HDCLSSRS Ch 95

Chapter 95 The End of Denial (4)

Seong Muyeon managed to tear something off—but regrettably, it was not Baek Ryeoil’s hair, but rather a piece of his clothing. Amid the rough thrusting that began with their kiss, Seong Muyeon completely broke down, clutching onto his clothes and hanging on desperately.

“I found it! This is the book, right?”

“Let’s go, let’s go. I heard rumors this place was haunted, and I think I smell something weird too.”

“But doesn’t this place look cleaner than before?”

The intruders left the library soon after. With them gone, nothing stood in the way of unrestrained intimacy breaking out within the archive.

Later, Seong Muyeon would learn that Baek Ryeoil had known all along where the book they sought was located—and since it was in the exact opposite direction, those people would never have set foot here. That was precisely why he had dared to do what he did.

“…I didn’t expect the great Master of the Merciless Sword¹ to be this cunning.”

“Now you know, so drop it.”

“……”

Seong Muyeon didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. That day, in this venerable hall where the wisdom of their forebears was enshrined, they did it three times. Baek Ryeoil pressed him against walls and floors, driving into him as though he might die tomorrow. Overwhelmed by Ryeoil’s prodigious stamina, Muyeon was left limp, utterly exhausted.

Baek Ryeoil stripped off his outer robe, hastily wiped away the slick fluids, and helped the spent Muyeon tidy his clothes.

In the end, having gained nothing but completely drained of strength by midday, Seong Muyeon refused to go to the dining hall—but Baek Ryeoil dragged him there anyway and forced him to eat. He nodded off between mouthfuls, half-asleep, and as soon as they returned to Chujeongjae, he collapsed onto the bed.

Considering how much they had worn themselves out, his body should have stabilized a little, but that lingering sense of unease wouldn’t leave him. It was strange.

Nothing’s going to happen… right?

But ignoring that feeling turned out to be a mistake.

The incident occurred not long after.

That morning, the residence was abuzz with activity.

Seong Muyeon, Kang Ung, Wang Hojun, and several disciples from the Ministry of Finance bustled around the kitchen.

“What’s all this?”

“Don’t worry about it, sir. We’re handling this, so please don’t interfere.”

While busy washing vegetables, Seong Muyeon tilted his head and spoke cryptically.

“Master! What have you prepared?”

Covered in flour, Kang Ung piped up with a question.

“Prepared? Prepared what?”

At Ryeoil’s clueless response, everyone in the kitchen froze and stared at him. A chill ran down his spine, and he instinctively stepped back.

“W-What! Why are you looking at me like that? I’ll gouge your eyes out!”

Though Ryeoil’s fierce warning made Wang Hojun and the others lower their eyes, Seong Muyeon did not. He wasn’t the type to be cowed by empty threats.

“Today’s Master Ma Jincheon’s birthday, isn’t it!”

“Oh.”

Ryeoil scratched his cheek. Had the date already come?

“No way! You didn’t prepare anything? Did you forget your teacher’s birthday?”

“We don’t do stuff like that.”

Ryeoil snapped irritably. He idly kicked a basket lying on the floor with the tip of his foot.

“Master doesn’t like noisy celebrations or making a big deal out of things anyway.”

His once-confident voice gradually shrank until it was barely a mosquito’s hum. Seong Muyeon gave him a look of pure exasperation.

He didn’t even have to ask—of course Ryeoil had never celebrated his master’s birthday before.

If neglecting one’s parents was unfilial, what did that make this?

Muyeon dragged him over and sat him beside Kang Ung.

“Then let’s have the dojo make the noodles.”

“But I—!”

“Even if you never did before, this year we’ve got a new member, so let’s just do it. And really, who doesn’t like having their birthday celebrated? I’m sure Master will be happy.”

“……”

“We’re making longevity noodles². You know they can’t be cut, right? Please make one long strand.”

After giving that instruction, Muyeon returned to his place to finish washing vegetables.

Ryeoil stared blankly at the dough in front of him. Kang Ung, seated beside him, was making dumpling wrappers, lips jutting out like a little duck as he rolled the dough with intense concentration.

