HDCLSSRS Ch 9

Chapter 9 Is This What It Means to Live? (2)

 

At those words, Seong Muyeon grimaced outright.

“Oh, come on. Do I look crazy enough to raid that man’s room…? Never mind! Go bring hot water and a decoction pot right this instant!”

“What the hell is this beggar saying? Why should I…”

“If you don’t bring it immediately, you might end up seeing something really scary. Are you okay with that?”

The employee’s face turned pale. There was an irresistible force behind Seong Muyeon’s icy glare.

After confirming the employee hurriedly ran downstairs, Seong Muyeon returned to the room.

When he burst in roughly, Baek Ryeoil’s pupils contracted.

“Why are you here…?”

“Lucky for you I had medicine on me, you know that? Huh?”

He pulled out a bundle of medicinal herbs from inside his clothes. It was the one Ilgwang had repeatedly instructed him to take twice a day without fail.

Coincidentally, it was the exact medicine for these symptoms. It didn’t do much for Seong Muyeon, but for Baek Ryeoil, who was experiencing temporary symptoms, it was a miracle cure.

Seong Muyeon was extremely displeased. He was fully aware he was doing something irrational. But he simply couldn’t turn a blind eye to someone suffering—it was a sickness in itself, if anything.

“I told them to bring the decoction pot—why are they so late? It’s so damn annoying!”

He threw down the medicine and stomped around noisily. Instead of neatly cutting the herbs, he tore them up wildly.

Soon enough, the employee returned with the pot, and he began to brew the medicine. Even as he did, he grumbled nonstop.

“I’m crazy, that’s what I am. What’s so charming about that guy that I’m doing all this?”

“……”

“Oh, my miserable fate.”

“……”

Baek Ryeoil stared at Seong Muyeon like he was looking at a three-legged bird.

Soon, Seong Muyeon brought over the steaming hot medicine.

“Here. Drink.”

“What is this?”

“It’s medicine, I said, medicine!”

Baek Ryeoil eyed the decoction suspiciously.

“Think I’m going to poison you again or something? Forget it! After what happened last time, I can see you’d chase me all the way to hell if I tried anything. I’m not stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. Now, open up.”

“…Why should I trust you?”

“Ah, just do it!”

Seong Muyeon roughly grabbed his face and pried his mouth open. Then he shoved the hot medicine in without warning.

“Gahk!”

“I’m going this far, you hear me? So have a little gratitude. When you’re debating whether to kill me or not, just remember—‘Oh right, Seong Muyeon once gave me medicine.’ That’s all I ask!”

Baek Ryeoil flailed like someone being tortured with water. But after traveling far in a poisoned body and exerting himself too much, he had no strength left.

“Hey! It’s going up my nose! Gahk!”

“The nostrils connect to the throat anyway, so it’s fine.”

“Guh!”

“Don’t spill it—swallow it all. That’s right. Good.”

After feeding him the medicine, Seong Muyeon laid him down on the bed. He removed his outer robe and shoes, wiped away his sweat, then called someone to order a soft, easy-to-digest porridge.

Baek Ryeoil rolled his eyes and glared at Seong Muyeon.

“…What’s your angle, Seong Muyeon.”

“There’s no angle. Just…”

He trailed off.

A person with distorted qi and blood flow feels both hot and cold at once. As it worsens, they suffer from nausea, dizziness, and a sense of overwhelming faintness.

Seong Muyeon knew exactly how painful that was.

That was why. Why he couldn’t just leave him there.

Baek Ryeoil ate a little porridge, then threw it all up and slumped over weakly.

“…I don’t trust bastards like you.”

“Suit yourself.”

Those grumbled words were the last before Baek Ryeoil fell into a faint sleep.

Once the chaos had passed, a quiet stillness settled in.

“……”

Seong Muyeon silently looked down at Baek Ryeoil’s sleeping face. The medicine must have started to take effect—his furrowed brow began to ease. He looked much younger asleep than he did awake.

‘How old is Baek Ryeoil, anyway?’

The tale of the Sword Overseer began when Baek Ryeoil was in his forties or fifties. Or at least, that’s the assumption—no one really knew his exact age. Judging by his appearance, he didn’t look a day past his early thirties because his aging had halted.

But in martial arts stories, who cares about age? What matters is how well the protagonist beats up enemies.

Shaking off his lingering feelings, Seong Muyeon left the inn.

That’s when a beggar jumped out from a nearby alleyway as if waiting for him.

“Brother Seong! Brother Seong! What happened? Are you okay? What did that Mount Hua Taoist do to you?!”

“…You bastard. This is all your fault!”

