TSBIRBV Ch 146

Chapter 146 The Oldest (8)

“My lord. Lord Mun has prepared a luncheon.”

Samrang swung open the door with a bright cheer.

“He said even if you’re not free, I’m to bring you one way or another.”

At her breezy tone, Jinyoung’s brows twitched.

“Good. You’ve come at the right time.”

He had been about to go looking for her anyway. Handing her a wine bottle, he said,

“I need a colorless, scentless sedative that induces deep sleep.”

Her question to confirm carried a pointed edge.

“A completely colorless, scentless sedative will harm the intestines when mixed with wine. Is that acceptable?”

Clearly, she had already guessed who it was for.

“That won’t do. It’s a strong-flavored wine—prepare a drug that blends well or is masked by it.”

From where he sat watching the two, Haryang finally spoke.

“Yes, just a moment.”

With a jaunty air, Samrang slipped her hand behind a cabinet set against the wall and pulled out several small jars. Jinyoung arched a brow as if to ask when she had hidden them there, but said nothing in front of Haryang.

Quickly she compounded the mixture and poured white powder onto a sheet of paper.

“It has a faint scent, but it works the cleanest. Taken in full, it’ll induce sleep for five to seven days. On waking, there may be headaches as aftereffects, but that’s purely physical—no matter how fine the medicine, that can’t be avoided.”

Without hesitation, Haryang tipped the contents into the wine bottle.

“If the wine is warmed slightly before drinking, the drug will circulate faster.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Having carried out her task, Samrang glanced up hesitantly and asked,

“So… will you not attend the luncheon?”

Even before Jinyoung had been dispatched to summon him, Samrang had appeared with Yegyeol’s invitation.

On hearing it, Haryang’s first reaction was hesitation.

Perhaps Yegyeol meant to tell him, here and now, that he would leave. The thought would not leave him.

Though hearing it would change nothing.

Haryang had already resolved to transplant his disciple to Ten Thousand Mountains. Even Baekyang Zhenren, still searching for Yegyeol, or the troublesome Namgung Clan’s young heir, could not stretch their reach into that place.

“Isn’t it the perfect time for a drink?”

Samrang flicked her wrist in a frivolous gesture, but Haryang only watched her.

Uncharacteristically, she seemed to be urging him to go meet Yegyeol.

“What has my disciple prepared?”

“Well… that…”

Samrang wrinkled her nose and scratched the back of her head before straightening to answer with unusual solemnity.

“My lord’s orders are absolute, so it isn’t my place to judge. But if you’ll permit my meager opinion… it would be better if you went without knowing.”

“…That is unlike you.”

“Then say my heart has gone soft.”

She flashed a grin. Reporting Yegyeol’s every move to her lord had never given her guilt—that was simply her duty.

But Yegyeol was a curious being. Before Haryang, he put on the guise of a meek lamb, yet the moment Haryang left, he showed his ill temper without restraint.

The act was so brazen it hardly seemed like an act at all. It felt instead like a vicious kind of favoritism reserved solely for Haryang.

Favoritism.

A word ill-suited when speaking of the Heavenly Demon himself.

And yet Yegyeol favored Haryang.

Listening to Yegyeol speak, one might think the Heavenly Demon was a warmhearted young hero, full of justice and compassion. Each time Yegyeol treated Haryang as some fragile being needing protection, Samrang felt a suffocating dissonance. And yet—she could not deny she had glimpsed in Haryang something she had never expected:

A youth with warmth, brimming with justice.

“Jinyoung. Send the wine ahead to the annex. And Samrang—go and tell him I’ll come at noon.”

Haryang had made his decision. If he had not trusted Samrang’s judgment, he would never have taken her into service.

“Yes, my lord.”

After Samrang, who had shifted the mood of the room, departed, Haryang sat in stillness for a long time. Jinyoung returned briefly, studied his master’s face, then quietly withdrew.

Left alone, Haryang felt crushed beneath some vast emotion that outstripped even the thoughts that endlessly chased each other, even the torment of his heart demons.

Not until a short while before noon did he finally rise.

He was not walking to meet a deadly enemy, yet his steps were slow and heavy.

He had brought his disciple to this manor to keep him close, had given him the annex as his residence. But the straight, simple path there felt impossibly winding today.

Outside, waiting, Yegyeol greeted him with a radiant smile. From that face alone, Haryang could not guess what lay within, and his throat went dry.