“Hm.”

At last, Ryeoil gave in. He washed his hands and began kneading the dough. Wang Hojun chuckled as he watched.

“Ha ha, I’ve lived long enough to see this—Baek Ryeoil cooking! Ha ha!”

“Shut it if you value your life.”

“Yes, sir.”

To make noodles, one had to roll the dough flat.

“By the way, Wang, why are you even here? You’re not Master’s disciple.”

“Things just… ended up this way.”

Wang Hojun smiled bitterly at the question. He knew as well as anyone that he didn’t really belong here. It had all started when Seong Muyeon, gathering ingredients from the kitchen storage, happened to catch him and roped him in.

And so, together, they prepared Ma Jincheon’s birthday feast.

Once the food was nearly ready, Muyeon turned to Kang Ung.

“Master Kang, could you go bring Master Ma here?”

“Yes! I’ll be right back!”

Ryeoil’s eyes followed Muyeon’s retreating back with subtle yearning. He wanted to visit Yakseon as soon as possible, but circumstances did not allow it. The disciplinary confinement that had been imposed on him had yet to be lifted, preventing him from leaving Mount Hua. It was essentially a probationary period. If he caused any more trouble now, the punishment would be far harsher than before.

Still, it wouldn’t be long before he regained his freedom. Until then, all he had to do was protect Muyeon from Seomun Yuha’s clutches.

But life rarely went as planned.

“Hello?”

Accompanied by Ma Jincheon, Seomun Yuha cheerfully greeted them. Ryeoil instinctively stepped in front of Muyeon.

Ryeoil bared his teeth.

“Master, why did you bring him?”

“Ha ha. Young Master Seomun came early this morning to offer his congratulations. I couldn’t very well turn him away.”

“Of course I had to come congratulate you! I wasn’t going to intrude on what I thought was a family affair, but Master Ma insisted so sincerely that I couldn’t refuse. May I come in?”

“Of course, of course. Let’s go in.”

Before anyone could chase him out, Seomun Yuha slipped nimbly inside, laying on the flattery thick. Ma Jincheon followed, leaving Ryeoil, Muyeon, and Kang Ung standing awkwardly in the courtyard. Kang Ung, looking like a drenched puppy, murmured:

“I’m sorry… I couldn’t stop him.”

Muyeon waved it off.

“How could you have? Don’t worry about it. Since it’s come to this, let’s just eat.”

When they entered, Ma Jincheon and the others were already seated around a lavishly prepared table.

“Well, well. You really do live long enough to see everything. I never thought I’d be getting a birthday feast like this.”

Ma Jincheon seemed genuinely pleased.

“Happy birthday.”

Muyeon smiled as he spoke. Just as Ryeoil was about to take the seat beside him, Seomun Yuha darted forward and stole it, sticking out his tongue at Ryeoil in mockery.

“Hey!”

Unable to hold back any longer, Ryeoil finally exploded. But today was not the day for him to lose his temper.

“Young Master Seomun is a guest who came to celebrate my birthday. Do not treat him rudely.”

Ma Jincheon’s cold rebuke silenced Ryeoil instantly. He ended up cramming himself into an empty seat, sulking, while Yuha beamed triumphantly.

The harsh words delivered, Ma Jincheon’s face softened into a broad smile.

“Thank you, all of you. I never expected you’d go to such trouble for me.”

“Master, this is something I made myself.”

Blushing with shyness, Kang Ung offered a sword ornament decorated in bright colors.

“Thank you.”

Ma Jincheon immediately tied it to his sword as decoration. Kang Ung grinned bashfully.

“We prepared the food. Please eat as much as you like.”

After offering their congratulations, the others turned their eyes toward Ryeoil. Ma Jincheon shot him a pointed glance.

“And you? Have you nothing?”

“Well… I…”

Ryeoil hesitated for a long moment before sliding a steaming bowl of longevity noodles toward him.

“I made this.”

“You… made it?”

“Live long.”

