TSBIRBV Ch 199

Chapter 199. Forgiveness (1)

“What?”

At his subordinate’s report, Jinyoung’s mouth fell open.

“Chilgwae-dong… what did you say happened to it?”

Since he had begun assisting Haryang, never before had he been so shaken.

As if to justify his agitation, the subordinate hastily explained,

“It has completely collapsed. There are witnesses who claim that lightning struck it several times, but…”

He shook his head, saying it must have been an illusion.

Jinyoung furrowed his brow, suspicion pricking at him, then smoothed his expression.

“Did Mun Gongja(young master mun) go there?”

“Yes. I heard that he has since returned to Cheonghyeongjeon with the Mu-Wol leader.”

‘That damned Thousand-Year Thunder Serpent…!’

Jinyoung swallowed a sigh that was half exasperation, half resignation, already guessing the cause of Chilgwae-dong’s ruin. Yet this time, his disquiet did not show on his face.

Composing himself into the same neat demeanor as always, he gave his subordinate a nod.

“I understand. I’ll report it. You may go.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pacing back and forth several times in his anxiety, steadying his heart, Jinyoung finally drew a deep breath. Passing through the long, antique corridor of Taihwajeon, he stopped before its wide doors.

Looking down at the shadow of himself cast upon the sliding panels, Jinyoung spoke.

“My lord, it is Jinyoung.”

“Enter.”

Haryang was poring over bamboo slips.

Unlike before, when he favored dark garments, today he wore a white long robe. Golden embroidery, subtle yet rich, lent him a stately air. His long hair was loosely tied with a blue silk ribbon, ready to unravel with the slightest movement.

‘That silk cord is the one Mun Gongja gifted him.’

On the desk before him, besides what he held in hand, were stacks of bamboo slips bound with threads of every color. The long absence during which the sect had been left unattended, compounded by his immediate seizure of the head of the Gong clan among the Six Great Houses, had naturally produced a mountain of matters to address.

“This concerns Mun Gongja.”

At Jinyoung’s words, Haryang lifted his head, lowering the slip he held. With a soft clatter, it fell upon the desk.

“Yegyeol?”

The slight furrow between his brows betrayed Haryang’s worry.

‘In some sense, is he not the one person more troublesome than our lord himself?’

Jinyoung’s heart stirred uneasily, but he repeated the report he had received moments before.

“Chilgwae-dong has collapsed.”

“…So that was the noise.”

“Mun Gongja was said to have gone there most recently.”

Before Haryang could even ask, Jinyoung rushed to add,

“Of course, he was unharmed.”

Haryang appeared composed.

If anything had truly happened to Yegyeol, Jinyoung would never have been so calm.

“He told me he had no intention of causing trouble.”

Haryang’s lips curved with the faintest of smiles.

If it was not Jinyoung’s imagination, he even looked pleased.

“You do not intend to make an issue of Chilgwae-dong’s collapse?”

Haryang’s gaze fell upon his subordinate.

“If I myself had brought Chilgwae-dong down, what would you have said?”

“…In that case—”

Jinyoung’s lips parted, then closed again. He had thought to say he would have tried to dissuade him, but he abandoned it.

Even if the heavens themselves split in two, he would never stand in his lord’s way. The only reason Chilgwae-dong still remained was because of Haryang’s mercy. In truth, it should have been destroyed three years ago.

“Deal with the aftermath as you see fit.”

Haryang’s tone was as even as always. Plainly, he already knew what judgment Jinyoung would render before even asking.

“As you command.”

Shedding his hesitation, Jinyoung bowed and withdrew. Touching lightly the place above his heart, he let out a sigh of relief.

For now, at least, it seemed all was well. For now.

Reluctantly parting with Baembaemi, Yegyeol entered Cheonghyeongjeon.

The corridor admitted only a faint light, leaving the place dim overall. And whether it was imagination or not, a chill seemed to linger in the air.

It was as though the hall had been built not to capture the sun’s rays, but to cradle the moonlight.

Unless Haryang summoned them, not a single attendant was visible. For that reason, Cheonghyeongjeon felt unnaturally vast. Its architecture, reminiscent of the Central Plains yet touched with something foreign, combined splendor and solemnity, dazzling the eyes while pressing upon the heart.

Truly, it was a fitting residence for the Heavenly Demon.

‘But it is lonely.’

Its very structure would make that loneliness all the more palpable if one lived here alone. At least, that was how it felt to Yegyeol.

Not wanting to return to the room that would be empty of Haryang tonight, he lingered. As he turned a corner in the corridor, however, he noticed the wavering glow of a yellow lamp behind a sliding door.

“Eh…?”

Unconsciously quickening his pace, Yegyeol soon stood before Haryang’s chambers. He raised his hand to push the door open, but paused.

There was no presence. His Senior Brother was always quiet by nature, and often concealed his existence so well that even Yegyeol found it hard to sense if he was there.

‘Was it just my imagination?’

Perhaps it was only a servant tidying the chamber, leaving a lamp lit.

