HDCLSSRS Ch 163

Chapter 163 The Truth (2)

So furious that he had come full circle, he found himself calm instead.

“Why did you do it? Mother cared for Elder Brother as if he were her own flesh and blood. How could you possibly repay that kindness like this?”

“No, Yeon-a. It wasn’t me.”

“Then who was it?”

“I swear it—I did not betray her! It’s just that….”

Seong Muryong, his face drained of all color, opened and closed his mouth several times before he managed to speak again.

“I’ll admit it. It may have been because of my carelessness. I thought I was being cautious, but I did have the feeling that one of the servants might have overheard. Still… who could have known? Who would have imagined that a mere servant could deliver words directly to the Cult Leader?”

“……”

Seong Muyeon clenched his fist.

In the end, Paeng Wongeum had been right. The moment he realized that Seong Muryong had played a part—however indirectly—in his mother’s death, nausea surged up his throat. He could not bear to remain in the same space as him.

“Yeon-a!”

As Seong Muyeon flung open the door of the moving carriage, Seong Muryong shouted after him. He hurriedly tried to pull him back inside and shut the door, but Seong Muyeon shoved him away with vicious force.

“Seventh Young Master? What’s going on?”

Ilgwang, seated on the driver’s bench, brought the carriage to a halt when he heard the commotion. Before it had even fully stopped, Seong Muyeon leapt down.

Seong Muryong followed after him, his steps heavy.

“Yeon-a! Where are you going? I was wrong. If you must vent your anger, then vent it on me! But you can’t just leave like this…! At least let’s go back together. Once we’re there—”

“I truly, utterly despise that place.”

The gaze Seong Muyeon turned back on him was cold enough to be cruel.

“If you keep grabbing at me, I can’t guarantee what I’ll do.”

Turning his back on the Seong Muryong who stood there in a daze, Seong Muyeon walked away. He kept going, letting his feet take him wherever they would.

He had no idea where he should go, nor what he was supposed to do. Everything before his eyes felt shrouded in darkness.

He was certain that, once upon a time, he had longed to slip away alone to some unknown place like this. Yet the person he had been then and the person he was now had grown far too different.

His feet kept catching on tree roots.

When he fell for the third time, Seong Muyeon struggled to rise—but in the end, he gave up, letting his cheek rest against the ground as his strength drained away.

“…What meaning does any of it have?”

What meaning was there in all those desperate efforts to survive?

“I can’t do it anymore.”

He no longer had the strength to stand.

Seong Muyeon closed his eyes.

How much time passed? It felt like a mere instant, and yet also like an eternity. Then came the rustling of bushes. Soon after, hurried footsteps—whether friend or foe, he could not tell—drew close.

With no strength even to lift his eyelids, Seong Muyeon lay there without moving.

“Do as you like….”

He accepted the wave of drowsiness pouring over him, and soon pitch-black darkness descended.

When he regained consciousness, he found himself slung over someone’s back as they ran.

“You’re awake.”

At the familiar voice, he lifted his head. When he recognized the face of the man carrying him, Seong Muyeon’s eyes widened.

“Namgung Cheonchu…?”

Namgung Cheonchu turned his head and flashed a crooked grin.

“It’s been a while, Young Master Seong Muyeon.”

“H-How is it that the Young Lord is here? And how did you know to find me…?”

Murmuring blankly, Seong Muyeon suddenly snapped back to his senses.

“P-Please put me down! If others see the Young Lord together with me, it will cause serious trouble.”

“Stay still! You’ll fall!”

As Seong Muyeon struggled to climb down from his back, Namgung Cheonchu tightened his arms firmly around him.

“Let’s talk once we reach somewhere safe.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

Seong Muyeon muttered, his heart weighed down.

“The Young Lord may not know the circumstances here, but there are reasons—”

“I came knowing everything, so you needn’t worry. Haven’t I told you several times already? You are the benefactor who saved my life. Hearing that from you is rather hurtful.”

“Young Lord….”

“I wasn’t speaking idly. The Namgung Clan does not forget its debts. The moment I heard that Young Master Seong Muyeon had been imprisoned, I set out at once. Thankfully, it seems I wasn’t too late.”

“What if I truly had killed Young Master Paeng Wongeum?”

Namgung Cheonchu fell silent for a moment. Then, in his usual bright tone, he replied,

“It’s tragic what happened to Young Master Paeng, but that is a separate matter. I am merely repaying the debt I owe my benefactor.”

“……”

At last, Seong Muyeon stopped struggling. He had no strength left to move even a finger.

“…How did you know I was here?”

“I nearly ended up wasting time in the wrong place. I came in such haste that I couldn’t even bring my subordinates, so I had to run around on my own. When I arrived at the Jegal Clan, it was utter chaos.”

