OGHOU C44

Chapter 44

“That innkeeper! I’m sure of it! I—I never forget a face! You’re going to get me out of here, right? Right?”

The middle-aged man’s eyes glinted with a deranged, feverish light as he stammered and laughed hysterically. His hair was a tangled mess, his cheeks hollow as though he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in days. Through the gap in the iron bars, Cheongyeon could see that only two of his fingers remained on his rough, calloused hand.

“What in the world…”

Cheongyeon bit down hard on his lower lip. He had never imagined he would see this man again—let alone in a place like this, and in such a pitiful state.

It was none other than Mr. Jang, the gambler who had once frequented Cheongyeon’s inn nearly every day, organizing drinking parties with his companions. He was the same man who had vanished after being dragged away by thugs at the gambling den he’d gone to with Merchant Lord Songwon nine years ago. Cheongyeon had thought him dead all this time, yet here he was—alive. Words failed him.

So that’s why he brought me here—to show me this.

Cheongyeon turned sharply toward Jihong, intending to demand an explanation, but the man looked even more startled than he was.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“That… I’m not sure myself…”

Jihong trailed off, hastily stepping up the stairs to block the doorway and pulling the iron cover down. He even placed a hand on Cheongyeon’s shoulder, as if to urge him back a few steps.

“If you could please step back a little—uh!”

As he gently pushed Cheongyeon’s shoulder, Jihong suddenly gasped. His eyes widened in shock, his expression freezing in disbelief. Slowly, almost mechanically, he turned his head toward the foot of the stairs.

Cheongyeon followed his gaze. The far end of the underground corridor, distant from the faint lamplight, was still shrouded in darkness. Everything was silent—eerily so. Seeing and sensing nothing unusual, Cheongyeon looked back at Jihong. A single bead of sweat rolled down the man’s face.

Then came a heavy thud. Jihong dropped to one knee. Almost instantly, the men standing behind him followed suit. The sudden movement left Cheongyeon frozen, staring blankly down the stairs.

“M-My lord!”

At Jihong’s urgent cry, a shadow cleaved through the darkness and stepped into the dim light.

Emerging from the shadows was their master—the Cult Leader of the Heavenly Demon Cult.

Muho ascended the stairs with eyes colder than ever before. Behind the door, Mr. Jang had gone utterly silent, shrinking into himself. Among the three subordinates kneeling on the floor, only Cheongyeon remained standing, his bewildered eyes locked on Muho’s face.

Just meeting his gaze made Cheongyeon’s heart quake with fear, but he didn’t look away. That face, still strange and unfamiliar, somehow suited the darkness far too well.

Mustering his courage, Cheongyeon spoke first.

“Is it him?”

“……”

“Is he the one who betrayed you back then? Is that why you’ve locked him up here?”

Muho stopped a few steps below him, his eyes fixed on Cheongyeon but his lips sealed. Jihong’s shoulders twitched in alarm at the informality in Cheongyeon’s tone toward his master.

“I—I didn’t do anything… I swear I didn’t do anything wrong… Why am I even here…”

The pitiful muttering came from Mr. Jang’s cell. Frustrated by Muho’s silence, Cheongyeon glared at him. That was when he noticed the object in Muho’s hand.

It was hard to make out in the dim light, but it seemed to be a flat, oval-shaped black object—something with small holes pierced through it.

Sensing Cheongyeon’s gaze, Muho’s hand tensed. In the next moment, the object crumbled into fine dust, scattering into the air.

Muho slowly climbed the remaining steps until he stopped just below where Cheongyeon stood. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and cold.

“Who told you to bring him here?”

Though his eyes were on Cheongyeon, it was clear his words were directed at Jihong.

“M-my lord, I’m terribly sorry. I’ll escort him out immediately.”

Muho’s gaze shifted downward to the kneeling Jihong. Even without a word, his very presence exuded a killing intent so palpable that Cheongyeon felt uneasy just watching.

Then came the sound of bones crunching.

Muho’s boot had pressed down upon Jihong’s hand, grinding it mercilessly into the floor. The hand beneath turned red, then purple, as veins bulged along Jihong’s temple from the effort of suppressing a scream.

“The next time, I’ll sever your meridians.”

His voice was so cold it could have frozen the entire underground prison solid.

After delivering that single warning, Muho resumed his ascent, passing by them without another glance.

Cheongyeon looked down at Jihong’s mangled hand, horror filling his chest. He wanted to grab Muho, to demand what the hell he thought he was doing—but he couldn’t open his mouth.

This was Muho’s territory, his domain.

Here, his word was law.

Cheongyeon had no right to speak.

