HDCLSSRS Ch 144

Chapter 144 Gift(5)

Suddenly, Baek Ryeoil’s gaze dropped to Seong Muyeon’s throat.

Their scuffle had left his collar loose, his neckline open.

Anger and conflict were still emotions — fierce, blazing, and physical. Their shouting had stirred the blood, sent it coursing hot through their veins, swelling their muscles tight and flushed. Muyeon’s heart thundered, the pulse quickening beneath his skin, tinting it crimson, and even his lips burned faintly with heat.

When Baek Ryeoil lifted his eyes again, Muyeon’s breathing had turned faintly uneven. Something in the air between them shifted — no longer anger, but a tension that coiled differently, charged with an entirely new kind of heat.

Whether born of fury or desire, heat was heat all the same. And bodies burning with it so easily forgot their original intent.

Muyeon could not tear his gaze away from the fervent expression on Baek Ryeoil’s face. The closer he stepped, the closer Muyeon leaned in response. Their breaths mingled — his own heartbeat grew so loud he worried Ryeoil might hear it.

And then—

“Dojang. Are you here?”

A voice came from outside. Both froze instantly. It was Jang Hansu.

“I’m coming in, all right?”

The sound of a door sliding open followed — not Muyeon’s, but the one next door.

“Dojang, what brings you here?” Kang Ung asked hesitantly. The boy must have seen his master barge into Muyeon’s room earlier — and surely, he had heard the sound of their quarrel.

“The Master has summoned you. I saw you come in here myself. Where did you go?”

“Ah…”

“Is he in Seong Muyeon’s room, then?”

Footsteps drew closer. Baek Ryeoil clicked his tongue in irritation, then quickly straightened up and helped Muyeon sit properly. He smoothed Muyeon’s disheveled hair and waited calmly for Jang Hansu to appear, as though nothing at all had happened.

But—

“D-Don’t go in there, Dojang!”

“Hm?”

“The Master isn’t inside. He’s… he’s gone out!”

“What nonsense. I clearly saw him come in here.”

“He must have stepped out again. You must’ve missed him.”

Both Muyeon and Ryeoil stared blankly at each other, unable to comprehend why Kang Ung was lying so desperately.

A brief silence passed — then the sound of Jang Hansu’s footsteps came nearer, headed unmistakably toward Muyeon’s room.

“D-Dojang, I said he isn’t there!”

“Why are you being so suspicious? What are you hiding? I’ll check for myself!”

“Dojang!”

The sound of their struggle filled the hall.

“…We’ve got no choice,” Muyeon whispered. “If he says we’re not here and they find us, Kang Ung will be in trouble.”

“So what?” Ryeoil muttered.

“I have to pretend I’m asleep!”

Muyeon hastily shoved Baek Ryeoil beneath the bed and climbed on top, pulling the blanket all the way up to his chin.

What a mess…

If they’d just stayed quiet, none of this would’ve been necessary.

Moments later, the door creaked open. Pretending to have just woken, Muyeon blinked and rubbed his eyes, turning toward Jang Hansu, who was scanning the room with sharp suspicion. Behind him, Kang Ung stood rigid, eyes squeezed shut in nervous agony.

“What’s the matter?” Muyeon asked.

“Well, I—” Jang Hansu trailed off, eyes narrowing as he examined the room again. Seeing Muyeon alone on the bed, Kang Ung sighed in visible relief.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“You sleep fully dressed, I see?”

“I must have dozed off for a bit. Is something wrong?” Muyeon asked casually, adjusting his hair.

“…Tell your Dojang we were looking for him when he returns.”

“Is it urgent?”

“Not especially.”

“Then I’ll let him know.”

“Good.”

Muyeon politely escorted him out. When he was certain they’d gone, he turned to Kang Ung.

“Dojang, I don’t know why you lied, but that wasn’t necessary.”

“S-Sorry… I just thought… it might cause trouble…”

“What kind of trouble?”

“Well…”

Muyeon tilted his head, puzzled, but before he could press further, Baek Ryeoil crawled out from under the bed — clutching several earthenware jars in his arms.

“This is Baekhwa-ro!¹”

“Ah!”

No matter how much effort he’d put into hiding them, he’d been caught red-handed. Muyeon tried to snatch them back from Ryeoil’s hands.

“Can’t you pretend you didn’t see that? It’s obviously hidden for a reason!”

“Didn’t you buy it for me? Don’t tell me you planned to drink it yourself.”

