TSBIRBV Ch 164

Chapter 164 An Offer That Cannot Be Refused (10)

At the hair’s breadth between them, Yegyeol’s lashes trembled faintly.

“Was this not why you came to my bed?”

His eyes, bloodshot—whether from fatigue or the pipe—reminded Yegyeol of the assassin he had crushed in his hands.

“I…”

He paused. It was not fear of Haryang that stilled him.

“In truth, what you said about easing my tension—that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

At the sudden question, Haryang’s gaze turned curious.

“You were the one who was tense, Senior Brother.”

Yegyeol still remembered the night Haryang had wrapped his hands around his throat. No nightmare comes without cause.

This was the first time since then that Haryang had turned to the pipe. Surely, there was a connection. Likely to ensure his own safety.

“When the assassins struck earlier, you worried I might be harmed. That’s why you lit the sleeping incense.”

“Is that so?”

His reaction was far too calm for one whose heart had been pierced.

“To think it would be uncovered so absurdly.”

The man muttered as he released Yegyeol’s hand. His face grew expressionless, not angry, but emptied of mood. He seemed poised to withdraw, but Yegyeol seized his hand and pressed it firmly against his chest.

“I’m alive. Aren’t I?”

He grinned broadly. Haryang flinched as though burned, drew his hand away, rubbed his face as if to wipe it clean, and muttered:

“…I truly cannot withstand you.”

It was the note of surrender.

Lowering his eyes, as if wrestling with himself, Haryang slowly lowered himself over Yegyeol. Like a beast descending upon its prey.

Caught between his arms, Yegyeol gaped soundlessly.

Suddenly? This bold?

He had not expected him to reveal himself as the Black Ghost here, but neither had he imagined this.

“Only for a moment… just for a little while.”

Haryang murmured as he bent his head to Yegyeol’s chest. Breath forgotten, Yegyeol lay still, watching.

The man who had bound his last remaining disciple so that he might never slip away pressed his ear to Yegyeol’s heart.

Was it truly only for this—to hear my heartbeat?

The purpose was absurdly simple. It was good for but an instant.

And yet…

Yegyeol blinked several times. The man he had always looked up to was now beneath him. Even outside the chamber, he could have listened if he wished—but here he curled himself small, burrowing into Yegyeol’s chest, so pitiful, so tender, that Yegyeol’s heart clenched.

How did someone like me manage to snare him so?

He wrapped his arms around Haryang’s head. His embrace was fierce, without hesitation, and Haryang’s breath eased at once.

With all his other disciples dead, was it any wonder he clung so to life? And he had been coerced into learning demonic arts with Kunlun hostages as leverage…

If ever I pass through Ten Thousand Great Mountains, I’ll uproot their pillars.

The anger that had burned fresh when Jinyoung first told him returned vividly now. He wanted to rob of rest every soul who had stolen Haryang’s.

…Lucky this is the Central Plains.

Had his Senior Brother been born in modern times, he would have lived upright in its way, and an esper with cruel thoughts like Yegyeol would never have touched him.

Holding Haryang close, Yegyeol silently counted the darkness above. Separated from the Black Ghost, with even Haryang threatening to leave, he had pushed himself into his bed, only to find tonight would go no further.

At least I have taken this bed. That is victory enough.

Curbing his greed, he closed his eyes.

The room was hushed; only Haryang’s breath could be heard. The rhythm of it evened into a slow tide, his body rising and falling like waves, lulling Yegyeol in turn. He must have dozed off.

Near dawn, Yegyeol awoke. Though he remembered falling asleep holding him, when he opened his eyes, it was he who lay in Haryang’s arms.

He tried gently to rise, but Haryang’s hold was firm; without force, he could not escape. Even with his stirring, there was no sign of wakefulness. Yegyeol waved a hand before his face and realized: his Senior Brother was in deep sleep.

He sleeps so well.

His features, so cold in waking, were softened by slumber’s innocence.