Seong Muyeon glared at him. It was the same beggar who’d reported him in the alley earlier.

“Wh-what? What did I even do…? How was I supposed to know the guy he was looking for was you? Still, doesn’t look like you’re hurt.”

The beggar looked him up and down, muttering to himself.

Seong Muyeon’s insides were boiling, but he held it in.

They turned off the main road into a side alley.

“How’d you end up on Baek Ryeoil’s bad side? Tsk tsk. Poor guy.”

“It’s a long story… What was your name again?”

“…Honggae! I told you like five times already!”

“Ah, right. Honggae. Do you know how old Baek Ryeoil is?”

“Beats me. Why do you care? What matters is how strong someone is, not how old they are.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

The two nodded in agreement.

“Anyway, I’m leaving.”

Seong Muyeon started walking in the opposite direction of the beggars’ den. Honggae rushed after him.

“Where you going! I was just starting to get attached to you. Don’t go.”

“Baek Ryeoil will come after me again, won’t he? Ugh… The beggar den was cozy and nice. Ah, stop following me!”

“It’s a dangerous world these days. People are disappearing left and right. You’re too frail and weak to be walking around alone.”

Seong Muyeon kicked Honggae’s butt.

“Ugh!”

Of course, it was the sick man who got hurt.

“See?”

“…Don’t say anything to Baek Ryeoil. Not a word about where I went, got it?”

“Geez, where are you going!”

Seong Muyeon turned and quickly walked away.

“Brother!”

The morning sun stabbed at his eyes. Birdsong rang from beyond the window.

Baek Ryeoil slowly opened his dry eyes. After blinking a few times, he suddenly sat up as the memories of the previous day returned.

As expected, the room was empty except for him.

Only the abandoned decoction pot and bowl of porridge remained as evidence that someone else had been there.

“……”

Baek Ryeoil just sat there blankly, staring at the medicine pouch on the floor.

What was this feeling?

In all his life, he’d never once been defeated by another. But if ever he were to lose so completely that even protest felt pointless… would it feel like this?

It felt like someone had hit him in the back of the head with a brick.

“……”

His condition had improved significantly. No—he was completely better.

Why had the man even carried that kind of medicine?

Why had he helped him?

If only he’d hit him and run off, this wouldn’t feel so humiliating.

Baek Ryeoil lay back down in bed.

He curled up with the blanket, trying to ease the miserable feeling.

He didn’t leave his room for days. He clung to his blanket and stayed put.

He didn’t feel like drinking, nor did he want to return to the main sect. He just lazed around like a bum, and empty bowls piled up in the corner.

“Sigh…”

All that came from his lips was a long sigh. An unidentifiable emotion was tormenting him.

A small voice seemed to whisper from a corner of his mind.

“You’re ruined.”

Baek Ryeoil scratched his head furiously.

Ruined? Ruined how?

Sure, he’d taken a hit from some weakling he’d never seen before, but it wasn’t anything serious. He wasn’t injured, hadn’t lost anything. The guy wasn’t even some heinous villain. He could just let it go. Forget and move on.

But the voice kept returning.

“I’m telling you—your life is ruined.”

“Ugh! What the hell! Why do I feel so unsettled?!”

After seven days and nights, Baek Ryeoil finally threw off his blanket. He decided to go to the market and down some cheap alcohol.

‘Nice sunny day.’

Walking under the sun for the first time in a while made him squint.

When Baek Ryeoil passed by a beggar he used to give alms to, the man recognized him and rushed over.

“Gah! Lord Baek! What happened to your face? Did something bad happen?”

“What about my face! Wait, who are you?”

“You saw me a few days ago. It’s Honggae! I thought you’d gone back to Mount Hua since you vanished, but you’re still here?”

After thinking it over, Baek Ryeoil remembered gathering the beggars a few days ago.

He waved his hand dismissively.

“Don’t poke your nose into other people’s business. Just go.”

“…Is it because of Brother Seong, by any chance?”

He froze.

Baek Ryeoil stopped in his tracks. As a result, Honggae, who’d been following right behind, rammed his nose into Baek Ryeoil’s back. It hurt like his nose bone had snapped, but when he saw the deadly look on Baek Ryeoil’s face, he didn’t dare complain.

“…It’s not.”

“O-oh, if it’s not, then okay… So, where are you going?”

“To drink.”

“Got it. When are you heading back to Mount Hua? Do you know what people are calling you lately? The Heartless Sword! Even a swordsman of your level doesn’t seem too busy, huh. I thought those righteous sects trained every day and—”

Honggae, who’d been chatting nonstop, clamped his mouth shut under Baek Ryeoil’s glare.