TSBIRBV Ch 7

Chapter 7. The Departed Must Return (6)

Impossible.

The thought crossed Yegyeol’s mind before he could stop it, and he almost laughed aloud. Sure, many espers feared being mistreated or controlled by their guides—but Je Haryang, the man he knew, would never be that kind of person.

His senior brother had been the very model of moral rectitude—a man so upright that even Kunlun’s elders would concede to him in principle. Unless he, too, had died and been reborn, he was not the type to imprison a disciple simply for being unwell.

“When the bandages come off… will I be allowed outside?”

At that earnest question, Je Haryang nodded without hesitation.

“If that is what you wish.”

Ah. Too good to be true.

Even with the easy permission, Yegyeol smiled, disappointed yet amused.

Well, every journey of a thousand li begins with a single step.

“Are you feeling… stifled?”

The hesitation in Haryang’s voice was subtle but there. Yegyeol shook his head.

“With you taking such good care of me? Not at all. I think I’m just… still a little confused.”

He fidgeted with the blanket, his fingers curling lightly around the edge.

“It’s alright. Truly.”

Haryang’s hand brushed gently over his hair—careful, tentative, but impossibly kind. The touch made Yegyeol’s heart settle.

“Focus on recovering first. Once your strength returns, I’ll show you around the manor after sunset.”

He really did know how to dangle the perfect bait. Yegyeol smiled sweetly and nodded.

Since his senior brother was now a merchant, there was no reason for him to return to Kunlun. Which meant he ought to familiarize himself with the estate where he’d likely be staying for some time.

Now, how can I stay here—permanently?

That was his newest and most pressing concern.

But before that came reconnaissance. He needed to understand the people around Haryang.

There’s no way a man like him could remain single forever.

Back in Kunlun, marriage had been forbidden, as they followed Daoist discipline. But Haryang had been expelled—cast out—and now lived as a merchant.

Even as a disciple, the man had drawn endless whispers of admiration and romantic gossip. And now, freed from his vows, what woman in her right mind would leave such a man alone?

It was, in short, a crisis.

Judging from the way he hasn’t questioned my face too much, not more than ten years have passed.

In both lives, he looked almost identical—down to the shape of his eyes and curve of his smile. The only differences came from circumstance.

In his previous life, as an orphan scraping by on the streets of Hangzhou before joining Kunlun, malnutrition had left him scrawny and frail.

But now, at twenty, he’d grown taller, his frame stronger and more refined. Having living parents meant never going hungry, and his awakening as an S-class esper had likely affected his physical development too.

His eyes were a shade lighter now, his hair a touch paler. Anyone who had known the seventeen-year-old Yegyeol closely would have noticed the difference.

Fortunately, Je Haryang had never known him that well. As Kunlun’s brightest disciple, Haryang had always been a distant figure, while Yegyeol had been the trouble-prone youngest. Close enough to recognize, but not enough to truly see.

That distance was what kept him safe now.

If the demonic sect hadn’t invaded, would he even remember someone like me?

Yegyeol sighed inwardly, sending a silent prayer skyward.

Please, Great Primordial Lord… let my senior brother be too busy with trade to meet any beautiful maidens. Or, better yet, let him have clung to his Kunlun vows even after being expelled.

While Je Haryang remained blissfully unaware of what sort of desperate wish his disciple was offering the heavens, he asked softly,

“…Do you remember who did this to you?”

His tone was low, gentle—almost coaxing, like one would use with a child.

“A name, a face—anything at all will do.”

There was a dangerous edge beneath that quiet voice.

“Well…”

Yegyeol wet his dry lips. He could offer his guide his heart on a platter—but this was another matter entirely.

How could he possibly explain that he’d already reduced his attacker to ash with lightning? Or that the body had vanished into another dimension, so there was no proof left to find?

No—he still wanted to look like a good, obedient disciple. That was the only way this overly responsible man would keep hovering close.

And above all… he didn’t want Haryang to think he was insane.

Damn it. I’ve recovered too fast. Being this healthy is turning into a problem.

He thought furiously for a solution, until he remembered a trick an esper senior from the center had once taught him.

“…Ah!”

He widened his eyes suddenly and touched his forehead, letting his body sway. Immediately, Haryang was there, catching him.

“Yegyeol!”

Nestled against the broad warmth of that chest, Yegyeol breathed unevenly. Haryang’s hand stroked his back in worry. Yegyeol let his shoulders tremble deliberately, then stilled, sensing the older man’s relief.

Now came the delicate part.

“I… I can’t really remember.”

He lifted his head, lashes trembling, and fixed his wavering gaze squarely on Haryang.

“I was terrified. And then… I saw you, and I felt safe. But the rest is just… blank.”

He bit down on his lip, hoping for a convincing effect—but before he could draw blood, Haryang’s fingers pressed gently between his teeth.

Startled, Yegyeol realized he’d bitten him. He tried to pull away—but the faint taste that touched his tongue made his breath catch.

It was his guide’s energy. Sweet. So impossibly sweet.

Without thinking, he licked it. Just once.

He wanted to keep going—to taste more, to draw that warmth in—but the faint tremor that ran through the large body holding him stopped him cold.

Too far. I’ve gone too far.

With effort, he let go, lowering his head in shame that was only half-feigned.

“Biting your lip like that!”

Though clearly shaken, Haryang’s voice came out stern, as if nothing had happened.

Yegyeol clicked his tongue inwardly. Still impossible to read.

“What if you’d drawn blood?” Haryang scolded.

Feeling reckless, Yegyeol murmured, “I’m fine, but what about your hand? I left a bite mark…”

He ducked his head, trying to hide the heat rising in his cheeks.

“I heard… saliva helps it heal faster.”

Maybe if he said it with enough pitiful sincerity…

Haryang sighed softly and offered his hand.

“See? No blood. Just a mark. Nothing to worry about.”

Yegyeol took it without hesitation, turning it over between his fingers. Even with the faint crescent of teeth marks, the skin was beautiful. He didn’t want to let go.

“I’m glad. I’d feel terrible if I’d really hurt you.”

His voice trailed off wistfully as he finally released it. The whole act was so overdone that even he thought it ridiculous—but it worked.

He remembered, now, how the senior esper had said: You’ll understand once you meet your guide.

He’d scoffed back then. Now he did understand. Perfectly.

“You should worry about yourself first,” Haryang murmured, lightly tapping his forehead.

That single touch made Yegyeol’s heart flutter like a butterfly brushing against his ribs.

Why did it feel so good? Because this man was his guide? Or because his long-lost idol was alive and within reach again?

He didn’t know anymore.

“You need to recover quickly so you can return,” Haryang said quietly.

“Return?”

Yegyeol blinked, puzzled. Return where?

In his past life, he’d been an orphan. In this one, his parents were dead. The word felt out of place, foreign.

And then, Haryang dropped it—like a stone into still water.

“To Kunlun.”