Ryeoil muttered curtly, averting his eyes. Ma Jincheon looked mildly surprised, as though he’d never expected Ryeoil to prepare anything. When he picked up his chopsticks, Ryeoil’s curt voice cut in:

“Don’t break them. Eat them all in one go.”

“I know that!”

With trembling hands, Ma Jincheon lifted the noodles. They were, to put it mildly, atrocious. The noodles were undercooked and tasted of raw flour; the broth was unbearably salty.

But Ma Jincheon, as Ryeoil instructed, did not break the noodles and slurped them down in one bite. That was the tradition of longevity noodles—eating them unbroken symbolized a wish for long life.

“…Thank you.”

“…Master, are you crying?”

“Nonsense! It’s because the noodles are so awful. You call this cooking? I’m chewing eggshells here.”

“Tch.”

Watching the two stubborn master and disciple, Muyeon burst into laughter.

“All right, let’s eat!”

Early that morning, they gathered together, sharing food in high spirits. Ryeoil tasted the leftover broth from Ma Jincheon’s noodles, grimaced, and shoved it aside in disgust. He drank the meaty broth instead, silently watching Muyeon ladle his portion into Kang Ung’s bowl and trade well-wishes with Ma Jincheon.

Since Muyeon’s arrival, Ryeoil’s life had changed a little.

Before, there had been no communal meals like this. No celebrating anyone’s birthday.

The sound of laughter and chatter was pleasant.

This feeling… wasn’t bad at all.

Unfortunately, rare moments of joy in Ryeoil’s life never lasted long.

“By the way, Masters, may I ask something?”

Seomun Yuha’s voice drew everyone’s attention. Ma Jincheon smiled kindly.

“What is it you’re so curious about?”

“What do you all think of Hwajeong Valley?”

A heavy silence fell.

Ryeoil instinctively glanced at Muyeon. Their eyes met, both faces darkening with foreboding.

What’s he plotting now?

Ma Jincheon was startled—Yuha knew about Hwajeong Valley?—but soon regained his composure and smiled.

“Well, I can’t think of anything except that they’re people just like us.”

Ma Jincheon seemed to think Yuha was worried about the valley’s reputation in the Central Plains. Wang Hojun stroked his chin and added:

“Hwajeong Valley? Didn’t they get wiped out ages ago? Why bring them up now?”

Kang Ung, unfamiliar with the topic, quietly listened to the adults talk.

“I was just curious about what others think. History and events aside, isn’t it a shame when you consider their abilities?”

“That’s true. There’s no equal to them when it comes to increasing one’s inner energy through bedchamber arts…”

“Bedchamber arts? What’s that?”

Kang Ung’s eyes went wide, prompting Wang Hojun to hastily cover his ears.

“Kids don’t need to know!”

“Huh? I can’t hear you, uncle. What’d you say?”

Flustered, Wang Hojun coughed violently.

“Anyway, if the legends about Hwajeong Valley are true, I think the people of the Central Plains were too harsh. If they’d lived together in harmony, we could have benefited a lot from them.”

“Right? I thought so too! With abilities like that, of course we should make use of them.”

Seomun Yuha enthusiastically agreed, then locked eyes with Muyeon, silent but full of reproach.

“Step outside with me.”

Unable to stand it anymore, Muyeon grabbed Yuha by the scruff of the neck and dragged him out.

Muyeon shoved Seomun Yuha into his room and slammed the door.

“What kind of stunt are you pulling, saying that in front of everyone?! Why are you always like this?”

“Huh? What did I even do? I just asked. Aren’t you being overly sensitive?”

Muyeon’s blood boiled. The innocent look Yuha gave him was infuriating. But soon enough, Yuha dropped the act.

“Speaking of which… how long do you plan to hold out? I heard from Baek Ryeoil you were going to seek Yakseon’s help. How likely is that to work? Yakseon can’t cure every illness.”

He wasn’t wrong.

“But that doesn’t mean you’re the only solution, does it? Young Master Seomun, why are you acting like this? Do you like me or something?”

At that, Yuha leaned in with a sly smile.

“Why not find out? I’m curious too… what it’s like to kiss a man.”

