OGHOU C40

Chapter 40

The touch of the blanket against his fingertips was soft. Whether from a lit incense burner or some other source, a strange fragrance filled the air, soothing Cheongyeon’s mind. Reluctant to wake from sleep, he burrowed deeper into the warm covers.

“A dream…”

He hadn’t dreamed in so long that the memory was beginning to fade. Perhaps it was being shown again so he wouldn’t forget.

Huh…? Had he ever slept under such a comfortable blanket before?

Yet it wasn’t just the blanket that felt strange. Cheongyeon stretched out his arms and legs with eyes closed, but no matter how far he reached, he could not feel the edge of the bed.

“What? Why is it so vast?”

Suddenly alert, Cheongyeon lifted his eyelids. The first thing in his sight was a crimson curtain draped over the bed—a sight he had never seen, neither in the inn nor in a dream.

“Damn.”

He bolted upright, memories flooding back. What had happened before he lost consciousness?

“Where do you think you’re running?”

The low voice, mocking and cold. The savage glare. The crushing grip closing his throat.

Cheongyeon came close to screaming aloud, but clamped his mouth shut. His hands trembled so fiercely it was hard even to hold back.

Muho had come to the inn himself. And as the cult leader, a full year earlier than anticipated.

In the original story, he had sent others, not arriving himself. Since Cheongyeon was only an extra character, those scenes were vague—the Heavenly Demon himself would not undertake such a trivial task. He remembered it as sending men to capture and imprison Cheongyeon underground.

Ah, right. The underground prison.

This bed where he had just awoken seemed far too spacious and comfortable for a dungeon cell. The quilt was thick and stuffed with cotton, fit for royalty.

Perplexed, Cheongyeon quickly surveyed the room beyond the curtain. Fortunately—or unfortunately—he saw no one else. He was alone, sitting in this lavish chamber.

The room brimmed with antique furniture and furnishings, far more ostentatious than anything in the inn.

Having confirmed no one was there, Cheongyeon carefully pulled aside the curtain. He placed both feet on the floor, but dread kept him from rising or wandering about.

Where am I?

Had he already been relocated to Xinjiang during unconsciousness? If so, this must be the Heavenly Demon Cult’s stronghold. This opulent room could not be the prison. Would he only stay here briefly before being thrown into a more dreadful cell?

Thinking of the tortures he’d suffered in the original, Cheongyeon shuddered. The cold stone floor, rivers of spilled blood, mangled limbs—he certainly wanted no part of that fate.

Biting his lip hard, he resolved to seize any chance to escape.

With great effort, he lifted his heavy body and took a step. Across the room on the far wall was a grand door. To the right were several windows.

After a moment’s hesitation, he moved toward the nearest window and cracked it open just a fraction. Not a sound escaped—not even a squeak.

Haah…

He exhaled a weary breath. Contrary to expectations, no sunlight streamed through the opening. Outside was sealed as if with iron plates.

Checking the other windows, the same obstruction remained. Only the grand door ahead seemed unblocked.

If all the windows are sealed, would the door be open?

Although doubtful, Cheongyeon couldn’t just give up and sit silently. Silently as possible, he tiptoed toward the door.

To his surprise, it was unlocked. Heart pounding, he pushed slowly.

Just as the heavy door creaked open and fresh air brushed his face—

A hand darted swiftly through the gap and clutched the door.

Startled, Cheongyeon withdrew and stepped back, knees weak with fear.

“You cannot leave now.”

A young man’s voice came from outside. The hand closed the door firmly, the voice stern.

“My lord will be here soon. Please wait.”

“My lord” could only mean Muho. Hearing that name sank Cheongyeon’s heart.

He strove to calm his trembling voice as he called out to the man.

“Um, excuse me…”

“Make your request.”

The man answered promptly, as if he had been waiting.

Why is he so polite? I’m being dragged here a prisoner, and he is courteous…

Hope flickered for a moment within Cheongyeon, but he quickly crushed it. There was no room for hope now—unless there was some secret agenda at play.

“Wh-when will your lord arrive?”

“Soon.”

He said no more, and silence returned. Driven mad with anxiety, Cheongyeon began pacing, spinning in the center of the room.

What would happen when he came? Would his belly be pierced first? No, he probably wouldn’t survive long then. The original Cheongyeon suffered such agonies for nearly a month.

Lost in frantic pacing, he heard the man’s voice again—this time not for him.

“My lord.”

His heart pounding, Cheongyeon looked for a hiding place, but there was none—only the bed he had risen from.

Acting on impulse, he leapt back onto the bed, pulled the curtain, covered his head with the blanket, and pretended to still be asleep.

Soon enough, the door squeaked open.

Lying with his back to the door, Cheongyeon gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut tight.

Pretend to be asleep. Pretend. Pretend…

“Wake up.”

“Y-yes.”

Muho’s low voice reverberated, and reluctantly, Cheongyeon rose. Still facing away, he trembled in fear.

What now? Should he try to say something?

“Um, Muho, or rather, Lord, or… master. No, that’s not right.”

Unsure how to address him, Cheongyeon glanced backward, but the faintly visible expression beyond the curtain was unreadable.

And why is he so big?

Tall, even as a child, now an intimidating presence whose broad shoulders overwhelmed the room.

Summoning courage, Cheongyeon slowly turned and drew back the curtain an inch. As their eyes met, dread chilled his veins.

Though his handsome features were striking, the air about him was suffocating.

In his hand, he held a great sword—the sword that had lain dormant in the inn all this time, now named Ho-Yeondo. The blade gleamed proudly, as if it had finally found its true master.

Trying to ease the oppressive atmosphere, Cheongyeon began.

“How… have you been?”

“…”

“I, I worried about you a lot after you left that day. It was hard for me… but let’s not talk about it.”

No matter how much he suffered, it couldn’t compare to what Muho had endured.

Guilt overwhelmed him, heavier than ever, for failing to protect him.

“I swear on my life—it wasn’t me who betrayed you back then. Why would I do that? Whoever started those false rumors, it wasn’t true.”

Muttering like a man terrified of making the wrong move, Cheongyeon watched Muho’s impassive face.

“I stake everything on this truth. I’m no liar—eeek!”

Drawing back beneath the blankets, Cheongyeon nearly lost his mind as Muho’s towering figure approached. His black robes rippled like a death shroud, and he seemed the very incarnation of doom approaching.

Stopping near the bed, Muho looked down at Cheongyeon through the split curtain, his dark eyes glittering and lips parting.

“A lie.”

“…”

“You told lies so well.”

“Uh…?”

“They say the son of the apothecary is already dead from illness.”

Crazy. It was all over.

Nine years ago, the day they first met. The lies Cheongyeon had spun to salvage his situation—now the news that the apothecary’s son was already dead exposed him as a fraud.

His debt of gratitude was utterly revealed. He was as good as dead.

Cheongyeon resolved that if he could avoid the horrific tortures, he would prostrate himself and beg earnestly before Muho. Whether it would help, he had no idea.

“M-muho… I truly…”

His voice cracked with imminent tears. But Muho raised a hand, reaching through the curtain. His large palm seized Cheongyeon’s chin.

“Apologize for your lies. I was wronged… ugh!”

Startled as Muho’s thumb slid between his lips, Cheongyeon stopped speaking and gazed at him helplessly. His finger swept past, rubbing along sharp, protruding fangs.

“Sharp.”

Was he going to rip out all his teeth?

Trembling at the thought of the tortures to come, Cheongyeon closed his eyes tightly, hearing Muho’s threatening tone ring in his ears.

“Let’s see if you’re any good at something besides lying.”