HDCLSSRS Ch 142

Chapter 142 Gift(3)

In a way, it was only natural.

In this mad, chaotic world, Paeng Wongeum was one of the few people who fit Seong Muyeon’s exacting standards of decency and reason. It was only human to want to hold on to someone who still spoke with sense—a rare soul with whom one could truly communicate.

Eventually, Seong Muyeon exhaled and opened his mouth.

“Lord Paeng, about that matter—”

“There’s no need to explain,” Paeng Wongeum said gently. “I judge people only by what I know of them. You, Young Master Seong, have nothing to feel ashamed of. Don’t let yourself shrink away. I doubt those people acted out of malice; it’s simply that, given the circumstances, their fear got the better of them.”

‘…You really do see the world in too kind a light, don’t you?’

Still, he couldn’t deny the wave of relief washing over him. Deep down, he had feared that Paeng Wongeum might have turned away from him like all the others—cold, distant, and disappointed.

“But… the younger Paeng heir isn’t here. Where is he?”

Seong Muyeon glanced around in search of him. Wherever the elder heir appeared, the younger was usually close behind. But today, Paeng Dohwan was nowhere to be found.

“He’s not here,” Paeng Wongeum replied, a faintly rueful smile curving his lips. “I sent him back to our family estate.”

“The main house?”

Paeng Wongeum nodded.

“Yes. Things are looking serious, so the Paeng family in Hebei intends to send formal support to the alliance. I planned to dispatch a messenger, but he insisted he was faster and left himself.”

“That’s wonderful news!”

The Paeng family of Hebei was renowned for its formidable martial prowess. Their support would strengthen the alliance immensely.

Seong Muyeon smiled brightly—but then froze. A sharp chill ran down his spine.

As they spoke, they had already reached the manor—and it didn’t take long to locate the source of that frigid aura. Far ahead, Baek Ryeoil stood, watching him intently.

Leaving the others behind, Baek Ryeoil strode toward them with long, unhurried steps.

“Out for a stroll, were you?”

Paeng Wongeum smiled faintly and inclined his head toward him. “Baek Dojang,” he greeted casually. Baek Ryeoil gave a curt nod in return, though his eyes remained fixed on Seong Muyeon the entire time.

“I happened to run into Young Master Seong at the marketplace,” Paeng Wongeum explained with an easy smile.

Baek Ryeoil’s eyes flicked toward him briefly before returning to Seong Muyeon, his expression souring further.

“What’s that look for now?” Seong Muyeon muttered under his breath, his lips pursing in faint irritation.

“I just went out for some fresh air. Is there a problem with that?”

The two locked eyes, neither willing to yield an inch. The tension between them was palpable.

Caught between them, Paeng Wongeum could only smile awkwardly.

“Well, I should take my leave. There’s still work to attend to.”

At that, Seong Muyeon’s face transformed instantly—his entire demeanor brightening like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Of course, of course! Please, go ahead! It was great seeing you—ha ha!”

Baek Ryeoil growled low in his throat as Seong Muyeon waved enthusiastically until Paeng Wongeum disappeared around the corner.

“You really have a way of treating people differently, you know that?”

“What are you talking about now?”

Seong Muyeon turned sharply, clutching the bag holding the wine jars tightly to his chest, trying to keep it out of sight.

“Shouldn’t you be busy? People over there seem to be waiting for you. You should hurry back.”

He shooed him away with an exaggerated wave of his hand.

“See?! You’re doing it again!” Baek Ryeoil snapped. “You totally play favorites!”

To be fair, Seong Muyeon was annoyed. Going from a gentle, intelligent conversation with a refined man like Paeng Wongeum to being scowled at by Baek Ryeoil—it would sour anyone’s mood.

And on top of that, he was desperately trying to hide a gift that was meant to be a surprise. If Baek Ryeoil found out now, the entire plan would be ruined.

“Just wait. I’ll deal with you later,” Baek Ryeoil grumbled, finally turning away when his name was called from across the courtyard.

“Phew… I think we dodged that one,” Seong Muyeon whispered, wiping the sweat from his brow as he turned to Seomun Yuha.

But the young man was staring at him with a suspicious glint in his eyes.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What’s this ‘incident’ you two were talking about earlier?”

“Ah…”

Only then did Seong Muyeon realize he had completely forgotten Seomun Yuha’s presence while speaking with Paeng Wongeum.