Ryeoil’s grip tightened protectively around the jars.

“Do you know how much this costs? You think I’d spend that much just to give you alcohol? You really have no sense, do you?”

He slapped Ryeoil’s hand lightly and wrestled the jars free, grumbling as he stuffed them into the drawer.

When the room went quiet again, Muyeon looked up — only to find Ryeoil staring at him, lips parted slightly, eyes trembling.

Flustered by the intensity of that gaze, Muyeon’s face grew hot.

“I only bought it because I promised, remember? I’m just keeping my word!”

“R-Right. You did say that,” Ryeoil stammered.

But his ears were turning pink.

The silence that followed was unbearably awkward — until Kang Ung abruptly broke it by bolting out of the room without so much as a goodbye.

“Kang Ung?” Muyeon called, frowning at his odd behavior.

He didn’t have time to think further before a strong arm wrapped around his waist and yanked him close.

The next instant, Ryeoil’s lips claimed his.

Muyeon almost arched back from the suddenness of it, glancing nervously at the door. Kang Ung had definitely realized what they were doing — their supposedly righteous relationship now caught in the most unrighteous act imaginable.

Judging by Ryeoil’s complete lack of panic, he’d probably known they’d been found out and didn’t care.

And yet — all such thoughts scattered as the hot press of Ryeoil’s tongue slid against his own, erasing every rational word from his mind.

When Muyeon came back to himself, he was already lying on his back on the bed, Ryeoil’s kisses raining down on him.

“Jang Hansu was looking for you,” Muyeon murmured breathlessly. “Shouldn’t you… ah… go?”

“He said it wasn’t urgent.”

Cool air brushed his skin as Ryeoil’s hands parted his robes. The man pressed his face to Muyeon’s sternum, inhaling deeply as though savoring his scent.

When the sharp tip of his tongue flicked against Muyeon’s hardened chest, a broken sound escaped from deep within his throat.

“N-No, we can’t… someone might hear us…”

“They’ve already left.”

With a dissatisfied growl, Ryeoil grabbed him. His half-risen length hardened instantly under his touch.

“Don’t think about anyone else when you’re with me.”

“It’s not that, I just— ah…”

The rest of the thought dissolved into a shiver as Muyeon trembled under him, unable to resist.

Yet their heated tangle came to a sudden halt when voices sounded in the distance — Jang Hansu and his disciples still searching for Ryeoil.

“Damn it,” Ryeoil muttered, wiping his hand with a cloth. A faint flush burned his cheeks — from frustration as much as from lingering desire.

“I’ll be right back.”

He cleaned Muyeon’s trembling body with slow, lingering motions before leaving the room in perfect composure.

But contrary to his words, Baek Ryeoil did not return quickly. It was late into the night — almost dawn — when the door finally creaked open again.

Muyeon stirred awake at the feel of a hand shaking him gently. The sky outside was still dark.

“Dojang?”

“Shh.”

Ryeoil lowered his voice. “The alliance has decided. We’re launching a surprise attack on the Ghost-Slaying Squad before sunrise.”

The words jolted Muyeon fully awake.

“Already? But the Paeng Clan hasn’t even joined us yet!”

It would take days for Paeng Dohwan to return with the warriors of the Northern Paeng Clan.

“That was Paeng Wongeum’s plan all along,” Ryeoil explained briskly. “He’s been stalling — sending requests for reinforcements here and there to make it look like the alliance wasn’t ready. He wants to deny the spies any time to react.”

Muyeon frowned with worry. Ryeoil caught his expression and said coldly, “I have a debt to settle. I can’t live with what they did.”

He gripped the hilt of his sword, his resolve as sharp as the blade itself.

Muyeon nodded slowly. This time, they were the ones on the offensive — no longer prey, but hunters. They were prepared, surrounded by masters ready to draw their swords.

“Please be careful,” Muyeon said softly.

He had no doubt Ryeoil would return alive — yet his tense face refused to ease. After all, Ryeoil had only just recovered from his injuries. What if there were lingering effects?

Ryeoil glanced back at him. The hard edge in his face softened slightly. His palm brushed against Muyeon’s cheek — warm, rough, and grounding.

“Why the long face?” he murmured. “You look like the kind who wouldn’t flinch even if the world burned down.”

¹ Baekhwa-ro (백화로) — A high-grade traditional liquor, often used in literature to symbolize affection or apology; expensive enough that gifting it is a sign of deep regard.