TFN C58

Chapter 58

Fresh from a hot shower, Wonhyo reached for his fully charged phone. Among spam and advertisements was a missed call from his sister.

Drying his damp hair with a towel, he pressed her number. After several rings, her voice came through.

—Hello? Wonhyo?

“Yes, it’s me, noona.”

Calmly he answered, though her tone was thick with worry. A soft sigh floated back across the line.

—You went into a dungeon, didn’t you? Are you unhurt?

“Ah, yes. I’m fine… Wait—how did you know?”

He hadn’t told anyone he’d gone out, let alone that he’d entered a dungeon. Her knowing startled him.

—It was on the news. Your face showed up for a moment, that’s how.

“Ah…”

He recalled the storm of flashing cameras when they’d emerged. He had assumed, since Cheongmun said nothing, that his face wouldn’t appear. Clearly, he’d been mistaken.

—They reported an S-rank dungeon had closed, showed the survivors, and there you were, passing by. They blurred your face, but it was hardly unrecognizable. I nearly fainted from fright.

Until he’d entered, even Wonhyo himself hadn’t realized the dungeon was S-rank. Hastily, he excused himself.

“I’m sorry I left without telling you. I only meant to deliver talismans at the entrance, but I got pushed inside before I knew it. Everything was chaos.”

He even tattled, saying it was the general who’d shoved him in, before explaining the whole chain of events—including that the wraith had escaped.

“So tomorrow I’ll go to the Tower to lift the penalty.”

—Is that so? That’s good news. You need to resolve it so your abilities can return in full. Strange, isn’t it, how fate ties you to that man.

“Yes… strange.”

He bit back mention of his rescue work—how, when in animal form, physical contact ceased to increase the miasma. Nor did he tell her the penalty could be dispelled with a restorative item and a well-timed kiss.

—Ties with people are rarely easy. Are you sure you’ll be all right?

“…So far, I think so.”

He thought of Cheongmun and smiled ruefully. Whether it was the man’s inhuman air from their first meeting, or the unspoken boundary they both respected, it had never felt unbearable.

“And once tomorrow passes, the penalty will be gone. There’ll be no reason for us to touch again.”

—Wonhyo, you know you mustn’t fear people, don’t you?

At that, he let out a laugh.

“If anything, I’m the one tormenting others. I’m the one people should fear.”

Reviled, avoided, left alone lest a careless word bring disaster.

“But I’m glad I won’t harm those who try to help me.”

Once the wraith was gone, there would be no further reason for contact. A brief entanglement would unravel, each resuming his path.

—Is that so?

“It should be, noona.”

His voice was quiet, unraveling tangled thoughts like threads.

—Perhaps it’s because the bond has already brushed you, that it may not unravel so easily. If it had never touched, perhaps—but once entwined, ties are stubborn. Still, if you believe so, then so be it.

He exhaled faintly. They exchanged greetings for their mother, made plans for what he would do after resolving the penalty, and set a date for resuming prayers before he ended the call.

Leaning back against the mattress, hair now dry and drifting, he set his towel aside on the laundry basket and burrowed into the blankets. The electric pad radiated warmth, enough to mimic human presence.

“This will do.”

Closing his eyes, he surrendered to rest.

Entanglements that left him flustered, embarrassed, or sometimes suffocated in incomprehension—perhaps sleep was the simplest answer.

His mother had warned him: though he served gods, he was still their disciple, and must not forget how to face people. Yet he had turned away for so long. Perhaps that was why, whenever he thought of Cheongmun, fragments of tangled emotions scattered and sparkled like stars—brilliant, but too distant to claim.

Better to unclench his hand before desire left him scarred. He laid his arm over his eyes and let sleep claim him.

Lips closed hungrily on the inside of his thigh. A large hand pressed his knees apart. Wonhyo clapped a palm over his mouth to stifle the cry.

The deeper the lips climbed, the less control he had—strange sounds burst from him unbidden.

“Uh… ngh… hhhuh!”

A searing heat wrapped around his arousal.

“Ah!”

Sensation shot like lightning up his spine.

Hot breath touched the trembling tip; a slick tongue swept over taut flesh. His hips bucked wildly. Damp hair clung to his belly, scratching against his skin. Every nerve had gathered in his cock.

The swollen head was swallowed wetly, aching as it was crushed against the palate, scraped lightly by teeth—pain and pleasure tangled until it became sweet agony.

His legs opened wider, urging the man closer. He wrapped them around the body above him, pulling it down. The suction deepened, rough then slow, tongue lapping. Tears pricked his eyes.

Each time he thought he could not endure, the man’s hands soothed him. His head spun, clarity flashing and drowning in turn. Cries tore from his throat, raw as waves of pleasure broke over him.

At last the crest came—towering, crashing. His whole body curled, and he climaxed, seed spilling hot in a flood.

The damp spread. The world quaked—then his eyes flew open.

“Uh… wha…”

His voice, hoarse and swollen, rasped painfully. Forcing off sleep, he flung aside his blanket, hand reaching down.

As expected.

Silently, he stripped his pajama trousers and underwear, tossing them atop the mattress, then bundled them into a pile for the wash. Sticky, he headed to the bathroom.

He let the hot water run, shivering while it warmed. It was the same as so many mornings—he had lost count. Less than ten days since it began, yet the repetition numbed him more than shocked him.

Steam enveloped him as he stepped under. Cleansed and dressed fresh, he checked the clock. Not late, thank goodness.

Though his eyes were shadowed from restless dreams, his body felt sound. A little hungry, a little parched—tea first, he decided.

“Boil water, start the laundry?”

The blanket wouldn’t fit, but pajamas and underwear could. Yet two quilts already waited to be washed… a laundromat might be wiser. He had nothing to sleep under tonight otherwise.

As he weighed his chores, his phone buzzed insistently. He fumbled it up from where it had slid behind the mattress.

“Ugh!”

Cheongmun.

A groan escaped, guilt surging heavy as stone. He wished he could let it ring until it died, but this was a call he could not ignore. Clearing his throat, he answered.

“Hello.”

—Awake?

So calm, so dry—not even the faintest trace of indecency. Wonhyo buried his face in the mattress and mumbled apologies.

—Wonhyo?

“I’m listening.”

He blurted the reply quickly.

—The quietest entry window is at eleven. Shall I pick you up before then?

“What? You’d come all the way here?”

—Yes.

He sat up in alarm. Though he was already washed, with little to prepare, his gaze slid guiltily toward the corner where laundry—sour, wrinkled, and piled—seemed to wave mockingly at him.

“I—I’ll come to you instead!”

—To me?

“Yes! If you left from your home, you’d have to detour all the way here before going to the Tower. It’s unnecessary. I’ll meet you at the Tower entrance.”

The Special Authority was near Ichon; cross Dongjak Bridge and you’d be there. No need to drag him across the city.

“I’ll be ready. Let’s meet at the gate.”

—Are you certain?

Wonhyo caught the concern behind his question.

“I’m still within the safety threshold. Even if I encounter a ghost or two, I’ll manage.”

—I see. Very well. We’ll meet at ten-fifty at the Tower’s entrance.

He nodded fiercely, though unseen.

“Yes. See you then.”

He bowed deeply to no one, then collapsed sideways onto the bed.

“Damn.”

All his tension drained away, leaving him limp. After a long sigh, he clenched his fist.

Today. Today he would cast off every chain and begin anew.

Checking the time again, he realized he had just enough to prepare. Clothes alone would suffice, but he needed protection.

His earlier indulgence had limited which talismans he could use, but he would bring what he could.

He sprang to his feet and began to ready himself.