OGHOU C14

Chapter 14

 

After the commotion settled, Cheongyeon dragged his aching body to lie down on the bed.

“Why on earth did you do that?”

“……”

“Who told you to earn your keep? If you wanted to help, you could’ve done chores. Why did you butt into that fight?”

Flustered, he babbled a reprimand, but Muho, summoned there, sat across from him, disinterested and clearly showing no sign of remorse.

“Are you even listening? Huh? Cheon Muho.”

“I heard you.”

“People don’t go around hitting others recklessly. What if something serious happened? Don’t ever do that again.”

“…Got it.”

His reluctant reply was filled with annoyance. Cheongyeon worried if he really absorbed what was said or if he’d just keep growing up thinking violence was normal.

No matter this was a martial arts world, Muho had already escaped from the cult. From now on, he wanted him to live a more ordinary life—not one solely dedicated to strength, but one of coexistence with others.

“When problems come up, solve them by talking first, not by punching. Understand? Promise me you won’t hit anyone again.”

“……”

“Promise me, will you?”

“I will.”

Though he finally got an answer, Cheongyeon remained uneasy. Considering the environment Muho had grown up in, worse might have happened.

What should he do? Compared to Muho, Jeha was a gentleman—though he often cried, he was mature and grown-up. Oh, now that he thought about it, he missed him. Hopefully, the little one was doing well.

Snapped back to focus, Cheongyeon gestured toward a sheet of paper on the table.

“And…”

“That’s what those people dropped earlier. Could you read it? Seems like an IOU.”

Cheongyeon had picked it up when the man who tried to arrest Jang dropped it during the fight against Muho. It seemed to list the source of borrowed money. Conveniently, Muho was near the table, so Cheongyeon asked him to read it.

Muho silently stared at the paper.

“What’s written on it?”

“……”

“Huh? Why no answer…?”

“I don’t know.”

He handed the paper back to Cheongyeon. His eyes reflected complicated feelings as they scanned the inked characters.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“It’s writing.”

“You can’t read?”

“……”

He didn’t know how to read?

This was harsh. How could he not have been taught to read and write by age fifteen? After all, literacy widens one’s horizons!

Cheongyeon felt sorry but carefully restrained his expression, fearing to upset him. Not knowing something was easily fixed by teaching.

“It’s okay! If you don’t know, you can learn! I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t need it.”

“Stop saying you don’t need it. You say you don’t need everything.”

Cheongyeon groaned, rose, and fetched a brush.

Good manners, and literacy too—there were mountains of things to teach. Living as a proper human in this world was evidently no easy task.

“Here, hold it.”

Muho tried to reject it, but Cheongyeon forced the brush into his hand. Though his grip was sloppy at first, Cheongyeon corrected each finger, and it began to look decent.

Hmm, what to teach first? Numbers? The character for “sky” (천, 天)? No, start slow with simple strokes.

Standing behind, Cheongyeon wrapped his large, steady hand over Muho’s long, slender fingers.

They dipped the brush in ink and lightly slid it over the paper. The two-handed brush strokes were clumsy but somewhat pleasing.

“How is it? Don’t you think even just making strokes is fun?”

“……”

“If you start with the basics, you’ll learn quickly. There should be books around—I’ll look for one later.”

“Too much trouble.”

“Even if it’s trouble, you have to do it. Knowing how to read and write changes your life.”

Though Muho complained, he watched the strokes inked on the paper with keen interest, fascinated by the brush and ink he’d never used before.

Cheongyeon felt inexplicably proud.

He had become the first person to teach literacy to a villain in a novel.

He pondered again whether to retitle his story “I Became the Heavenly Demon’s Teacher.”

The lessons continued thereafter. Muho seemed naturally quick-witted, picking up letters fast, which pleased Cheongyeon greatly. Teaching was rewarding.

Though he constantly grumbled and insisted he didn’t need it, once seated, he attentively read and copied texts. Quite admirable.

The only problem was his brush posture, which changed strangely every time. Whenever Cheongyeon took his hand to correct it, Muho quickly adjusted.

One relaxed afternoon after breakfast, Cheongyeon lounged on a restaurant chair watching Muho practicing calligraphy, again slouching with letters scattered unevenly.

