TSBIRBV Ch 188(NSFW)

Chapter 188. Pillow-Side Litigation (15) (NSFW)

It had been but a single day since Yegyeol was brought to the Ten-Thousand Mountains, and already he lay stricken with intoxication. Not from foes or peril, but from the very draughts Haryang used to summon sleep.

“Samrang, do you believe this child can endure life in the Ten-Thousand Mountains?”

Haryang asked as he felt Yegyeol’s hair slip like silk between his fingers.

“Well… I cannot say for certain.”

At his lord’s tender tone, Samrang cast a glance at Yegyeol. Silent and still, he did indeed look as frail as Haryang often described. In truth, he was delicate. Though stronger than most common men, he could never compare with martial artists.

And yet—

“If you ask for a physician’s opinion, then yes, I believe he can.”

Haryang’s gaze turned toward her.

“The medicines you use are so potent they border on poison. Even a martial artist without resistance would be easily overcome. That Young Master Mun has taken ill is neither strange nor cause for grave alarm.”

“His fever has risen greatly.”

Haryang’s eyes rested on Yegyeol, who had fainted the night before. Even after hours of cooling him with the ice arts he had once studied in passing, the fever did not relent, and so he had summoned Samrang.

“Yes—that is precisely the problem.”

Samrang nodded gravely.

“The side effects of such medicine should be only dulled senses and drowsiness. Nothing more.”

Reactions varied by constitution, but at worst there should be rashes. The source of this fever lay elsewhere.

“Young Master Mun’s body burns because it is cleansing itself. He is attempting to expel the medicine, and thus the fever.”

“Cleansing…”

“Indeed.”

Haryang murmured, ah. Often he forgot that Yegyeol, too, had once been a subject of the cult’s experiments. Not because Yegyeol brimmed with vitality, but because his Senior Brother saw him always as fragile, and so pushed aside the truth—that he had been made into a weapon.

“As for why arousal accompanied it… even I cannot say. So long as the heat is relieved in time, there will be no lasting harm. Left untended, however, it may become dangerous.”

Haryang wiped Yegyeol’s damp face with his sleeve.

“Then its side effects are like those of a fever?”

A strange gleam flickered in his eyes before fading.

“Yes. As when a man who suffers a grave fever speaks clumsily or thinks more simply—so too, such effects may arise. I advise regular immersion in medicated baths, to aid the body in cooling itself. Not forever; in time, he will adapt.”

She shrugged lightly.

“Sooner than you think, perhaps.”

Having shadowed Yegyeol under the guise of guard, Samrang knew well the strange, fierce attachment the sly youth bore her lord. Shocked though he might be, he would recover swiftly; betrayed though he might feel, he would never value that enough to leave Haryang’s side.

Side effects of medicine? He will overcome even if his body falters—his will is sharp enough.

Or so she thought.

“…That is some relief.”

Even so, worry lingered upon Haryang’s face. Yet his hand upon Yegyeol grew gentler. Lifting the disciple’s body, he soothed his faint stirring with a pat to the back, then gestured to Samrang.

“The bath is ready. We will go there. For the next five days, remain near and tend to his condition yourself.”

“As you command.”

Yegyeol opened his eyes.

“Mm…”

Water lapped at his chest. He started, trying to rise, but the sensation below made him hunch down swiftly.

“Ah—ahhh…”

“You are awake.”

The voice beneath him was low and wet with steam. Through his blurred vision, Haryang came into focus. Yegyeol blinked several times.

“Wh… where am I…?”

A glance about him gave the impression of some vast bathhouse. Neither pool nor mere tub, but a chamber between the two. The stone that lined it was unlike that found in the Central Plains, veined with exotic marble and carved with strange patterns. No jewels adorned it, nor gilding, yet refinement seeped from every corner.

Even the water itself was unusual—opaque, coolly fragrant, a tang that tickled the nose. Not mint, but akin to it.

