TSBIRBV Ch 131

Chapter 131 A Stolen Kiss (8)

Je Haryang had been born in the spring. And soon, that time would arrive again.

‘I always had to watch from afar as my Senior Brother was celebrated… but this time, I’ll be front row!’

Though only after being reborn had Yegyeol managed to escape the corner seat of a mere spectator, he was thrilled at the chance to congratulate Haryang in person.

“May I accompany you?”

“Un?”

At Namgung Un’s suggestion, Yegyeol looked back in puzzlement.

“When choosing a gift, isn’t it best to hear a variety of opinions?”

It was a fair point.

“…Well, I am a merchant by trade, so I can’t say I know what martial artists like.”

Just in case, Yegyeol laid down that cover once again—that he was only a merchant. He was still impressed by how his Senior Brother had hidden his identity through the Black Ghost’s mouth. Better to lay the groundwork in advance.

“If I can borrow Un’s discernment, I’d be more than grateful.”

When Yegyeol nodded cheerfully, Namgung Un brightened.

“Thanks to Yegyeol seeking me out, I’ve been spared my lonely state once again. That alone brings me joy.”

Watching Namgung Un’s delighted expression, a trace of pity flickered in Yegyeol’s eyes before fading.

Who knew where the Sky-Piercing Swallows he had brought from Anhui had gone—but clearly, Namgung Un did not care for dining alone.

‘Come to think of it, for the young lord of the Namgung clan to eat solitary meals would reflect poorly on his family’s dignity.’

He truly had little tact. As Samrang had said, anyone affiliated with the orthodox sects of Cheonghae would want to meet Namgung Un, yet the sight of him left alone was enough to tug at one’s heart.

Perhaps this was the common trait of Guides across the world.

Still, considering Namgung Un’s cautious nature, Yegyeol could understand if he disliked throwing his weight around by using his position to control others.

“By the way, it seems the person you intend to gift is a martial artist.”

Yegyeol glanced sideways at Samrang, who had been unusually quiet, then nodded.

“I’ve heard he learned the sword in his youth. He works now in a trading office, so he rarely wields a blade, but he never neglects his training.”

Though Yegyeol had never personally seen Haryang practice, months of experience had taught him that one did not need to witness to know.

The strength that could overwhelm a Guided Esper could not spring from nowhere.

‘No… it’s not just my stamina. It must be the guiding, and the pleasure that makes me faint so easily…’

Even with Red Thunder, the journey between Hangzhou and Cheonghae had not been easy. Yet Yegyeol had not once fallen ill with so much as a cold. Clearly, it was not that he was frail—it was that his Senior Brother was overwhelmingly strong.

“Do you have any gift in mind?”

“Hmm.”

At Namgung Un’s question, Yegyeol thought for a moment.

“I considered a tassel for the sword hilt… but it might be cumbersome in motion.”

Samrang thought to herself, No, it wouldn’t, but she didn’t interject.

“Then how about a cloth for polishing the sword? In the smithing street they sell ointments that keep steel from rusting.”

“Let’s go have a look first.”

Yegyeol let Namgung Un lead the way toward Seonyeong’s market street.

It was the most bustling street in Cheonghae, and since it connected to foreign lands across the desert, exotic goods abounded.

At the smithing street they looked over cloths and polishes, but nothing struck Yegyeol as right. They had to move on.

“What about this?”

Namgung Un showed him a leather belt with sturdy ties for securing a scabbard. The craftsmanship was excellent.

“If your recipient uses the sword often, this would be useful.”

“Though he rarely carries it… Still, it does seem a fine piece.”

Namgung Un kept his promise to lend his eye, choosing sincerely, but nothing resonated with Yegyeol.

Unconsciously, it seemed he wanted to choose every detail himself.

“Does nothing please you?”

Sensing Yegyeol’s hesitation, Namgung Un asked with gentle tact.

“It’s just… difficult to find something that truly suits him.”

“There will be more variety in Sichuan.”

“Ah, but I can’t leave Cheonghae right now.”

Making sure Samrang could hear, Yegyeol glanced at her before moving along.

Just as his feet grew weary from wandering fruitlessly, Namgung Un spoke:

“At the end of this street there’s a shop that mainly sells antiques. Its owner is a great collector, but only opens when the mood strikes. If you’d like, shall we go?”

“Let’s.”

