not lose him. Still, the gap widened gradually.

After one more turn, the man’s figure vanished altogether. Exhausted, Cheongyeon steadied his breath, scanning around. That was when a large pavilion building caught his eye.

‘A gibu house?’^2

It was the grandest, most renowned pleasure hall in all of Chengdu. Staring up at the building, Cheongyeon could hear laughter spilling through the cracks in the windows.

‘Did he go inside?’

With wary steps, he ventured in.

Though it was still broad daylight, the interior was full of patrons. Searching intently, he must have looked suspicious, for several courtesans approached him with bright smiles.

“You’re welcome here,” they greeted lightly.

Face pale, Cheongyeon asked,

“Did a man just come in? Alone?”

“Sir? Far too many men just came in for us to know. What sort of man?”

“Well… he was in his thirties or forties, wore white, and had a black mask hanging from his belt…”

The courtesans puzzled, frowning in thought.

“A black mask? Never saw anyone like that. Did you, sister?”

“No, I didn’t either.”

One turned back to him with a cheerful giggle.

“Don’t linger at the doorway. Come in—play awhile, and look around at ease.”

Wrong place?

With a sigh, Cheongyeon shook his head.

“No, never mind. I’ll be on my way.”

He turned and left the pavilion.

‘My body clearly reacted to him first.’

Ever since he had transmigrated, he had never experienced such a thing. The feeling might be called fear, perhaps—but it was not mere fear. It was closer to loathing, to revulsion.

Weary, drained, he trudged back to the inn. Already, his body wasn’t well, and the chase had only worsened his stamina. His limbs trembled from fatigue.

Finally arriving outside the inn, he paused at the entrance to steady his breath. His head spun so much he doubted he could make it up to his room.

“Innkeeper?”

Jeha, apparently lingering on the first floor, rushed over with a shocked look.

“Innkeeper! You’re bleeding, your nose—blood!”

Indeed, something was flowing down beneath his nose. Wiping it with his hand, he saw the blood smeared across his palm. Desperately, he plugged his nostrils with his sleeve.

Not again… not in front of this child.

Slapping his own cheek, he struggled to stay conscious, but his vision began to spin. Panting, he finally collapsed where he stood.

When he opened his eyes again—he was standing once more in the snowy mountains of that dream.

Footnotes:

1. Dantian (단전 / 丹田): In Taoist and martial traditions, the “elixir field,” an energy center in the body associated with vital qi. To have it destroyed is to lose martial ability and vitality.

2. Gibu house (기루 / 妓樓): A large establishment for entertainment and pleasure, often including drinking, music, and courtesans. Comparable to a high-class brothel or pleasure quarters in historical settings.