TSBIRBV Ch 123

Chapter 123 More Than a Drama (11)

 

When he opened his eyes again, Yegyeol found himself lying in a chamber of the Black Market that he had visited more than once before.

The cleaning up…

Though he knew the Black Ghost must have seen to it, embarrassment flooded him to the crown of his head. Right on cue, the door swung open and the Black Ghost entered, carrying a tray that steamed with heat.

Only then did Yegyeol realize how hungry he was. As the man approached, he noticed a bamboo slip tucked beneath the tray.

Setting the food before him, the Black Ghost jerked his chin.

“Eat while you listen.”

It was porridge—egg and rice, perhaps.

Yegyeol knew the choice was meant for Haryang’s battered stomach, but for once he, too, felt his appetite stir.

Probably because he worries I hardly ever eat properly.

Accepting it as karmic due, he decided at least to eat heartily for lunch.

“Thank you.”

The Black Ghost stood watching until Yegyeol took his first spoonful, then unrolled the bamboo slip and began.

“That man, Je Haryang—the one who led the Cheonghae Trading Group before you. Thanks to that, tracing him was easy.”

Even while lifting his spoon, Yegyeol clicked his tongue inwardly.

Senior Brother even uses this chance to reinforce his own identity.

“To cut to the chase: Hwangbo Yulhui is indeed the trueborn daughter of the Hwangbo clan’s head and his husband, Ak Juchen.”

“What?”

Feigning surprise, Yegyeol froze mid-bite, eyes wide on the Black Ghost. At the urging nod to continue eating, he hastily resumed.

Only once he had resumed swallowing did the man’s slow explanation continue.

“Hwangbo Yakrin retired into seclusion in Shandong three years before his daughter’s birth, consolidating his authority after inheriting as clan head. Meanwhile, the former master of the Cheonghae Trading Group, Je Haryang, did not once set foot in Shandong for more than twenty years.”

The Black Ghost added lazily:

“My inquiries showed that at the time, Je Haryang was too busy expanding the Cheonghae Trading Group.”

“Then… why does Hwangbo Yulhui resemble Senior Brother so much?”

Yegyeol asked in confusion.

“It was no small task to track down these records for comparison, let me tell you. If you desire me to dig further into the past, that will require another price.”

His gaze swept boldly up and down Yegyeol’s body. Face burning with shame, Yegyeol snapped softly:

“That will not be necessary.”

He unfolded the bamboo slip handed to him and traced the characters with his fingertips.

“But… if I should feel relieved, is that not shamefully selfish of me?”

His voice shrank as though overwhelmed with shame—but truly, his thoughts were elsewhere.

“I was born in Shandong,” Senior Brother had once said.

At the time, Yegyeol thought it merely coincidence that it gave him common ground with Chaebong.

But what if they had known each other before?

Yegyeol recalled Haryang’s words:

“You may have thought me a young master of a noble household, but in truth, my birth was far from honorable. Until I was a little older, I believed the clan head was my father. Then my younger sister was born—”

A great clan of Shandong.

A house so relentless and resourceful that they kept watch even after Senior Brother had entered Kunlun.

Hwangbo Yakrin, the Chaebong who seemed to share a birthplace with him, and Hwangbo Yulhui, who resembled Senior Brother too closely to be mere coincidence…

Could it be…

“And one more thing.”

The Black Ghost’s sudden words shattered the puzzle forming in Yegyeol’s mind.

“I dug a little deeper in the course of investigation and found something amusing I thought to share.”

Haryang smiled vaguely.

“What is it?”

Even while fitting pieces together in his mind, Yegyeol lifted his head with a mask of ignorance.

The man lowered his voice.

“The clan head of Hwangbo—in other words, the current Grand Elder of the Hwangbo clan.”

He paused, savoring how Yegyeol leaned closer, intent. Then he whispered:

“When meeting friends, he would boast of a son he never had.”

Yegyeol’s chest dropped with a thud.

He had not expected such blunt words.

“A child of outstanding martial bone and gentle nature, considerate to those around him—or so I heard. I cannot recall the exact phrasing. In any case, he boasted far and wide.”

The Black Ghost’s mouth twisted.

“And what of it?”

Yegyeol did not bother to hide the tremor in his voice. Too much composure would be suspicious here.