He tilted closer, sending shivers down Muyeon’s spine. Muyeon shoved him away in panic.

“Ugh! No! I said no!”

“Seong Muyeon!”

Just then, Baek Ryeoil appeared, and Muyeon darted behind him for cover, still trembling from the lingering goosebumps.

“Master, look at him! He’s still harassing me. Teach him a lesson!”

“What?!”

Muyeon glared daggers at Yuha.

“Young Master Seomun, you’re done for. Maybe this’ll knock some sense into you. Master Baek, do it.”

Ryeoil rolled up his sleeves. His clenched fists cracked ominously.

“Good. I was planning to fix his attitude anyway. Don’t tell me you’re going to beg me to stop after this.”

“Not a chance!”

This time, Muyeon truly meant it. He wanted Ryeoil to beat some sense into that reckless brat—not out of malice, but concern. Yuha, raised like a greenhouse flower, had no idea how harsh the world could be.

If someone didn’t teach him now, he’d pay dearly later. Better to give him a warning shot first.

And besides, Muyeon had justification. Yuha had already broken his promise with the sect leader by using his powers on Muyeon. This was self-defense.

If his body had been sound, Muyeon would’ve done it himself.

“Wait, you’re actually going to hit me?”

“Don’t even think of running. You’re dead today.”

Yuha backed away like a rat cornered in a jar, soon pressed against the wall with nowhere to flee.

“Come on, is this fair? I’m innocent! I only wanted to help—”

“Sure, sure. Just know that your so-called pure intentions aren’t the only ones that matter.”

Yuha’s face fell into despair. The naive youth was finally realizing that life didn’t always go his way.

Muyeon, smirking wickedly behind Ryeoil’s back, flinched when the door burst open.

“What’s going on here!”

The commotion had drawn people to his room. Ma Jincheon’s eyes swept from Yuha cowering in the corner, to Ryeoil with his fists raised, to Muyeon hiding behind him. Veins bulged on the elder’s forehead.

“Ryeoil! How long has it been since your last punishment?!”

“Master, it’s not like that—”

Muyeon stepped forward to usher the onlookers out, but suddenly stumbled, losing his balance.

What the—?

He caught Ryeoil’s sleeve to steady himself, dazed by the unexpected wave of weakness.

“I said don’t stop me!”

Ryeoil, thinking Muyeon was restraining him, shook him off forcefully.

Muyeon doubled over, clutching his chest with a strangled gasp.

Ryeoil snorted.

“What, fainting again? That trick won’t work twice.”

“N-No, it’s not—”

Ryeoil brushed past him toward Yuha. Muyeon’s panic deepened.

What’s happening to me?

A chill gripped his chest. His head spun, vision swimming, thoughts slipping away.

“Master—wait…”

Kang Ung was the first to notice something truly wrong.

He too had once fallen for Muyeon’s feigned collapses, but this time, the pallor of his face was unmistakable.

“What is it?!”

Ryeoil whirled, snapping in irritation—just in time to see Muyeon vomit a mouthful of dark blood.

The room fell silent, as if doused in cold water. Then, as though on cue, everyone rushed toward him.

“Seong Muyeon!”

“Muyeon!”

Through the haze of fading consciousness, Muyeon thought:

Damn. I really might die this time.

He had sensed something was wrong with his body, but never expected it to strike so suddenly.

He pitched forward toward the floor—yet there was no impact. Ryeoil had darted forward, catching him mid-fall.

Ryeoil’s shocked face blurred in Muyeon’s vision.

See? Master Baek is reliable after all. He’ll handle it somehow…

Then he glimpsed Seomun Yuha’s youthful, handsome face rushing toward him.

I don’t like him, but… with him here too, I guess it’ll be fine.

That was Muyeon’s last thought before everything went black.

Merciless Sword¹ (무정검, Mujeonggeom)¹ Title meaning “sword without emotions,” a nickname highlighting the character’s cold swordsmanship.

longevity noodles² (장수면, Jangsu-myeon)² Traditional noodles eaten on birthdays in East Asia; their uncut length symbolizes long life.