HDCLSSRS Ch 22

Chapter 22 A Humble Man in a Noble Place (7)

“…I can’t believe this. You’re so good with numbers…! What a remarkable talent! Please, go on to the next ledger! We’ve got so many more to verify!”

They neatly stacked the ledgers in front of Seong Muyeon. He asked reluctantly,

“But aren’t these documents top secret? Is it really okay for me to look at them?”

“You’re mistaken. If they were truly classified, we wouldn’t be stacking them like this. We’d store them in the secure vault. And this isn’t the time for that kind of work anyway. Look at the entries. It’s nothing important.”

Seong Muyeon read through the ledgers carefully. They mostly consisted of food purchase lists and various material procurements.

“Well then, I’ll do my best…”

But he didn’t get to finish his sentence.

Crash—!

Suddenly, the door of the hall flew open with a thunderous bang. Amid the cloud of dust stood Baek Ryeoil. Somehow, he had managed to untie the ropes, and though his arms were now free, his disheveled appearance was unchanged, his head still covered in white sand.

“Baek-sahyung(Senior Brother! What happened to you—?”

“Out of the way, Seong Muyeon! So this is where you’ve been! You’re dead meat!”

Baek Ryeoil charged at Seong Muyeon.

“Aaaaack! I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”

Seong Muyeon frantically crawled under the desk. Baek Ryeoil leaned over the desk and flailed his arms wildly, but by then, Seong Muyeon had already slipped out the other side.

In the commotion, papers, ledgers, and abacuses flew through the air.

The Taoist disciples grabbed onto Baek Ryeoil’s shoulders. Others clung to each of his legs.

“Sahyung! Please calm down! If this keeps up, we’ll be here all night again!”

“Get over here! Come here, now!”

Seong Muyeon, hiding behind the Taoist who seemed to be the highest-ranking one present aside from Baek Ryeoil, shouted,

“I told you it wasn’t on purpose!”

“Oh, sure! And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“What kind of fart sounds like that?! That was clearly speech!”

“Always have to get the last word, don’t you?!”

As Baek Ryeoil thrashed, the people clinging to his limbs were lifted with him.

“Hold him tight, Masters! If you let go, I’m dead!”

“Please calm down, Sahyung!”

It took quite a while for Baek Ryeoil to finally calm down. He roughly shook off the disciples clinging to his arms and legs, still fuming.

“So what exactly happened between you two?” one of the disciples asked.

Baek Ryeoil glared at Seong Muyeon, still seething.

“That bastard ran off, so we had to search the Guardian Hall, the military division, and even the kitchen! And he was hiding here all along.”

“Y-you must’ve had a hard time.”

“He threw sand in my face! I couldn’t even train because of him!”

“Well, who told you to tie someone to a tree in the first place?!”

The two began yelling at each other, pointing fingers.

“Enough, both of you… So to sum it up: Sahyung had to go train but didn’t want the young master to run off, so he tied him to a tree before leaving. That upset the young master, who threw sand in his face and escaped.”

The disciple explaining looked utterly exhausted.

“And that’s not all! That bastard tied me up too!”

“…Didn’t you tie him up first?”

“How is that the same thing?!”

“Then let’s do this. Tomorrow morning, when Sahyung goes to train, leave the young master with us. We’ll take responsibility for watching over him.”

“Huh?”

It was a decent proposal. Baek Ryeoil could train in peace, Seong Muyeon wouldn’t be mistreated, and the Finance Department disciples could get an extra helping hand. It was a win-win-win solution—everyone benefited.

Baek Ryeoil agreed to the plan and turned to leave for his delayed training session. Before he left, he gave the disciple one last warning.

“Be careful. That bastard might throw sand at you too. Always keep a close eye on him. Got it?”

“Haha, yes… I’ll be vigilant. You’d better get going.”

Baek Ryeoil shot Seong Muyeon a final sharp look before closing the door behind him.

“Whew, it felt like a storm just blew through.”

“I’m sorry. This was my fault.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m Wang Hojun, a second-generation disciple in the Finance Department. I look forward to working with you, Young Master Seong Muyeon.”

“The pleasure’s mine.”

