HDCLSSRS Ch 55

Chapter 55 An Unavoidable Matter (2)

 

Wirim drew a weapon from his waist. It was an iron whip with gleaming black scales.

“Still, it’s a shame to let you go just like that, isn’t it? I’ve never liked you, not since the old days. Acting all high and mighty just because you’re the cult leader’s son, when you don’t have a single thing to your name.”

He raised the whip and pointed it directly at Seong Muyeon.

“Let’s just end it here. That would be better.”

There was someone watching the whole scene unfold.

‘…It was true. He really came to devour me.’

Seomun Yuha anxiously bit his fingernails.

Unable to let go of his lingering attachment to the Demonic Sect, he had secretly snuck out of his house at night. But upon seeing that Seong Muyeon had arrived first, he could neither approach nor retreat and ended up hiding and overhearing their conversation.

Click, clack…

His body trembled so much that his teeth chattered on their own. He was terrified that they might hear the sound. If he got caught, he was as good as dead.

‘C-carefully… I need to sneak back…’

Just as Seomun Yuha, crouched in the underbrush, tried to rise to his feet—

“Stay still.”

A strong hand pressed down on his shoulder again.

“Master Ba-Baek Ryeoil?”

Startled, Seomun Yuha shouted reflexively and quickly slapped his own mouth shut.

“Don’t move. I’ve cast a sound barrier around us. As long as you don’t move too much, they won’t hear.”

With a sigh of relief, Seomun Yuha sat back down. Honestly, his legs were shaking too badly for him to escape safely anyway.

Baek Ryeoil watched Seong Muyeon and the black-clad men with a lowered, sunken gaze.

“You heard that, didn’t you? You were deceived.”

“…Yes.”

Seomun Yuha drooped his shoulders in defeat. It was now painfully clear just how naively he had viewed the world.

The thought that his entire family could have been harmed chilled him to the core.

“But, listen… isn’t that Seong Muyeon guy dangerous?”

“Should we save him?”

“He’s going to die at this rate. He looks even weaker than I am.”

Baek Ryeoil scoffed, then narrowed his eyes.

“Shut up and just watch, you brat. What do you know?”

“Yes, sir.”

Baek Ryeoil turned his head toward Seong Muyeon, who stood facing his opponents.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Seong Muyeon. It was just…

“Graaaah!”

Seong Muyeon swung his sword. Though momentarily caught off guard by the sudden attack, Wirim and his subordinates quickly composed themselves, as expected of men who had survived long in the Demonic Sect.

Seong Muyeon remained expressionless throughout.

One by one, he took them down.

‘That worry was unnecessary.’

Waiting idly was not in Baek Ryeoil’s nature. He had followed just in case something happened—but thanks to that, he had been able to protect Seomun Yuha.

He had almost been discovered. It was only thanks to casting the sound barrier just in time that disaster was averted.

Before long, Wirim’s subordinates were all defeated. Wirim alone remained, his body riddled with slash wounds.

“H-how does this bastard have such strength…?!”

Seong Muyeon moved with elegant footwork, slashing his sword. The arc it traced looked like a dancing butterfly.

“Urgh!”

The opponent couldn’t even mount a defense and was steadily pushed back.

“…Amazing.”

Seomun Yuha whispered without realizing it.

Baek Ryeoil silently agreed.

He really is an incredible man.

Baek Ryeoil could not tear his eyes away from Seong Muyeon’s sword dance. The trajectory of the blade, the shifting of his center of gravity—everything was flawless.

He had seen countless swordsmen in his life. No matter how talented they were said to be, they all fell short in Baek Ryeoil’s eyes.

But Seong Muyeon possessed something unusual—something that drew the gaze and held it.

“Guh!”

Wirim dropped his weapon and collapsed.

Seong Muyeon did not hesitate. In moments of vengeance, most people are consumed by emotion. But Seong Muyeon, like someone devoid of feeling, immediately drove his sword into Wirim’s chest.

“Grrrk…”

Soon, Wirim breathed his last.

Only then did Seong Muyeon relax the grip on his sword, gasping heavily as he straightened up.

When he looked up at the sky, the bright moonlight illuminated his face.

Seomun Yuha’s eyes sparkled as he gazed at him.

“So… cool…”

“Cool?”

A cold voice came from above, and Seomun Yuha flinched. Baek Ryeoil stared at Seong Muyeon with a sunken expression.

“You saw, didn’t you? What the Demonic Sect is really like. That man, Seong Muyeon, survived in that place.”

“…”

“And you? From Hwajeong Valley, right? Saying you can’t learn martial arts? Get real. That man struggled to survive in far worse conditions. He still struggles. Every time he uses his internal energy, he dies a little more.”

