TSBIRBV Ch 71

Chapter 71 An Esper Who Knows When to Act (1)

For a full five days, Yegyeol hadn’t been able to hold his Senior Brother’s hand once.

“Coincidence?”

No, it wasn’t. Yegyeol cautiously but very skillfully avoided Haryang.

Using Samrang, assigned as his escort, as a shield was nothing unusual. Whenever Yegyeol was alone and met up, Haryang would suddenly want to ask about guild affairs and engage Jinyoung in conversation.

Usually indifferent toward Yegyeol, Jinyoung couldn’t hide his displeasure. Only after gauging their lord’s mood did he answer Yegyeol’s questions.

“I must follow my lord.”

“Just for a moment. Just a moment.”

“To give that moment means disrupting my busy, capable self.”

“I’ll call you ‘Teacher.’”

“What was your question?”

Je Haryang was all but excluded from this unbearably cute farce.

Yegyeol fired the painstakingly prepared questions at Jinyoung, then glanced subtly at Haryang’s face. When their eyes met, Haryang smiled softly, prompting Yegyeol to avert his gaze in surprise.

A hunting instinct, unknown even to himself, surged to his throat. He wanted to grab that small head and ask what was on it.

Haryang knew his desires would not be carried out gently. His judgment had long since deteriorated.

Until the guild talk ended, Haryang stayed put, waiting quietly for his subordinate and disciple’s conversation to finish.

“Oh, now I understand. I’ll go check the accounts right away.”

With a smile as if drawn, Yegyeol started to walk, and the sliding door, previously ajar by about a hand’s width, shut with a dull thud.

Though it seemed like a stray breeze had blown in, Jinyoung involuntarily blinked widely and bowed to adjust his brush.

“This room is supposed to be free of any drafts—why use the ‘Empty Space Water’?”

He was secretly terrified.

Unaware of his subordinate’s worries, Haryang approached Yegyeol quietly. Stopping abruptly as if nailed in place, Yegyeol tightly shut his eyes as Haryang’s hand neared him.

Unconsciously, Yegyeol made a reflexive gesture of rejection.

Haryang gave up advancing and spoke.

“Gyeol.”

His voice was as soft as finely woven silk, gently brushing Yegyeol’s ear. His eyelids trembled once before their gazes met.

Though Yegyeol shrank his shoulders like a prey animal about to be hunted, Haryang paid no mind.

Even if he was scared, Yegyeol couldn’t leave him. Having stepped beyond Kunlun’s bounds, no one could protect the disciple from Haryang.

“Guild work is important, but you must not forget to eat.”

“Of course.”

Though he never showed refusal, skirting away and avoiding him constantly, Yegyeol answered well. Haryang thought of a fledgling bird opening its red throat for food from its mother and lowered his gaze.

‘The disciple’s mouth was red as well.’

He recalled the night when Yegyeol’s lips fluttered and soft moans escaped while flushed with heat.

Haryang skillfully tucked away these inappropriate memories. He wasn’t greatly disturbed, but the recollections were of little use to the relationship he sought to keep.

“Never forget that you were in danger and have now recovered.”

Yegyeol averted his gaze slightly and answered in a lowered voice, nearly a whisper.

“Yes.”

Yegyeol’s voice was nearly inaudible. Haryang noted how strongly Yegyeol reacted to the phrase “dangerous situation” and smiled warmly.

“Let’s have dinner together. I’ve ordered a duck soup—your favorite.”

“Sounds good.”

Yegyeol smiled awkwardly. He’d tried his best but failure was evident.

When the disciple accepted, Haryang reached out. As always, Yegyeol expected the hand to touch him, but he hesitated and stepped backward.

Yet Haryang’s hand pushed open the door behind Yegyeol’s back.

“Then, see you at dinner.”

The man who opened a way for him wore the warmth he often feigned.

“Yes!”

With an expression mixed with guilt and torment, Yegyeol responded loudly but stumbled out of the room.

Haryang quietly returned to his seat, watching the disciple leave by the door he had opened.

“Still, Master Mun is earnest in his guild duties,” Jinyoung observed.

Haryang cast a sideways glance. Jinyoung’s question seemed more an attempt to probe Haryang’s innermost thoughts than genuine praise.