“Is it not curious? His wife bore him only one daughter.”

Delivered as idle amusement, the Black Ghost’s smile was all the more grotesque for needing no embellishment.

From the start, he had intended to say this much.

Since he had already assured Yegyeol that Hwangbo Yulhui bore no tie to Je Haryang, discovering the truth was inevitable.

And so he himself laid bare the secret of birth.

“…Ah.”

Yegyeol’s gaze wandered the empty air.

Not from the shock of truth, but from disbelief that Senior Brother had revealed it so completely.

An illegitimate child born beneath the Hwangbo roof, carrying none of its blood.

Though protected by the clan head, he had remained an outsider, until—driven by some circumstance—he was sent off to Kunlun.

Then Hwangbo Yulhui resembles not him… but her grandmother.

In other words, she bore the face of Je Haryang’s mother.

The pieces fit snugly into place, yet Yegyeol could no longer raise his spoon. His rare appetite, once stirred by the satisfaction of release, had been extinguished.

“Lord Mun?”

He stiffly turned at the call. The Black Ghost’s gaze followed the spoon in his hand.

If I say I cannot eat more, he will worry…

So Yegyeol forced the spoon to move. The porridge, boiled long, slid soft even across his raw mouth. Yet in his state, taste held no meaning.

He moved mechanically until the bowl lay empty. Only then did he set down the spoon and declare:

“I think I must return to Cheonghae.”

The Black Ghost studied his pale face before nodding.

“Shall I help prepare? You said you came by mount, but I brought you here from the tavern.”

“No, I must stop by the manor first. Ah, heavens…”

His carefully crafted expression now worn thin by fatigue painted an oddly convincing picture.

“I came to Sichuan and went straight to drink, without even sending word to the manor. What will I do if Senior Brother learns…”

“Senior Brother, Senior Brother,”

the Black Ghost muttered, as if aggrieved.

“Every other word from your mouth is of that man.”

So skilled at needling him that Yegyeol almost thought it genuine jealousy.

Could it be real jealousy?

Half doubtful, he schooled his face.

“…We,”

he said, fixing the Black Ghost with a sharp, blue-edged gaze,

“are bound in flesh, not in heart.”

Soft as a whisper, yet unwavering.

Every time Senior Brother regains balance, I must topple it.

If left so, Je Haryang would remain the kind Senior Brother in one guise, and in the other, the Black Ghost who took him harshly—a safe arrangement.

Yegyeol had once agreed to this. So long as guidance never failed, so long as Je Haryang never abandoned him, it was an acceptable bargain.

But after Hangzhou, he knew: mere stasis would not suffice.

He wanted Je Haryang—all of him, from a single strand of hair to the tips of his toes.

He had shaken Senior Brother before; now it was time to shake the Black Ghost.

He had to prove that stability was impossible.

“…I thank you for telling me about Senior Brother. But I would prefer if you never spoke of him again.”

The words, sharp from unguarded emotion, fell like a blade even as Yegyeol lowered his gaze with practiced politeness.

The Black Ghost stared, incredulous.

“…Impressive.”

His lips curved as he reached out.

Even as the hand touched his cheek, Yegyeol did not move. When it paused, as though fearing rejection, he remained still, until the palm grew bolder, cradling his face.

“Cold of you.”

The man bared his teeth in a grin.

“That a little presumption should earn me such merciless bite.”

It was the kind of presence that made one want to flinch and beg forgiveness. But Yegyeol stood firm.

Knowing it was empty threat, how could he cower?

“So, having gotten all you wanted, you mean to run back into that man’s arms.”

Yegyeol’s lips tightened.

“If you intend to threaten me—”

“Oh, no misunderstanding. How could a wretch like me ever hope to bind Lord Mun?”

Lifting his hands as though in surrender, the Black Ghost said simply:

“Go, then.”

One step back, his face half-devoured by shadow. The scar across it caught the dim light, lending the already grim visage a chill that pierced the heart.

“But in the end, you will return—for what that man cannot give you.”

He was right.

Yegyeol smiled.

“And yet, Black Ghost, you too cannot give me what Senior Brother does.”

The man’s smiling face froze cold.

Yegyeol bowed his head with measured courtesy.

“Next time, let us meet in a setting more proper.”