Feeling the burning weight of a gaze on his back, Muho stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at Cheongyeon. His sharp eyes swept over the nape of Cheongyeon’s neck, exposed by the way his hair had been tied up.

In the blink of an eye, a dark sleeve brushed past his vision. By the time Cheongyeon realized what had happened, his neatly tied hair had come loose, falling over his shoulders. Muho was already walking away, the blue ribbon that had held Cheongyeon’s hair now dangling from his hand.

Cheongyeon could only give a dazed, hollow laugh.

Once they emerged from the underground prison, Cheongyeon glanced sidelong at Jihong’s hand. Under the light, the damage looked even worse. The bruised fingers were twisted like dried squid legs, yet Jihong’s expression remained calm, as if nothing had happened.

“Is your hand alright?”

“Hmm? Ah, yes, it’s fine.”

“But you’re a martial artist. What will you do if your hand’s injured?”

“This much will heal quickly.”

“Should I at least wrap it in a bandage?”

Of course, Cheongyeon didn’t have any bandages on hand, but seeing the man’s battered hand made him feel sorry enough to offer anyway. Jihong, however, flinched as though burned and waved his uninjured hand frantically.

“N-no! Really, it’s fine!”

He even took a step back from Cheongyeon—and then another, as if terrified that even brushing against his clothes might bring disaster.

As they walked back to the room, Cheongyeon spoke again.

“The man locked in the prison… what will happen to him?”

“It would be better to ask the Lord directly.”

“……”

As if he’d answer if I did.

Still, one thing had become clear from all this—Muho had no intention of imprisoning or killing him. Of course, his life was as insignificant as a fly’s in Muho’s presence, and it wouldn’t be strange if he changed his mind at any moment. But somehow, Cheongyeon was certain—he wouldn’t.

Lost in thought, Cheongyeon was jolted back to reality by the sound of children’s laughter.

Children? In the cult’s stronghold?

The incongruity startled him, and he looked around. It didn’t take long to spot them—a group of children playing together under a low stone wall.

“Who are those kids?”

At his question, Jihong brightened, a proud smile lighting up his face.

“They’re the children who were once imprisoned in the underground cells. When our Lord ascended, he released them all. Some had no homes to return to—orphans. Those ones stayed here.”

“I see…”

“Our Lord deemed them too young to begin training in demonic arts, so aside from their lessons in reading and writing, they are free to play as they wish. They currently live alongside the lay disciples, and when they grow older, they will choose their own paths.”

So Muho’s… soft when it comes to kids?

This unexpected discovery made Cheongyeon’s thoughts even more tangled.

Just then, one of the children spotted him and froze, eyes wide.

The child leapt up and ran straight toward him.

With sparkling eyes, the little one gazed up at Cheongyeon and exclaimed,

“Fairy Lady! You’re a fairy from the storybook, aren’t you?”

“Me?”

Cheongyeon blinked and pointed to himself, confused.

The child nodded enthusiastically and called to the others.

In no time, Cheongyeon was surrounded by a ring of curious faces, their eyes full of wonder.

“Fairy Lady, why are you here?”

“Oh, uh—I was brought here—no, I just came! But why do you think I’m a fairy?”

“Why did you untie your hair?”

“Someone stole my ribbon…”

“Wow! So that’s why you can’t return to the heavens?”

Good grief. One at a time, please!

Overwhelmed by the barrage of questions, Cheongyeon’s head spun. Fortunately, Jihong stepped in, his tone stern.

“Silence, you insolent brats.”

The children immediately cowered. Watching Jihong frown and glare, they scattered in terror, running off like frightened chicks. Cheongyeon couldn’t help a small, awkward laugh.

“You didn’t have to scold them…”

“They’ve been surrounded by grim-faced men all their lives. Recently they’ve started reading books and seem captivated by tales of celestial maidens. Please forgive them.”

“Celestial maidens… The Heavenly Demon Cult believes in that sort of thing?”

“The Cult under our Lord’s rule is not what it once was. The religious fervor has faded, and there’s no longer any indoctrination of children. They’re free to read whatever stories they like. Our Lord does not interfere.”

In the original world Cheongyeon remembered, the cult was pure evil—fanatics worshiping the Heavenly Demon with blind devotion.

And yet now, to hear that the children were no longer brainwashed—it left him deeply unsettled.

Is this really okay?

One way or another, Cheongyeon was returned to his room and confined again.

The thought of spending his days here, bored out of his mind, made him sigh.

Truly, he was no different from a fairy who had her feathered robe stolen by the Heavenly Demon himself.

Footnotes

 

1. Celestial Maiden (선녀, Seonnyeo) — A mythological figure from Korean and East Asian folklore; heavenly maidens who descend to earth, often losing their feathered robes and being unable to return to the heavens.