Such a smart boy—why did he keep messing up posture? Was he doing it on purpose?

“Cheon Sibchil.”

“What?”

“Where did that apple come from?”

Cheongyeon gestured to a fresh apple on the table, bitten once and looking as if freshly picked. There were definitely no apples in the inn’s kitchen.

“From the market.”

“You bought it? Don’t you have money?”

“They just gave it to me.”

“That stingy produce seller just gave it to you? How?”

“They said it because I was staring at him. Told me to take them all.”

Oh no. Was that from that ‘I’ll kill you’ glare?

Thinking of the terrified, trembling produce seller, Cheongyeon felt pity.

“What am I supposed to do with you…”

“Well, I only took one.”

“Alright… good of you. Next time I’ll give you money, so buy something with that…”

Maybe he’d have to teach him how to count money next. The road ahead was long.

Leaning drowsily on the table, Cheongyeon watched Muho’s calligraphy. His odd brush grip remained, making him wonder if Muho was trying to invent his own unique handwriting style.

“Your handwriting has a lot of character—almost like it’s dancing and about to fly away.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Of course. Full of spirit. Even passing imugi1) would ascend at the sight.”

“Fantastic.”

“If you put this on your forehead, even the monsters of Kunlun Mountain wouldn’t dare come near. Amazing.”

“Powerful.”

Cheongyeon shook his head, stood, and took Muho’s hand, guiding the brush for a proper stroke. Finally, properly shaped characters appeared.

But if he let go now, Muho would revert.

Still holding his hand, Cheongyeon wrote several more characters, hoping Muho would catch on.

“Oh right, I forgot to teach you how to write your name.”

To forget something so important—even now! Fortunately, he remembered in time.

“This is important—watch closely.”

As he started writing, a breeze fluttered a corner of the paper. Cheongyeon bit a slice from the apple Muho had been eating and set it on the paper to hold it down. He slowly wrote each character carefully.

“This is your name.”

At that moment, he noticed his long hair flowing down, touching Muho’s neck. Concerned it might tickle, he brushed it over his shoulder and wrote three more characters.

“This is my name.”

No real need to teach his own name, but as a teacher, he wanted Muho to respect him properly.

Cheongyeon looked proudly at the two names elegantly written on the paper. How could he be good at everything while he himself was not?

“How is it? Not difficult, right?”

Just as Cheongyeon glanced at Muho, their eyes met. The black eyes without depth stared intently.

‘Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?’

Embarrassed, Cheongyeon scratched his chin and asked,

“What’s wrong? I said look at the letters, why are you staring at me? Did you watch closely when I wrote this?”

“……”

“Maybe I went too fast? I’ll write it again, so watch carefully.”

As he prepared to write again, there was a sharp snap in his hand.

“Huh?”

When he removed his hand, the once-intact brush lay broken in two inside Muho’s hand. The center was crumbled into powder.

“Hey… what are you doing?!”

Why break the brush? Did he just lose interest in writing again?

Stunned, Cheongyeon watched as the broken brush rolled under the table. He sighed and crouched to retrieve it.

“Where did it go? I can’t see it.”

The brush fell farther than he expected. As he reached blindly, he nearly lost his balance.

Quickly, he grabbed Muho’s thigh to steady himself and avoid falling.

“Phew, that was close.”

“……”

Suddenly, Muho jumped up and shoved Cheongyeon hard, sending him sprawling to the floor.

“Why!? Why’d you push me?”

Grabbing his aching back, Cheongyeon glared at Muho.

For some reason, Muho looked furious. Dark, ominous energy radiated from him, and his angry eyes glowed with lethal intent.

The gaze reminded Cheongyeon of their first night’s meeting. The blackness in those eyes always seemed to glow red when he was angry.

Really scary… How could such a kid be like that…?

“Get out!”

Muho snapped, rising and stomping up the stairs.

Cheongyeon lay on the floor, dazed and speechless.

‘Why is he so angry? What’s the point? Did I do something to upset him?’

Teens that age were truly impossible to understand!

Footnotes

1. Imugi (이무기) — In Korean mythology, a proto-dragon or giant serpent that has yet to become a full dragon, often associated with auspicious power and ascension.