Yet Yegyeol lingered, wishing at least to glimpse the shadow that lamp might cast of Haryang.

If he opened the door now, he could see for certain whether his Senior Brother had returned. But he hesitated. If Haryang were not within, he would be disappointed.

And that would be unbearably lonely.

“Yegyeol?”

Just as he reached out, the door burst open. There stood Haryang, clad in white, gazing down at him like the figure Yegyeol had once secretly spied upon in the past.

“If you’ve come, then come inside. The mountain air is cold—why stand outside?”

As if spellbound, Yegyeol let himself be drawn inside by that hand. Within, he found a brazier glowing with warm coals, a book left aside as if recently read, and a sword, freshly polished and set upon the desk.

A faint smile tugged at Yegyeol’s lips.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Looking up at him intently as he asked, Haryang reached past his shoulder, closing him in as if between his arms.

“Of course.”

The door shut behind them with a dull thud.

Ordinarily, Haryang would have closed it with telekinesis, but that he had used his hand this time was all too plain in meaning.

“Seems you had quite an entertaining day.”

A knowing smile curved his lips.

“…You already heard?”

Yegyeol, who had earlier raised havoc as though the world held nothing worth fearing, now spoke with utmost caution.

“Well, didn’t you go walking with Samrang?”

Haryang’s tone was mischievous.

“Now that I look closely, your nose does seem a bit red.”

His fingertip tapped Yegyeol’s nose bridge teasingly.

“Even a pup rolling in the snow would be less pale than you, Yegyeol.”

Since the day he had nearly abducted Yegyeol into the Ten Thousand Great Mountains, Haryang’s tightly strung demeanor seemed to have softened. Were this not Cheonghyeongjeon, Yegyeol would have thought they had gone back to those first days in Cheonghae, when they had just confirmed their hearts.

Yegyeol entwined his fingers with Haryang’s and led him toward the bed. The man, broad enough to envelop his disciple with a single arm, offered no resistance, allowing himself to be pulled along.

Could silk gauze driven by the wind be so light?

Pressing on his Senior Brother’s shoulder, Yegyeol sat him down, then settled beside him. Still clasping Haryang’s hand, he lowered his head into his lap.

Unwilling to let go of his hand, unwilling to surrender his lap, Yegyeol squirmed about, searching for comfort until he curled up like a hedgehog.

Haryang’s thigh was far too firm to call a comfortable pillow, yet its solidity brought Yegyeol peace.

“Mm.”

Eyes closed, Yegyeol shifted, then turned his gaze upward at the sound Haryang made. His Senior Brother’s other hand had drifted from his collar down into his hair, stroking it.

The seamless motion was like a martial form flowing from one stance into the next. But the bold Yegyeol knew instantly what Haryang intended.

‘Pretend. Pretend I don’t notice.’

Clenching his eyes shut, Yegyeol repeated the mantra. Yet he could not stop his shoulders from trembling with suppressed laughter.

“Yegyeol…”

Haryang’s voice emerged low, uncharacteristically sullen.

“Laugh freely.”

Granted his Senior Brother’s solemn permission, Yegyeol could hold back no longer.

“Hu—hup… ah, pfft. Haha, hahahaha!”

He laughed until tears pricked his eyes. Curled into a ball, he did not even need to clutch his stomach. Even after the fit had subsided, little giggles still slipped out. Then he saw Haryang turned half away from him.

Behind him trailed the blue silk cord Yegyeol had gifted him in Hangzhou.

‘He’ll drive me mad.’

The white robe, the ribbon, the clumsy way he could conceal his face but not his embarrassment—every bit of him struck Yegyeol’s heart.

Truly, he looked as though he could be devoured whole without the slightest aftertaste of regret.

Rising slowly, Yegyeol rested his chin upon Haryang’s shoulder.

“Did I make Senior Brother wait in expectation?”

At that question, the ears of Haryang, who had turned slightly away to avoid his gaze, flushed red.

Considering how little martial artists’ bodies betrayed dramatic changes, the ebb and flow of emotion within him was clear as daylight.

Yegyeol’s arms slipped around him from behind, his hands parting his robe. Like a serpent over a wall, his fingers slid inside, caressing the solid chest beneath.

The faint warmth of his skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, thudded against Yegyeol’s fingertips.

Haryang hesitated briefly, then lowered his head, drawing one of Yegyeol’s hands up and pressing his lips to its nails.

“Because you… seemed to have enjoyed your day.”

With every movement of his lips so close, they brushed, touched, and lifted from Yegyeol’s fingertips again and again.

“I thought perhaps you might wish to ask me for something once more.”

It tickled.

Without thinking, Yegyeol tried to withdraw his hand, but Haryang held it fast. The faint pressure of lips crushed against his fingertip was vivid.

A man forged harder than steel by fire and water, sharper than the keenest blade—yet to Yegyeol alone, he was tender.

Soft, yielding, delicate, and vulnerable.

“Nothing comes to mind just now.”

Yegyeol murmured like a confession.

“But I do want you, Senior Brother.”