Pressed close to his chest, Yegyeol found himself counting his lashes like one intent on memorizing them. One, two, three… eight. But each time, he lost count—distracted by parted lips, by a stray lock of hair, by the warmth of skin against skin, by the steady thrum of his heart.

He remembered Haryang bending his ear to his chest last night. Now, he understood why.

Peaceful.

He wanted to do nothing but cling to him like a sloth all day. And even if Haryang said no, he would surely carry him about in surrender.

Long he gazed on the sleeping face, until at last he reached out. His chest pounded, half-fearing his wrist would be seized, but he did not stop. His hand touched the spot that had distracted him so: the skin at his Senior Brother’s ear.

Pale skin peeked through dark hair. For the first time, Yegyeol traced it.

Soft.

Haryang’s body was hard with muscle, yet his earlobe was tender. The contrast made Yegyeol chuckle to himself.

Even a martial man cannot temper his ears…

Regardless of reason, cute was cute.

“Mm…”

A murmur slipped from Haryang’s lips. Yegyeol, grinning to himself, froze in alarm, snatched back his hand, and squeezed his eyes shut. Yet Haryang did not stir; his breathing smoothed again.

Peeking through one eye, Yegyeol confirmed he still slept and sighed with relief.

Phew… nearly woke him.

He slipped a pillow where his head had rested, slid free from under his arm. But when the man, who looked so orderly in sleep, turned slightly, Yegyeol tensed, fearing he had roused him. Yet still he slept.

Free at last, Yegyeol glanced about the boxes still stacked in the room. He had meant to give them yesterday, but now that he was awake early, he might as well display them.

Besides…

If I lie there sober, who’s to say I won’t pounce on him again?

Self-awareness was his strength. He had stolen only one kiss, but every thief grows bolder. His heart was blacker than coal.

He opened the first box. Lifting its contents, he surveyed the room’s layout and began his work.

Something rustled. Haryang stirred slowly. It had been long since he woke with someone nearby, and his thoughts lagged; last night’s rare deep slumber had dulled his judgment.

As he sat up, he realized the one in his arms was no longer Yegyeol. He brushed aside a pillow, something clinked and fell.

This…

The short blade he had given his disciple lay on the floor. Trust Yegyeol to toss aside what had been meant to protect him.

Lifting his eyes, he was struck dumb. Draped across the room was a riot of silks.

The sight left him with a strange feeling.

“Ah. Senior Brother, you’re awake?”

Sensing him, Yegyeol peeked through the hanging cloths.

“I tried to be quiet, but was I too noisy?”

He was still tiptoeing, stepping gingerly. Haryang sighed.

“With one so small as you, how much noise could there be? It was simply time to wake. But tell me, what is all this?”

“Ah.”

Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, Yegyeol explained:

“This time I brought some samples—well, swatches—from Seonye Workshop. I liked them, so I bought a few. With the weather warming, I thought I might make you new clothes.”

“New clothes?”

The chamber was ablaze with bright, soft colors. Haryang wondered how to stop him.

“First, this one…!”

Drawing a length of silk, Yegyeol stepped forward—only to have it snag on what he had strung from the ceiling.

“Careful!”

The many cloths he had tied had come loose, collapsing all at once.

Damn!

He had tied them lightly to avoid creases, and now they fell in a wave.

Yegyeol faltered, then saw Haryang coming toward him to catch him.

What to do?

Of course, desire overcame pride. Yegyeol toppled forward, into Haryang. Silks cascaded over them both.

Propping himself clumsily, Yegyeol rose half upright.

“Are you… all right?”

Framed in crimson silk like a bridal veil, gazing down at him, Haryang opened his mouth but no words came.

He should say he was fine, but nothing emerged.

Because he remembered that night—the bridal chamber where he had ravaged a bride that was no one’s.

Haryang gripped Yegyeol’s back, pulling him down. Perhaps he would regret this moment for years. Perhaps not. In truth, he thought nothing at all.

Lifting his head, he pressed his lips to Yegyeol’s.