Even when Yegyeol suggested blindfolding him, he had willingly stepped into the darkness.

As he took each step into what felt like an entirely new world created in a single day by Yegyeol, he thought not of where he was, but only of the hand guiding him.

Because he feared Yegyeol might let go. Might say, Just a moment, and vanish somewhere, leaving him to wait without knowing he’d been abandoned.

Like some trained dog.

He swallowed his self-mockery.

What was worse was that his disciple had never even meant to tame him.

It was simply the boundless years that had made him so.

“Ta-da!”

Contrary to his fears, Yegyeol led him into a room.

Yegyeol, having prepared it all himself, seated him and told the servants to bring in the food. Haryang studied him carefully.

By now it was obvious Yegyeol had not done all this in order to announce his departure. Yet the unease gnawing at Haryang followed the curve of his disciple’s lips.

When all the dishes were laid out, the wine Jinyoung had delivered, steaming, was placed upon the table.

“The aroma is wonderful.”

Yegyeol’s words carried genuine admiration.

The order to fetch a fine wine had proved worthwhile.

“A good vintage came in, so I brought it for you to taste.”

Only then did Haryang finally let go of his tension.

Yes, no matter what Yegyeol said, nothing would change.

Once today passed, his disciple would awaken in Ten Thousand Mountains.

Meanwhile, Haryang would deal with the Demon Factions that had crept forward in his absence, root out the family that had sent assassins against Yegyeol, and rip apart those wretches once more.

And then I’ll tell him… that I had no choice but to return because they came for you.

Cowardly as it was, he intended to face Yegyeol’s fear and hatred only where there would be no escape.

Feigning composure, he said,

“Now, shall I hear why my disciple prepared such a feast?”

But Yegyeol, with a single sentence, overturned all his plans.

“Today is Senior Brother’s birthday, isn’t it?”

My birthday?

He had not remembered it at all.

Because he had never celebrated it.

Even his three loyal subordinates might not know when he was born. Or if they did, they feigned ignorance.

From earliest childhood, his very birth had been hardship, his life a burden. He had never thought of his birthday as anything worth commemorating.

“Did you forget?”

At Huangbo Clan, his birth had been hushed up. His maternal kin had sought to assassinate him, fearing the wrath of the clan head. A grandson born of their daughter and some nameless wanderer was a mark of disgrace, a crack that could split apart the marriage alliance painstakingly forged between two great houses.

His sister, who had once tossed him a toy ball to play with, came to resent him. His nurse, who had cared for him in place of his unstable mother, abandoned him in the alleys of Hangzhou.

“Yes.”

Perhaps his silence had stretched too long—for Yegyeol was watching him with anxious eyes.

“…It has been so long since anyone remembered that I had forgotten myself.”

“From now on, I’ll remember for you.”

All Haryang could do was nod.

His disciple pressed into his hands the gift he had searched out in Seonyeong.

The silk wrapping was familiar to Haryang.

Hadn’t he told Samrang to fetch it?

He had never imagined it would circle back to him.

Samrang had concealed both the fact that it was a gift for him and that Yegyeol had summoned him today to celebrate his birthday.

When first he had opened it, what he felt was fear. Now, what gripped his heart was something like exhilaration, impossible to define.

Strangely, his chest swelled.

“…”

To keep Yegyeol from seeing the crack, he pulled the paperweight toward him still wrapped, never lifting it bare.

Good thing I knew beforehand.

Had he lifted it carelessly, Yegyeol would surely have noticed the fracture.

“…It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

His gaze, resting on the paperweight, slid past it—toward the wine pot between them.

All he had to do was offer thanks, pour a cup. If he let Yegyeol pour for him, he need not even pretend to drink. Yegyeol would trust him and swallow the drugged wine without question.

And then, he will wake in Ten Thousand Mountains.

But in that shadowy, satisfying image, cracks were forming.

He knew Yegyeol would fear that place.

Those twisted, pitch-dark mountains did not suit him at all.

Haryang did not doubt Yegyeol’s devotion. His disciple had left Kunlun and followed him, had he not?

But entering the very heart of the Demonic Cult—that was another matter entirely.

No matter how blind with devotion Yegyeol might be, he was still a child of the orthodox sects. How would he react, if told that the Senior Brother he revered had become the leader of the Demonic Path?

The answer is obvious.

Haryang thought with bitter self-mockery.