TSBIRBV Ch 203

Chapter 203. Forgiveness (5)

Yegyeol could not easily answer those words.

If his Senior Brother wished, he could have even given him his bank account password. He could have eaten the dry crust of pizza for him, carried him on his back through days of pounding rain and thick, unyielding snow.

Even if Haryang had asked whether he had truly died that day, or how he had managed to return alive, perhaps he could have told him.

But this—this command to forgive himself—was too difficult.

“…That…”

Yegyeol whispered in a voice that barely crawled out.

“I… I think that would be hard.”

After provoking him to make a pillow-side plea, it felt shameful now to shake his head. Turning away, Yegyeol tried to hide, but before he could, Haryang seized his chin and pressed their lips together.

The kiss—sucking his lower lip, tangling tongues, stealing even his breath—held a note of desperation.

At first, Yegyeol was startled, but then he responded earnestly. If he could not give Haryang what he asked, then at least he wanted to do this well.

When Haryang finally pulled back, he pressed at Yegyeol’s furrowed brows with his thumb until the tight lines smoothed, then traced the corner of his mouth.

The touch was too careful to be mere teasing. Yegyeol’s lashes fluttered, and he lowered his gaze slightly.

It was uncomfortable to keep looking into those black, fathomless eyes—eyes that seemed capable of seeing through him entirely, eyes that might hold disappointment.

“Well. Even a Heavenly Demon must maintain face.”

He had expected questioning, but Haryang’s voice was lighter than anticipated.

“This Senior Brother will not take by force.”

The mark of his Guidance Organ throbbed faintly, still sensitive from the time when Yegyeol had devoured Haryang raw.

But… take by force?

“…What?”

“I know it won’t be enough as it is. I know.”

When Yegyeol finally lifted his head, he found a serene smile on Haryang’s lips.

“I’ll keep trying. So when your heart allows, grant my request.”

Yegyeol’s eyelids quivered.

So light a reaction?

“W-what do you… mmph.”

Before he could speak his confusion, Haryang pressed their mouths together again.

Unlike the last, this kiss was gentle. Without tongues, merely brushing lips again and again, leaving warmth and longing behind.

The tickling sensation almost made Yegyeol mistake the fluttering in his chest for excitement.

“You look beautiful.”

Watching his disciple falter, unable to speak, hesitant of when the next kiss might fall, Haryang laughed softly, satisfied.

A greedy man, full of secrets—and now a liar besides?

But Haryang felt no disappointment, no betrayal. From the beginning, he had not let Yegyeol near out of trust.

What mattered was that Yegyeol now had the courage to admit there was something he concealed.

If those secrets poisoned him, if they stabbed him with a blade to the heart—so what?

His life was the most trivial thing Haryang had to give.

“This time, you do it.”

Yegyeol squirmed, resting his hand against Haryang’s chest, then wrapped his arms around his neck and raised himself, pressing kisses.

Not as Haryang had done, but upon his eyelids, his nose bridge, his nose tip, the corner of his lips.

“Good…”

With his eyes closed, utterly defenseless, offering up every vital point, the man looked unbearably gentle and beautiful.

Yegyeol felt tears threatening to spill.

Why did he want to give everything like this?

What was he, to deserve it?

“I will also…”

Yegyeol muttered softly.

“I will also try.”

Without another word, Haryang drew him into his embrace.

Face buried in the broad chest, enveloped until he was nearly swallowed whole, Yegyeol closed his eyes.

Here was the peace he had never found anywhere else.

On the mountainside stood a collapsing hut. Before it lay a half-crushed bowl and scraps of firewood.

‘If there are signs of someone living, then perhaps he is still here.’

Hwang Geolgae swallowed nervously. He had come here at the urging of Namgung Un, who promised that beggars in Anhui would never again starve. Yet he worried whether this had been wise.

“M-Master? Are you there?”

He called with parched lips. From the shabby space emerged an old man, broom in hand.

“What place is this for the likes of you? Begone!”

He might have seemed to simply lash out, but the sweeping arc of his broom unfolded into the twenty-eight variations of the Taegu Staff Method, fierce and dazzling.

“Ugh! Agh! Master! Master…!”

A ragged old beggar with white whiskers was beating another beggar just as ragged as himself—a rare sight indeed.

If the old man wielded the broom, then Hwang Geolgae countered with the Drunken Eight Immortals Palm. But the gap in their skills was clear.