If it meant finding the perfect gift, Yegyeol would travel to the ends of the Central Plains—so what was a short walk to the street’s end?

Even after spending the day searching, Yegyeol strode energetically. Namgung Un, watching his back, felt the faintest smile touch his lips. He soon caught up, falling into step beside him.

Fortunately, the antique shop was open. The owner, playing a solitary game of go, glanced at them before turning back to the board littered with black and white stones.

Inside, Yegyeol browsed slowly. True to an antique shop, there were many old furnishings, some statues, and porcelain, though none seemed particularly useful. Feeling a touch disappointed, he moved to leave—then stopped.

“Ah.”

They say some objects instantly bring a person to mind. That was exactly what happened to Yegyeol.

What caught his eye was a paperweight of white jade, carved into a dragon clutching a luxuriant cloud. Where the dragon rested, a faint green shimmered through the stone—exquisite in its subtlety.

‘Jade is fragile, yet despite such delicate carving, there’s not a single crack.’

It had nearly been hidden, tucked behind a tall porcelain vase.

“Looks like you’ve found the one.”

Namgung Un’s amused voice rang at his ear as Yegyeol stared, entranced. He urged him on:

“Best buy it quickly. Admiring it here won’t stop someone else from taking it.”

“You’re right—I should hurry.”

Beaming, Yegyeol went with Namgung Un to the proprietor.

At last, leaving the shop, Yegyeol carried a neatly wrapped bundle in his arms.

‘Now all I have to do is keep it safe and give it to Senior Brother!’

He grinned wide, elated. His purse was lighter, but so was his heart. At least all his hard labor selling red sandalwood had been worth it.

“Let’s return.”

Having finished their errand, Yegyeol meant to see Namgung Un back. Yet as they approached the main street, his brow furrowed.

Before entering the antique shop, the road had been busy but manageable. Now it surged with people.

“Why is it so crowded today?”

“There must be some event.”

“Un, would you mind if we detoured around the market? I dislike brushing shoulders with strangers.”

Since Namgung Un’s inn lay on the main street, this route would have been fastest.

“I have time enough.”

He readily agreed.

Though Yegyeol had taken long to find a gift, parting now seemed a pity. Detouring away from the crowds would mean more time together—he hardly minded that.

“Thank you for helping me. If not for you, I wouldn’t even have known that shop existed.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“How did you come to know of it?”

“Ah…” Namgung Un laughed awkwardly.

“It was supposed to be a secret, but since you’ve met Young Lord Tang in Hangzhou, I suppose I can tell you.”

At the name, Yegyeol’s ears pricked.

“You see… the young lord sought out a certain calligrapher’s style because the lady he admired had shown interest in it. He searched everywhere.”

“I see. That makes sense.”

Yegyeol smiled faintly.

‘So Tang Segi was off squirrel-hunting again.’

“He said he wanted to present it as a gift and perhaps gain a word with her. He went to every collector in Sichuan—even as far as the black market.”

“The black market, really?”

Clearly, for one who had walked the orthodox elite’s path, such places were distasteful.

“In the end, he found a fine manuscript here in Cheonghae.”

“And did he give it to her?”

Yegyeol could have wagered his new paperweight’s wrappings that Tang Segi never had.

“Alas…”

As expected, Namgung Un shook his head.

“The head of the Hwangbo family purchased the original from a wealthy man in Chang’an and gifted it to his daughter.”

“Then the manuscript…?”

“It hangs in Young Lord Tang’s room.”

Talking back and forth about Tang Segi’s sorrowful unrequited love, Yegyeol suddenly fell silent. Something felt off.

The strangeness only grew sharper. Though they had turned into a back alley where foot traffic was sparse, there were suddenly no people at all. Considering the bustling street was just behind them, this was far too unnatural.

Realizing this, Yegyeol opened the senses he usually kept bound.

From building corners, from rooftops, from behind awnings—he saw them.

‘Oh…’

The faintest human presences. Whoever they were, each had clearly mastered advanced concealment. Martial artists, without question.

Namgung Un’s hand was already resting on his sword, and Samrang—who had been walking apart—moved to Yegyeol’s side.

Assassins, when he couldn’t even wield martial arts!

This was a disaster beyond imagining.

Yegyeol was honestly, desperately alarmed.

‘…There’s no way I can die here!’