TSBIRBV Ch 275

Chapter 275. Cause and Effect (2)

“Elder Brother, and Hongyeo— I’ve returned victorious once again.”

After parting ways with Black Ghost at their appointed place, Yegyeol returned to the annex of the inn. There, he found Hongyeo seated across from Peng Munhyeong, the two sharing drinks.

“Ah, you’re here. Come, sit.”

When Peng Munhyeong gestured, Yegyeol took a seat without hesitation. Hongyeo, glancing at his face, spoke carefully.

“…Young Master, I’m sorry I had to return ahead of you.”

“I know. The young master of the Eon Clan picked another fight, didn’t he?”

Before Hongyeo could even reply, Yegyeol handed him the excuse he needed. Since Haryang had appeared, Hongyeo must have withdrawn; pressing him for not waiting would be pointless.

“Where’s Bambam?”

“She’s resting here.”

Hongyeo slid over a basin covered with dark cloth. When Yegyeol lifted the edge slightly, a golden snake poked its head out from beneath. As Yegyeol held out his hand, the little creature rubbed its face against his fingers and slithered out of the basin.

After gently drying its scales, Yegyeol asked,

“And what about Tang Saegie?”

“He mentioned he had someone to meet today.”

Hwangbo Yulhui, perhaps?

Yegyeol nodded.

“And what business does he have with them?”

“Well… he said he may have been poisoned today, and wanted me to ask you to check on him if possible.”

“Poisoned?”

Peng Munhyeong shot to his feet, his eyes wide as an ox’s.

Hongyeo, by contrast, remained calm.

“Please don’t be alarmed. He was carrying the anti-toxin wine you lent him.”

“Ah—right, I did give him that.”

Peng Munhyeong patted his chest absentmindedly before nodding in realization. He looked as though he could forget even if someone robbed him blind.

Now that’s what you call a true man, Yegyeol thought, as he emptied the cup Peng Munhyeong refilled for him.

“It’s fragrant. A little strong, but pleasant.”

Truthfully, he hadn’t planned on drinking, but considering where he was headed later, he didn’t mind carrying the faint scent of liquor.

“The best wines always are,” Peng Munhyeong chuckled.

“I do hope I’m not intruding on your evening,” Yegyeol remarked mildly.

“Nonsense. Your friend here’s good company, but far too quiet.”

“Hongyeo’s simply a man of steady temperament,” Yegyeol replied with a faint smile.

Back and forth the conversation flowed, until the light outside dimmed into dusk. Watching the garden blush under the setting sun, Yegyeol rose from his seat.

“I should be going now.”

“So soon?”

“Yes.”

Though regret flickered across Peng Munhyeong’s face, he did not stop him.

“Travel safely, then.”

Hongyeo, who no doubt knew where he was headed, added quietly, “On your way back, pick up some vegetables—Red Thunder will enjoy them.”

Before leaving the table, Yegyeol paused as Peng Munhyeong suddenly leaned forward, lowering his voice.

“Any word from Captain Yeon?”

Seeing Yegyeol’s gaze turn toward him, the man quickly stammered,

“N-not that I’m personally worried about Captain Yeon, of course! I just meant—about the investigation in that village, the progress of the case! Yes, the progress!”

He was clearly curious about how Yeon Sosŏ was faring.

Yegyeol smiled politely, though he tilted his head slightly.

“It’s been some time since I last sent him a letter. The reply should arrive soon, though…”

He had already received the list of missing persons from Yeokok Village from Je Haryang, so communication would resume shortly. But somehow, he didn’t want to tell Peng Munhyeong that just yet—especially when his bashful eyes gave him away so easily.

“I’ll inform you at once when I receive his reply.”

“Good,” Peng Munhyeong said, half relieved, half guilty, his face far more conflicted than usual.

“Weren’t you heading off to rest?” he asked as Yegyeol moved toward the door.

“Oh, right.”

Turning back, Yegyeol grinned.

“I’ll be spending the night out.”

It was finally time—to meet the one he’d longed for.

A carriage was already waiting at the inn’s front gate. The coachman bowed as soon as he saw him.

“Sent by Lord Black Ghost, sir.”

He looked like any other mild-mannered middle-aged man one might see on the street. Yegyeol wondered briefly whether he was a spy of the Demonic Sect or an agent from Heukjeom, but dismissed the thought.

Whichever it was—it didn’t matter. So long as he took him to his senior brother.

Inside the carriage, the windows were veiled with black cloth. The ceiling was crafted in a way that allowed a dim light to filter through, but no matter how he peered about, he couldn’t see the world outside.

Was it to keep prying eyes from looking in—or to keep the passenger from seeing out?

Without a word or a signal, the carriage began to move.