“…”

“And you? You don’t even need anyone’s help.”

Seomun Yuha clenched his fists tightly.

Stumble.

Seong Muyeon swayed, and Baek Ryeoil instinctively flinched. He barely restrained himself from rushing over and saw Seong Muyeon drop to his knees.

Lowering his head, Seong Muyeon inhaled deeply…

“Hrk…”

A tearful sob escaped his lips. He had tried so hard to suppress it, but in the end, like a breached dam in the rainy season, the grief poured out uncontrollably.

“What the…?”

Baek Ryeoil covered Seomun Yuha’s eyes and quickly led him away from the scene. Seomun Yuha, startled by the sudden blindness, flailed as he was dragged along.

“Why, why are you doing this? He looks hurt—shouldn’t we check—”

“Be quiet.”

Fortunately, Seomun Yuha, unlike Baek Ryeoil, didn’t have keen senses and hadn’t heard the sobbing. Baek Ryeoil brought him straight back to the Seomun household.

By the time they returned, Seong Muyeon was at his limit.

He walked unsteadily, visibly on the verge of collapse. Unable to endure the dizziness, he leaned on a pillar. A dark smear of blood stained the wood where his hand touched.

“Haa…”

With blurred vision, he carefully watched the ground, fumbling his way to where his room was.

‘I overdid it.’

Wirim had indeed not been an easy opponent. He was a man who had survived decades in the Demonic Sect. Even so, a weak chuckle escaped Seong Muyeon’s battered body.

He had avenged his first and last friend from the innocent days of his youth.

But his weary body was collapsing, contrary to the satisfaction in his heart.

Thud.

A firm hand caught his faltering shoulder.

Seong Muyeon furrowed his brow, trying to identify the face through his blurry vision. Before he could focus, he was lifted off the ground.

“Master…?”

Without a word, Baek Ryeoil carried him to his room. Surprisingly, the bathwater was already prepared.

When Baek Ryeoil began undressing him, Seong Muyeon recoiled in surprise.

“I can do it myself.”

“Stay still. You don’t even have the strength to resist.”

With a simple grip on his wrist, Baek Ryeoil effortlessly suppressed his resistance. His hands were quick and precise as he undid the belt and stripped off the clothes.

Already lacking the strength to lift a finger, Seong Muyeon simply let his body be handled. After everything they’d seen of each other, exposing his naked body was hardly a concern.

Baek Ryeoil carried him and gently lowered him into the hot bath, starting with his toes. A wave of languid relief washed over Seong Muyeon.

“While I’m at it, how about helping me wash up too?”

“What? You want to make me your servant now?”

“Yes.”

Baek Ryeoil was momentarily speechless at the audacious reply. After a brief pause, he began pouring water over Seong Muyeon’s body.

Seong Muyeon closed his eyes and leaned his head against the edge of the tub.

Splash, splash…

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of water. It was a peaceful silence. Seong Muyeon, staring blankly through the rising steam, spoke at last.

“…Thank you.”

His voice was barely audible.

Baek Ryeoil froze for a moment.

“Thanks to you, I was able to avenge the friend who was killed.”

Could he even call him a friend? Seong Muyeon didn’t know much about Damcheong. Not his hometown, not his favorite food—nothing. It had been a brief encounter, easily forgotten.

Yet Seong Muyeon had never been able to forget him.

“It was all thanks to you. Thank you, Master.”

If not for him, revenge would’ve been unthinkable.

Weak as he was, Seong Muyeon would’ve had to bow his head, pretend nothing had happened, live as though the past didn’t exist.

He had to swallow his anger every time it surged up.

But thanks to Baek Ryeoil, he didn’t have to think about the aftermath. He could do as he wished.

To be able to come back in such a broken state, knowing someone would be there to help—unless you’ve experienced it, you can’t understand how grateful that is.

So what if he got his ass handed to him?

He had finally laid his burden down.

As the blood washed away, small wounds became visible. Baek Ryeoil traced the whip marks across Seong Muyeon’s chest with his fingertips.

“These aren’t ordinary wounds.”

He muttered quietly. Seong Muyeon nodded. Wirim’s weapon was unlike ordinary ones. The iron whip imbued with demonic energy left lingering wounds that would not fade quickly. It was a reflection of the man’s twisted nature—meant to remind his enemies of him every time they saw the scar.

“They’ll fade eventually.”

“…”

Baek Ryeoil silently gazed down at Seong Muyeon.

His eyes traced from the jaw to his pale lips, up to the bridge of his nose, where traces of a nosebleed remained, and finally to his eyes.

Even in a wounded body, those eyes shone like the moon.

Both of them now clearly knew what needed to happen next.