“This is the bathhouse of Cheonghyeongjeon.”

So this was the Heavenly Demon’s bath. Yegyeol nodded faintly.

“That you sit astride me hardly surprises me now. Impudent disciple.”

A teasing finger tapped the bridge of his nose.

“Why is… why is it still inside…”

Unable to say the word organ, Yegyeol mumbled against his Senior Brother’s chest. Haryang, stroking between his shoulder blades, replied:

“Did you not ask me to seal you? You feared it would gape and never close.”

Ah—he had indeed said such things.

“I removed what I had left within you, lest it hurt. But if you regret it, shall I fill you again?”

His lips pressed warmth into Yegyeol’s shoulder, coaxing.

“Please… remove it.”

His voice was but a whisper. Haryang sighed as if disappointed, grasped his waist, and slowly withdrew.

“Ahhh… tighter, now that you are awake.”

He lingered at the entrance, the tip resting there, a low groan escaping him.

“Do not… squeeze so hard—ahh.”

Even dampened by water, his Senior Brother’s arousal was palpable. The heat stirred Yegyeol as well.

Licking his lips, he set his hands on Haryang’s shoulders, bent his knees, and pulled free of the shaft that had filled him.

“Ahhh!”

It was the first thing he had done since waking, and yet his body sagged, weary.

Breathing shallowly, his head bowed against Haryang’s shoulder, who stroked his spine soothingly. The emptiness below was startling, his body clenching around absence. Even knowing his esper’s strength would soon mend him, he could not help but wonder—what if it never closed again?

His hand drifted unconsciously downward, brushing something firm. Haryang’s thigh. Just a little further and—

“Careful.”

Haryang’s lips trembled with a sigh, and Yegyeol jerked his hand away.

“I will not torment you further. Rest easy.”

With damp fingers he stroked his cheek, voice as ever gentle, unfailingly patient.

Yegyeol stared at him. His calm expression, his fine features—exactly the Je Haryang he had always known.

Tentatively, he asked:

“May I… may I not leave?”

Lowering his eyes, he sank into the water up to his neck, as though ashamed of their entwined nakedness.

“It would be unwise.”

Haryang’s voice was languid.

“This is a medicated bath.”

Yegyeol stiffened.

“A… medicated bath?”

“You were poisoned by the remnants of the medicines I used. To aid your recovery, Samrang filled this bath with herbs for detoxification.”

His eyes widened in surprise. So the heady fragrance was decocted herbs.

“And… ahh!”

Only now did he realize the water’s heat had masked the chill of Haryang’s body.

“Senior Brother… your body is cold.”

His hand pressed to Haryang’s chest. Had they been outside the steaming bath, it would have felt icy.

“I have been using ice arts to draw down your fever. The bath alone cannot suffice—cold water yields no medicine. Thus I cool you myself.”

So his Senior Brother had been serving as a living ice pack, keeping him atop his body lest he slip beneath the water unconscious.

“You… you use martial arts for such strange things.”

Yegyeol murmured, embarrassed, head leaning on his shoulder.

Haryang had always wielded martial skill without pretension. As when he had opened a mere door with telekinetic force—while most martial artists staked pride and life upon their arts, he, the Heavenly Demon, played at being a humble cooling cloth.

“Is it strange, to use my strength to spare you harm?”

Haryang asked quietly.

“I told you—I cherish you. Even to behold you is precious… how could I stand by, seeing you burn with fever?”

A heavy sigh escaped him. He took Yegyeol’s hand, pressed it to his cheek, and leaned into it.

“For me to do nothing, while you suffer so, would be agony.”

Soaked, Je Haryang was dangerously beautiful. His wet lashes glittered like tears, his clinging hair revealed pale skin, his chest rippled beneath the water, and glimpses of forbidden flesh shimmered beneath the surface.

Yegyeol dared not pull away. Instead, he whispered:

“…Am I still your disciple?”