OGHOU C41

Chapter 41

‘Something else? What could it be?’

Cheongyeon slowly lifted his gaze to look at him. The finger that had been stroking his fangs had moved to press firmly against his tongue. Because of this, his mouth was wide open, and his jaw ached.

“Aah… ah…”

Unable to speak with his tongue held down, Cheongyeon grasped the hand and cast pleading eyes, begging for release. Shaking his head left and right did no good; the jaw held tight would not budge.

‘It hurts! I said it hurts, you bastard!’

When Cheongyeon began striking and pushing the arm away, the fingers in his mouth slid out. Muho rubbed his arm mockingly.

“Your hands sure bite.”

Don’t lie. It’s like hitting a rock with an egg. That barely even tickles you.

Wincing, Cheongyeon glared at Muho. As he drew back the curtain, stooping to meet Cheongyeon’s eyes, the intensity made him swallow dryly.

He slowly crawled onto the bed. Up close, the face he had once known as a child was still there, yet it was more mature, exuding a new aura. The scars near his eyes, instead of fading with time, had darkened and taken on a reddish tint.

“Cheongyeon.”

The unfamiliar ring of his own name from Muho’s lips made him shudder. His sweaty palms gave away his tension. Cheongyeon turned his head, avoiding the face so close.

“Wh-why, why…”

He stammered, and then a voice came from outside the room.

“Master.”

Hearing that word, Muho’s eyes instantly gleamed with killing intent—so fierce even an ordinary person would notice. He twisted his grim expression and turned to the door.

“Um…”

The man outside hesitated noticeably.

“He has come.”

“I already know. Tell him to leave.”

Muho’s voice crackled with annoyance. The oppressive atmosphere nearly suffocated Cheongyeon, whose lips trembled.

“He says he won’t leave before seeing the master.”

“…”

“If he cannot see you, then…”

“Enough.”

Muho cut off the man’s words and cast a lethal glance at Cheongyeon. That merciless look made a single second feel like years. Suddenly, he ran his hands roughly through his hair and rose from the bed, prompting Cheongyeon to sigh with relief.

Is he going to leave?

Whoever the visitor was, simply buying time was a blessing, and if Cheongyeon survived to meet him, he would thank him sincerely.

“You should think of a plausible excuse.”

Muho said, looking down on Cheongyeon.

“How you learned my true name… about my past.”

What followed was obvious without speaking. Failure to offer a convincing excuse might bring a shattered skull or a severed leg grafted onto an arm—or worse. Even if excuses were made, nothing would change much.

Cheongyeon sat dazed on the bed until Muho’s footsteps faded away. He wondered how in hell he could escape this nightmare.

“Wow, damn… what do I do now?”

Collapsing onto the bed, Cheongyeon groaned in pain, fingers tangling his mess of hair. The hairpin had long since fallen away.

“I’m like a rat trapped in poison.” Thinking of Muho’s killing gaze sent chills over him.

The cult members still lingered at the door, and how was he supposed to flee now? Even if by some miracle he fled, capture was inevitable soon after.

“Crazy. And the inn, what about it?”

His mind tormented by danger, all sorts of thoughts crashed through him.

He’d been captured too suddenly to properly wrap up the inn. He’d set a date to sell it and leave, yet here he was like a bolt from the blue. The staff must be shocked at the Innkeeper’s sudden disappearance. Perhaps some might even be glad.

And within days, Jeha and Somyeong were scheduled to visit. With their relationship about to deepen, what if news of the Innkeeper’s capture by the cult changed their feelings?

“Mina, what am I going to do now?”

After a long while, Cheongyeon called to his absent companion. Mina’s face, long forgotten, flickered faintly before him—too much like a phantom to look upon closely, promised in eternal youth.

“Hey, it’s your fault. Any novel with a master-disciple relationship is bound to become a BL hit. Because of you, my work is ruined. What now?”

Mina’s sharp voice echoed in his ears, and Cheongyeon weakly extorted excuses.

“I didn’t mean for this. I struggled a lot. And if you hadn’t made me see all this, there’d be no possession.”

“Don’t care about your problems—give me damages! My debut almost got ruined, you know!”

Startled by the harsh shout, Cheongyeon waved away Mina’s phantom.

Just then, a knock came at the door. Pulling himself alert, Cheongyeon sat up; his long, tangled hair fell over his face.

Hastily combing his hair, the door slid open. A man in black entered.

“Who….”

Bowing politely, he greeted Cheongyeon.

“I am Jihong, chief of the Heavenly Guard, a direct subordinate to the master. I have long served as his right-hand man.”

The same voice that had earlier called Muho “Master” outside.

Cheongyeon eyed him warily, brushing aside tangled locks. His over-polite manner felt somewhat uncomfortable.

“I’ve brought dinner.”

“Dinner… for me?”

“Yes. The master’s orders.”

He smiled lightly and placed the food container on the table. Cheongyeon stayed on the bed, stiff with suspicion.

Dinner for me? Why?

He had no appetite; being captured abruptly meant hunger was unlikely.

And entrusting such trivial work to someone so high up was suspicious.

Whether he realized it or not, Jihong’s expectant gaze settled on Cheongyeon.

“Please eat before it gets cold.”

“I’m not hungry. Leave it there; I’ll eat later.”

“You must see the master empty the container.”

“Eh…?”

Even for that? Might there be poison?

Though he dreaded eating, under Jihong’s watchful eyes, he had no choice. Cheongyeon stood and approached the table. The neatly packed dishes sighed.

“How are you going to eat this?”

“Oh, nothing.”

With trembling hands, Jihong opened the container. To Cheongyeon’s surprise, the food was plentiful and smelled good.

Is it poisoned?

His suspicious gaze scanned the food. Anything could be inside.

“Do you have any dietary restrictions?”

“I avoid all this.”

“…You’re joking, right?”

“Do I really have to eat this now?”

“You must.”

“Can I write a will first?”

“Eh?”

“No, of course not.”

Cheongyeon flopped onto a chair and took a deep breath. Better the punishment first—if he must eat, best to get it over with quickly.

Thinking it over, he realized Muho wouldn’t kill him outright anytime soon. If anything, he’d prolong the pain. So even if the food were poisoned, it wouldn’t be fatal.

He picked up the chopsticks, bracing himself.

As he lifted a piece of meat to his mouth, the sharp gaze of Jihong making no effort to conceal his watchfulness caused beads of sweat to drip down.

“Do you really have to watch so closely?”

“Ah, is it uncomfortable? I’ll turn away then.”

“No, that’s not it. Would you like to eat with me if you haven’t eaten?”

“I’m fine.”

Very well.

Cheongyeon took a shaky breath, steeling himself, then finally bit into the meat.

Its texture and aroma were not much different from any other meat he’d known. Cautiously, he began to chew.

“How is the taste?”

“Better than expected… ugh!”

He nearly spat it out, but stopped with his hand pressed over his mouth. The initial flavor was decent, but as juices seeped out, a strange, unbearable taste overwhelmed him—bitter, sour, salty—so unrecognizable he doubted his own tongue.

“Wh-what is this…?”

“The master specially ordered the meal.”

Jihong answered with a calm smile, his demeanor almost demonic.

“Please finish it.”

Under the gentle pressure, Cheongyeon swallowed roughly. Such awful food almost brought him to tears, but he hardened his heart. Compared to the torments ahead, this would be nothing.

Every bite of the forced meal was silent agony. The Heavenly Demon showed no mercy. This was no mere poison.

This was food torture—a cruel plot from the depths of hell to shatter his spirit.