Right, right, left—then left again, another left, and then right.

They circled through similar alleys several times, as though the intent was to disorient whoever sat inside.

But sight isn’t the only sense, is it?

Most people rely heavily on vision to judge their surroundings—but Yegyeol was an Esper. Blocking his sight did nothing to dull his other senses.

He caught whiffs of damp earth, faint traces of tea, and the sweet scent of street snacks. Those aromas blended, faded, then returned again.

Voices overlapped outside: laborers grunting, chatter from tea shops, children laughing as they sold sweets.

Yegyeol ran his fingers along the carriage wall. It was solid; if they’d wished, they could have made it soundproof too. The light filtering through the ceiling came from some intricate hidden mechanism.

So they sealed the windows but not the roof—how curious.

To anyone else, this might have seemed designed to unsettle—to instill fear of the unknown.

Yegyeol simply stopped tracking the turns, closed his eyes, and chose to rest until he reached Haryang.

“We’ve arrived.”

The coachman’s voice woke him. He hadn’t slept at all; his eyes snapped open. Before the man could open the door, Yegyeol pushed it open himself and stepped out.

A grand manor stood before him—comparable in scale to the one he’d seen in Qinghai, though built in an entirely different style. The rooflines and painted walls glowed faintly under the blood-red twilight, giving the place an air that was at once mysterious and faintly ominous.

Whether in a good or bad way, it stirred something restless in the heart.

The spot where a plaque should hang above the gate was empty—as though this house had never been meant to receive guests.

He caught the faint scent of water; it must be near a lake.

“You’ve come.”

At the sound of a familiar voice, Yegyeol turned. From within the courtyard emerged Black Ghost—his hair damp, as though freshly washed.

Yegyeol blinked in surprise.

He’d only ever seen Haryang’s hair wet when they were in the bathhouse together. Which meant this, clearly, was staged—for show.

He’s changed, Yegyeol thought faintly.

The robe he wore hung loosely at the waist, the sash undone just enough that his chest showed when he moved. A faint scar cut across the pale skin, drawing Yegyeol’s gaze before he could stop himself.

“Thank you for inviting me. Your residence is exquisite.”

“It belonged to a high-ranking official who once served near the Emperor,” said Black Ghost evenly. “He retired here, planning to spend his old age in peace.”

“And now it’s yours?”

“The man’s grandson had a fondness for gambling. I was fortunate.”

His mouth curved into a grin—refined words paired with an indecent smile.

It was a look Haryang would never have worn before.

“My apologies. I’ve kept an honored guest waiting too long.”

He extended his hand.

“Please, come inside.”

Yegyeol brushed past him without taking it. He’d done it deliberately—yet the only response behind him was a quiet, low laugh.

Even in this unfamiliar place, Yegyeol walked without hesitation. But then, from behind, he felt the man’s shadow stretch and swallow his own.

The sunset had faded completely, twilight bleeding into night—and yet, somehow, the outline of that shadow remained visible.

“Something troubling you?” Black Ghost asked softly.

Yegyeol, who had paused without realizing, shook his head.

“No… it’s nothing.”

Inside, the manor was brightly lit. Walking through a corridor lined with hanging lanterns, Yegyeol soon stopped before a door at the end.

“Here?”

He reached for the handle even before hearing a reply.

“Wait.”

A hand brushed past his shoulder, opening the door instead. He was so close he could feel the man’s breath against his ear—half enveloped in his presence.

A shiver ran down his spine.

…Too close.

His palms grew damp with tension.

And then—the door opened.

The room was vast. Not merely spacious, but immensely so.

The windows weren’t floor-to-ceiling, but long enough to stretch nearly across the wall—rare in this era—and they stood wide open, revealing a lake swallowed by darkness, glimmering faintly beneath the moonlight.

“As you can see,” said Black Ghost, “the bedchamber has an unusual design.”

Moonlight, newly broken upon the lake’s surface, filtered in through the open windows.

“The walls of three adjoining rooms were torn down, leaving only the pillars—and the windows extended the entire length.”

“It’s beautiful,” Yegyeol murmured, awed despite himself.

Beyond, faint lights twinkled across the lake—perhaps the city of Wuhan in the distance. Not as dazzling as the cityscapes of his past life, but with a quiet charm all its own, reflected in the moonlit waters.

“I’m glad you think so,” Black Ghost replied, his lips curving lazily.

“Since the night will be long—and there’s little else to do—our eyes may as well have something pleasant to rest upon.”

But his gaze wasn’t on the lake.

It was fixed on him.

When their eyes met, Yegyeol found himself frozen—caught utterly in that look.

And in that moment, he realized—perhaps, all along, from the very start of their journey here—those dark, burning eyes had never once left him.

His mouth went dry.