Namgung Cheonchu answered with a laugh. Seong Muyeon tried to focus on his words, but his vision blurred, and his head began to spin.

“Ah… the medicine’s effect….”

“But just then, I received some timely help. That person said that—. Young Master? Young Master!”

Along with Namgung Cheonchu’s urgent voice, Seong Muyeon slipped once more into unconsciousness.

Two days later.

When those who had departed from the Paeng Clan of Hebei arrived, the estate had yet to fully recover from the traces of the battle that had taken place the day before.

Paeng Dohwan and the Paeng Clan Head, having ridden without rest, were left speechless by the horrific sight. What made matters even more infuriating was the fact that the murderer, Seong Muyeon, had already fled.

And on top of that—

“They say the bastards even stole Young Master Paeng’s body.”

“Those inhuman scoundrels.”

People only belatedly realized that Paeng Wongeum’s corpse had vanished, but by then the Demonic Cultists had long since disappeared without a trace.

Unable to contain his rage and grief any longer, Paeng Dohwan let out a scream that had nowhere to go. The pain contained in that cry was so deep that even those who heard it trembled.

Bloody tears streamed from Paeng Dohwan’s eyes.

The Paeng Clan Head, who had so vainly lost his heir, trembled from head to toe with fury. He clenched his fists so tightly in his effort to restrain himself that his fingernails bit into his palms, droplets of blood falling to the ground.

Baek Ryeoil watched the scene from within the crowd alongside his fellow martial brothers. Having lost consciousness after being struck by the Certificate Poison, he had remained under the care of the Medical Hall until only recently regaining his senses.

“That insidious Seong Muyeon—so he finally went and did it.”

“They say he displayed tremendous power after taking the elixir. Is that true?”

“Of course it is! I saw it with my own eyes! That scrawny fellow who looked like he’d collapse if you flicked him—he took down the Demonic Cult’s Third Young Master with a single blow! We were deceived. Thoroughly deceived.”

Kang Ung narrowed his eyes and fiercely glared at the whispering onlookers. He was just about to step forward to say something when Sanggeol stopped him.

“What would you accomplish by going over there? Whatever the case, isn’t it the truth?”

“But, Martial Uncle…!”

Sanggeol shook his head firmly, and Kang Ung obediently shut his mouth.

Before anyone realized it, the entire tragedy that had occurred at the estate had been laid squarely at Seong Muyeon’s feet. Even the fact that Seong Muyeon and Seong Mugeuk had fought was passed from mouth to mouth until it was concluded to have been nothing more than a momentary internal dispute.

“……”

When even Baek Ryeoil, who had been standing there in silence, turned and walked away, Kang Ung instinctively tried to follow. Yet once again, Sanggeol stopped him.

“That one needs time alone to sort out his thoughts.”

Even as he said it, Sanggeol’s own eyes were sunken. Though his body bore no severe injuries, his heart was weighed down beyond measure. Ever since his cherished disciple Jang Hansu regained consciousness, having suffered something at Seong Muyeon’s hands, he had remained dazed, barely able to speak properly.

Sanggeol cast a brief glance at Paeng Dohwan, who was venting his pent-up fury by pounding the ground with his fists, then clicked his tongue.

“There isn’t a single place left untouched by ruin.”

Walking without purpose, Baek Ryeoil found himself standing before he knew it in the middle of the sitting room of the residence the Jegal Clan had provided him—where he had recently been staying.

It looked exactly as it had when he left, as though no one had touched it in the meantime.

With a heavy expression, Baek Ryeoil swept his gaze across the room, until it came to rest on the door to Seong Muyeon’s room.

Creak.

As he opened it, Seong Muyeon’s familiar scent wafted out to greet him. Though it had not been long since he had stayed here, traces of him lingered everywhere.

Yet Baek Ryeoil’s eyes were dry to the extreme.

Then something caught his attention.

Five jars of liquor that Seong Muyeon had purchased were lined up conspicuously on the table.

As if drawn by a magnet, he drifted closer.

“I’ll savor the rest properly when I come back….”

This was the first time he had set foot in the room since Seong Muyeon had spoken those words and left.

From the neatly arranged liquor jars, Baek Ryeoil could feel Seong Muyeon’s touch. He must have set them out so they would be the first thing to catch the eye upon returning. For him… for Baek Ryeoil.

Baek Ryeoil’s face twisted savagely.

He hurled the jar he was holding. It shattered against the wall, shards of porcelain scattering in all directions as the contents streamed down in rivulets. Not stopping there, he swept his arm roughly across the table, sending the remaining jars crashing to the floor. After drawing ragged breaths for a long moment, he sank down heavily.

Baek Ryeoil stared blankly at the broken shards of glass. He watched for a long while as the clear, potent liquor seeped across the wooden floor, staining it dark.

Then, suddenly, he lifted his head.

“…Was the world always this quiet?”

Something was wrong.