TSBIRBV Ch 32

Im gonna do 1 chapter/day for this WN bc this have 500+ chapters and it might take 1+ year to finish this

 

Chapter 32 Black Ghost (4)

Meanwhile, Yegyeol was utterly dazed.

At the Esper Center, there were a few types of espers passed down in legend as those a guide should never associate with.

Chief among them: the ones who made their guide cry, the ones who made their guide faint, and the unfathomable ones… who made their guide kneel.

Making a guide cry or faint might be excused — there was always night work to consider as a mitigating factor. But to make them kneel? For that, there was no excuse under heaven.

So what if the strong body of an esper got a little bruised? How could it ever be justified that one’s own guide was forced onto their knees?

“H-hurry up and finish, please.”

Clenching his eyes shut, he offered his wrist. A quiet laugh tickled his ears.

“You’re thinking about this more than I thought.”

He felt the ointment spread gently on his wrist. Because his eyes were closed, the sensation of Haryang’s fingers softly gliding became all the more direct — along with the guiding flowing through those fingertips.

“What kind of disciple in the world makes his Senior Brother kneel down?”

Even his resolve to act properly cracked like a trembling sapling, making him show even more clearly how flustered he was.

“Who knows…”

Haryang’s reply was ambiguous. Yegyeol had half-expected him to add something like, “The Central Plains are vast, such things are bound to exist.” But instead, he was just quiet, wholly focused on massaging the ointment around his wrist.

“Right hand.”

Obediently, Yegyeol offered the other. At first, the sight of Senior Brother kneeling on one leg had horrified him — but at the tender touch, he melted completely.

So this is what it feels like to be cherished.

“I’ll make sure this never happens again.”

“But it wasn’t your fault, Senior Brother.”

“Who knows. Maybe the guards weren’t enough.”

He looked up, unsure if it was a joke. But Haryang’s eyes were serious.

Finally, releasing Yegyeol’s hands, Haryang said,

“It’s done.”

He stood. Like anyone whose feelings had been briefly exposed, his instinct was to flee.

Yegyeol seized his hand and yanked him back. With his strength deliberately loosened, that large body swayed easily toward his smaller disciple. He was always careful not to resist at the risk of hurting him. The gesture filled Yegyeol with a quiet pride.

“Stroke my head.”

Looking up as the taller man regained his balance, Yegyeol demanded boldly.

After their reunion, Senior Brother had seemed oddly unwilling to touch him. He’d neither embraced him nor even kept his hand on him once the medicine was applied.

Perhaps it was because of what he had learned as Black Ghost. Though tall himself, Yegyeol was small enough to fit entirely into Je Haryang’s wide shoulders and chest.

“You…”

Haryang faltered, then set down the ointment jar and reached out.

The soft sound of strands of hair brushing through his fingers came with guiding that seeped sweetly, steadily taking hold of Yegyeol.

“Mm. That’s nice…”

Even the pungent herb smell suddenly seemed sweet.

For an esper, a guide was this — a window to the world when one was isolated in a locked room. Through that window alone, one experienced life’s sweet, salty, sour, bitter, spicy flavors.

“You really are a lot of work.”

“You hate it?”

His soft brown gaze was already threaded through with nervousness.

“No.”

Haryang’s lips curved gently, though it wasn’t quite a smile.

“I… like it.”

His hand grew bolder, sweeping back the fallen hair behind Yegyeol’s ears. Yegyeol closed his eyes quietly, surrendering to the touch.

When that hand refused to release him, and Haryang sat at his side, Yegyeol slid easily into resting his head on his lap.

Looking down at his disciple’s open, defenseless face, an unfamiliar thirst nagged at Haryang’s throat.

Samrang had reported to him that Yegyeol was extremely sensitive — picky about beds, food, clothes. Yet before him, Yegyeol showed none of it. Meeting his shining gaze was both perplexing and astonishing.

It was like watching a fledgling mistake a snake’s hollow for a nest. Seeking shelter from the rain, mistaking cold scales for a mother’s feathers, blindly burrowing close.

Though pushed away toward the door, he clung tighter instead. To Yegyeol, Je Haryang’s side seemed the most natural place of all.

“They say the spirit beast you brought did splendid work.”

“Yes. Baembeam helped a lot.”

At the sound of its name, the golden snake slithered from his cuff. As soon as it met Je Haryang’s eyes, it shrank back. For a spirit creature, its instincts were sharp.

“You’ve gained a good friend. If Baembeam needs anything, tell me or Samrang.”

Even with the laughable name ‘Baembeam,’ his tone was composed, almost stately — and it sent a flutter through Yegyeol.

“Yes.”

He answered meekly.

Indulging in his Senior Brother’s caresses again, the hours slipped until evening.

“Was Sichuan cuisine too much for you?”

“The spices were exciting, but I enjoyed it.”

“Is that so?”

“At Kunlun we always had plain food. And fire-cooked dishes were rare… So trying different flavors was fun.”

Watching him lie so smoothly, Haryang only pushed more dishes toward him. Yegyeol dutifully ate whatever was offered, sweets included.

With his belly full and his guiding cup brimming, he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep there.

“If you sleep now, you’ll wake in the morning. Best return to your room.”

“I could sleep here.”

He leaned drowsily, but Haryang gently straightened him up.

“I still have duties to tend. I might wake you from sound sleep.”

“I could wait up until you sleep.”

Suddenly bright-eyed again, he met the words with stubbornness. Haryang chuckled gently, brushing the middle of his forehead, pouring guiding until Yegyeol almost nodded off sitting.

No, wait…

“You just came back from a hard journey. Your body’s weak. You need rest.”

Yegyeol’s lips opened, closed… then gave up. To any martial artist, a man without internal energy was like a fragile reed. And hadn’t he faced death so many times already?

“When you finish, you’ll rest too?”

“Of course.”

The reply came smoothly. Nearly guilty, Yegyeol rose.

“I’ll see you off.”

“It’s just the manor. I can go alone.”

He raised his voice bravely.

Espers who forced their guide to kneel were irredeemable trash. But espers who selfishly ruined their guide’s well-being for their own convenience? That was still worse.

Even his thin excuse for a conscience couldn’t let him be both.

I’ll only give him the very best.

Fingering the sleeve that hid Baembeam, he came face to face with Jinyoung, standing by the door burdened with rolls of bamboo slips. Enough work to last a night.

“All of that is for Senior Brother?”

Yegyeol narrowed his eyes.

“Yes. Most of it, anyway.”

He shrugged. It was work he should’ve done much earlier, but their lord had delayed everything for time with his disciple.

“Jinyoung, if you say it that way, won’t the young master worry? Remind him that most of it only needs to be reported, not decided.”

“Ah, you’re right. Forgive me, Young Master. As he said, I’ll be able to finish most of this with just brief reports.”

Jinyoung’s customer-service smile was flawless, soulless.

So you’ll pull an all-nighter…

No wonder Senior Brother had all but chased him off.

Biting his tongue, Yegyeol only waved and said,

“I’m going now! See you tomorrow.”

Pushing further would not make the pile shrink. Better to retreat for now.

But as he walked away, fists clenched, a new fire lit in his eyes.

I’ll earn enough to retire him.

An ambition no martial man would dare dream of. His gaze blazed like flame with the thought.

Footnotes:

 

• Kunlun — one of the Nine Great Orthodox Sects in wuxia/murim fiction, associated with restraint and purity in food and lifestyle. 
• Bamboo slips (죽간본) — bundles of bamboo strips used before paper to record documents.