And so, Seong Muyeon was freed from his morning bindings.

Every morning, Baek Ryeoil would drop Seong Muyeon off at the Finance Department, where he would help out with the work. After morning training, Baek Ryeoil would come to pick him up, and they’d return to Chwijungjae for meals and to spend the rest of the day.

It was a good arrangement for Seong Muyeon too. He’d gone stir-crazy being holed up in his room all the time, and now he had a reason to get out and something to focus on.

That day as well, he was clicking away at an abacus in the Finance Department.

With the vast number of disciples in Mount Hua, the volume of supply orders was massive. Thanks to his help, the accounting work was being wrapped up quickly.

“Young Master Seong, are you alright? You don’t look well.”

“Ah.”

Seong Muyeon was feeling unwell that day.

It happened from time to time. As long as he didn’t overdo it, he could function normally. But when things got worse like this, all he could do was curl up and wait for it to pass.

He’d felt off since morning, but still went to the Finance Department as usual. If he suddenly didn’t show up, Baek Ryeoil would start interrogating him, and Seong Muyeon didn’t want to deal with explaining.

He figured he’d have to take it easy today.

“I’m sorry, I need to rest for a moment…”

As he tried to stand, the sky spun. His vision blurred and a wave of nausea hit him hard.

Blood poured from his nose.

He collapsed backward without resistance.

“Young master!”

Someone caught him just in time. The last thing he saw before passing out were the blurred, worried faces of disciples rushing toward him.

Damn it.

Seong Muyeon slowly came to, his mind clearing as voices murmured around him. Someone was checking his pulse and feeling his forehead.

“How is he? Is he alright?”

“…This is serious.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“It’s hard to say exactly what the cause is… but this isn’t normal. His body’s balance is completely off. It’s astonishing he was even able to move around like this.”

“T-this won’t do…! We must call Baek Ryeoil Sahyung immediately!”

“Please don’t.”

Seong Muyeon sat up as he spoke. Wang Hojun, who had been about to dash out the door, hurried back when he saw that Muyeon was awake.

“Young master Seong! Are you alright?”

“Please don’t tell anyone. I’m begging you.”

Seong Muyeon addressed the disciples standing around the bed. Most of them were familiar faces from the Finance Department. Among them was a middle-aged man in white who seemed to have examined him—probably from the Medical Hall.

“Why would you say that? You knew your health was bad—why hide it? You should be cared for properly. If you go on living like any other person, it could be fatal…”

“Yes, I know. Please, say no more.”

As he tried to get out of bed, the disciples surged forward to help him. He politely waved them off and rose to his feet on his own.

He felt a little dizzy, but it wasn’t unbearable.

“It’s not something to brag about, is it? You all know how things are. If you show weakness, it only attracts bothersome pests who think you’re easy prey.”

“At the very least, we should inform Baek Sahyung—”

“No. I especially don’t want him to know. Please, I’m begging you. I’m fine the way things are.”

The disciples couldn’t hide their sorrow. Seong Muyeon gave them a bitter smile. He had seen that look all his life, no matter where he went.

And after people gave him that look once, they’d lose interest altogether. After all, he was someone who might not live long. Investing care in him was like chasing a mirage.

“There’s a mountain of work to do—how can you all be wasting time here? Get back and finish what you were working on.”

It seemed he’d been moved to a bedroom within the Finance Department. When he stepped outside, he recognized the familiar hallway. The disciples trailed after him one by one.

Seong Muyeon returned to his seat as if nothing had happened.

“Um, young master Seong…”

Just as Wang Hojun was about to say something, the door burst open and Baek Ryeoil strode in.

“Seong Muyeon! We’re done for the day—huh?”

Baek Ryeoil wrinkled his nose.

“That’s odd. I smell blood.”

With a hunter’s keen eyes, he began silently scanning the room.

The disciples in his line of sight flinched and avoided his gaze.

“What is it? Was there a fight or something? Who’s bleeding?”

“…”

“Why is no one answering?”

Seong Muyeon let out a quiet sigh and began tidying his workspace. He figured he’d get Baek Ryeoil out of the room first and come up with a suitable excuse afterward.