With each clash, a sharp crack resounded, and fresh welts bloomed across Hwang Geolgae’s palms as though he had been caned.

“Didn’t I tell you! Never! To! Seek! Out! This old man! Again!”

Each word punctuated with a blow, the old beggar’s ferocity was terrifying.

Though Hwang Geolgae now bore the title of one of the Eight Beggar Disciples and was treated as an elder of the Beggars’ Sect, before his master he was no more than the green fledgling he had once been.

“Please, Master!”

Enduring the beating, he shouted desperately.

“There is a guest! A guest has come!”

The broom halted. His master’s eyes burned, for he had already sensed that this unfilial disciple had not come alone. That was why his anger was so fierce.

“Did I not say I would never see those of the Martial Alliance again?”

His bearing belied any claim of feebleness.

Hwang Geolgae tasted bitterness. He knew well enough that his master had not retired due to age.

“N-not someone of the Martial Alliance.”

At that, Namgung Un stepped forth, as though he had been waiting.

Grateful tears pricked Hwang Geolgae’s eyes at his fortunate timing. Even at his age, his master’s strikes still hurt unbearably.

“I greet Elder Jeok. I am Namgung Un of the Namgung Clan.”

Namgung Un bowed with fists clasped.

“The Soaring Azure Dragon.”

As expected of the former head of the Beggars’ Sect—even retired, he knew the man before him at once.

“It is but a humble title, bestowed by my peers.”

Jeok Nogae at last lowered his broom. Not because he was embarrassed to chastise his disciple before a stranger, but because he had confirmed this was no emissary of the Martial Alliance.

In truth, the beating had been a show of protest against the guest.

If he could deal thus with a disciple he had personally raised, how much harsher would his display have been toward an unwelcome visitor?

“To think you would drag someone to such a place.”

He rebuked Hwang Geolgae before turning to Namgung Un with a weary face.

At first sight, Jeok Nogae had felt a chill. Though the youth’s features were different, his dignified air and upright bearing reminded him of a man he had once known.

“Young dragon, what business brings you to an old man who has retired to obscurity?”

As he stroked his long beard, there was a trace of hidden elegance. Gone was the frenzied old beggar of moments before.

“I came with questions to ask.”

“Better to ask that worthless disciple of mine than one who has already retired.”

Jeok Nogae waved dismissively. But as he turned away, Namgung Un spoke.

“I have come to inquire about the Heavenly Demon of this generation.”

At once, Jeok Nogae’s face hardened. His gaze snapped to Hwang Geolgae.

[Did you tell him?]

Je Haryang’s connection to him was from long ago. Few within the Beggars’ Sect knew anything of it.

[No, it’s just… Recently… in Seonyeong of Qinghai, we encountered the Heavenly Demon. He abducted a youth—and that youth happened to be the Namgung young lord’s acquaintance.]

He? Abduction?

Jeok Nogae shut his eyes. Even if he had changed, what right did he have to condemn him? He bore only guilt for the sins he had failed to atone.

“Amitabha, Amitabha.”

Living ignorant of learning all his life, he chanted the monks’ scripture in vain, but his torment would not fade. He lacked the wisdom to grasp the meaning, and his inner demons ran too deep.

[It did not seem mere youthful recklessness. That is why I brought him to you. If it displeases you, I will take him away at once.]

At his disciple’s cautious transmission, Jeok Nogae waved a hand.

“…I have no fine tea to offer a guest. But if you do not mind, come inside.”

The hut was cramped, barely enough for one body to lie down. A jar of water stood in one corner, with dried meat and pills like wall-grain pellets neatly stacked.

Yet within lingered not foul stench, but a faint herbal fragrance.

Jeok Nogae was unlike any beggar Namgung Un had seen. Even draped in rags, he radiated a transcendent air, like a Daoist hermit.

‘So this is the former head of the Beggars’ Sect… he is no ordinary man.’

“As you know, young lord, since stepping down as sect head, I have not kept abreast of the martial world. So I cannot claim to know all you seek. But if you first offer what you know, this old man will answer sincerely to the best of his ability.”

His plain, direct words left a strong impression.

“Then please, you first, Elder.”

Without hesitation, Jeok Nogae asked:

“The one the Heavenly Demon abducted—your acquaintance. Who is he?”

Namgung Un’s eyes flickered. He had not expected that question.

“…It is not difficult. The one taken from Seonyeong was a disciple of Kunlun. His name is Mun Yegyeol.”

At those words, the still eyes of Jeok Nogae flared with blood.