“I thought something was weird. People keep giving you strange looks even now. Something did happen, didn’t it? What was it?”

When Seong Muyeon hesitated, Seomun Yuha pressed harder, his voice rising in dramatic complaint.

“Wow, so that’s how it is, huh? I thought we were closer than that! You don’t trust me enough to tell me?”

By the time they reached the room, Seong Muyeon was so exhausted from his pestering that his head throbbed.

“Fine! I’ll tell you—just calm down and come inside!”

Satisfied, Seomun Yuha smoothed out his disheveled robe and strutted across the room to take a seat at the table, his expression prim and expectant.

“Go on then. I’m listening.”

“…Listen, Young Master Seomun,” Kang Ung interjected sternly before Seong Muyeon could speak. “Everyone has things in their past they don’t want to discuss. When someone says no, you should respect that.”

His tone was sharp—he had never liked Seomun Yuha’s nosy tendencies. But Seomun Yuha merely chuckled.

“It’s fine, Dojang Kang. It’s not a secret anymore, anyway.”

Fearing another argument, Seong Muyeon quickly intervened and, choosing his words carefully, recounted the recent incident in neutral terms. It was all over now—there was no point in stirring up more trouble.

As the story unfolded, Seomun Yuha’s expression shifted from shock to pity, then to barely restrained fury.

“So that’s what happened,” Seong Muyeon concluded, sipping the tea Kang Ung had quietly placed before him. He could finally speak of it now with detachment, as though it were someone else’s story.

“Young Master Seomun?”

Seomun Yuha’s clenched fists trembled violently atop the table. Then, after a long silence, he suddenly threw his head back and shouted—

“Should I go and teach them a lesson?!”

With fiery determination, he rolled up his sleeves—revealing a pair of slender, barely muscled arms.

“That Yang Hagak, was it? I’ll make him pay for running his mouth! What’s a few deaths compared to that kind of slander?! As if they’re paragons of virtue! On my family’s honor, I won’t let this go unpunished!”

It took both Seong Muyeon and Kang Ung’s frantic efforts to calm him down.

Even Bang Gyeom, swept up by the passion of the moment, raised his hand weakly.

“…The Great Sage teaches that one must never expose another’s flaws or faults. As a humble cultivator, I too cannot let this injustice stand.”

“Finally, someone who gets it! Excellent, Dojang Kang! Grab your sword!”

“Uh… perhaps without the violence…”

“I’ll join too!”

Bang Gyeom, inspired, jumped to his feet. Seomun Yuha blinked at him in confusion.

“Who are you again? Since when were you here?”

“I… never left…”

“Oh! You’re the guy who was crying earlier!”

Bang Gyeom slumped back against the wall, defeated, as though an old wound had just been reopened.

Suppressing a laugh, Seong Muyeon said firmly, “Enough, all of you. What’s done is done. We don’t need to stir up more trouble now. The alliance is preparing for battle—provoking them helps no one.”

“Tch…”

When the commotion died down, silence fell once more. After a while, Seomun Yuha, turning a teacup in his hands, spoke thoughtfully.

“Still, how did that Yang Hagak fellow even know about your past?”

The question hit like an arrow. Seong Muyeon frowned slightly.

“He claimed to have an informant, but the details he knew were far too specific. That information was buried even within the Demonic Sect. No outsider could’ve known it. Baek Dojang and I both found it suspicious…”

Since that night, Yang Hagak had vanished—apparently too terrified to show his face again. Whether he was still in the manor at all was anyone’s guess.

“Do you think he’s one of the Third Young Master’s men?”

Bang Gyeom asked quietly, now composed again. But there was doubt in his voice, and Seong Muyeon shared it. The idea that Yang Hagak was one of Seong Muguk’s spies felt too far-fetched.

“…Why not visit the local branch office instead?” Bang Gyeom suggested hesitantly.

“Branch office?”

“Yes. This region is under the supervision of the Second Young Master. I avoided it while on the run, but you, Seventh Young Master—you’re close with him, aren’t you? If you’re looking for clues, that might be the best place to start.”

“…Right.”

The Second Young Master, Seong Muryong, was the sibling he’d been closest to among the seven brothers.

But—

Seong Muyeon’s face clouded. His last memory of Seong Muryong was of him being beaten nearly to death by Baek Ryeoil.