“When you handed Qinghai Trading to Master Mun, I did not realize he was so good at work. Has he shown that talent since Kunlun?”

“I wonder.”

Haryang drew a soft cloth from somewhere and moved toward a potted plant by the window. The plant was withered and dried up.

“I don’t know what he’s good at.”

The plant’s leaves had turned brown and brittle in the precious pot, looking especially pitiful. Jinyoung’s curiosity shifted toward the plant.

It was so dried out that its original form was unrecognizable; Jinyoung’s face turned awkward as he guessed what it was.

‘Besides, the assistant responsible for the master didn’t even clear away the dead plant?’

The plant had been in the room for weeks, casually handed over by Mun.

Haryang carefully wiped the leaves with the cloth. Surely, Jinyoung had never seen their lord behave like this.

‘No, it’s strange from the start to leave a plant to wither and die.’

Jinyoung decided not to dig deeper, scared by the sudden thought.

He closed his eyes and naturally voiced his suspicion.

“I always thought there was some deeper meaning to entrusting the guild to him.”

“More than that, I wanted to show something legal and complete among what I have.”

The more valuable it was, the better. He wanted the disciple to be shaken by what he inherited—for that would leave no room for complacency.

“I’m ashamed I have no respectable profession to show after twenty years, so I did this.”

Haryang didn’t want anyone to know that the person he was now was completely different from the man he was twenty years ago.

Je Haryang, forgotten by everyone—including himself—lived clearly in Yegyeol’s heart.

When the disciple looked at him with longing, the past overlaid for a fleeting moment and breathed anew. Without affectation, the Je Haryang twenty years ago smiled, spoke, and felt tenderness.

To Haryang, who had forgotten what it meant to be sound and human, this was a new and addictive stimulus.

“My decision wasn’t based on calculation, only desire.”

Haryang’s frank confession was refreshing. Even if Yegyeol ruined the entire guild, he would have merely watched silently.

Jinyoung, observing Haryang with a complex expression, spoke up.

“Your honesty embarrasses me, my lord.”

“Do you mean to confess that the disciple’s excellence is just flattery?”

Jinyoung laughed at this unlordly joke.

“You wanted loyalty, but I’m sorry to say you got a traitor like me.”

“It sounds good, but I’m not intoxicated, so that’s enough for now.”

Knowing Haryang wouldn’t rest outside a blaze, Jinyoung shook his head quietly.

“You seem inwardly conflicted.”

“Finally, the disciple has started avoiding me—it had to be.”

His hand, careful not to shatter the brittle leaf, stilled.

Jinyoung closed his eyes tightly.

It was impossible to claim a perfect explanation for all this. Even a disinterested Jinyoung noticed Yegyeol’s avoidance of Haryang was excessively obvious.

“I always knew it would come to this. I just wish I had a little more time.”

He seemed resigned to having never hoped anyway.

Jinyoung cautiously asked,

“Is it because of the Jiaolong King?”

From the kidnapping incident, Yegyeol learned of the bond between the Jiaolong King and Je Haryang.

Though decades had passed, learning that the most esteemed orthodox late-stage master was close to the river pirate leader was likely a shock.

“From what the disciple has learned, it’s only the Jiaolong King’s existence. A Senior Brother capable of outplaying the River Alliance’s master…”

One might not want to deal with that.

Haryang swallowed his next words. What use was speaking them aloud?

“Yeon Sosho agreed with my lord in a relationship of mutual debt, so it’s probably fine. Jianghu people risk their lives for both gratitude and revenge.”

Jinyoung’s remark made Haryang shake his head.

“In Jianghu, debts are just excuses for righteous causes. The disciple is no fool—he understands that well.”

The deeper the vendetta in big matters, the more so. A martial artist who wielded weapons all his life could turn gratitude and revenge alike into blades to stab enemies.

“But Master Mun calls you Senior Brother and follows you closely. He must believe in you. There must be other reasons.”

Like trying to catch a mouse with a cow’s kick—an accidental admission of truth that left unease on Jinyoung’s face.

Lost in concern for his lord, he found himself defending Master Mun again—and lamented his lot.

Putting the wild polecat away was a constant struggle; it always circled his lord’s neck.

“Well.”

His hand tightened—and a dry leaf shattered in it.

“The Senior Brother the disciple knew would never side with an absolute villain.”

— — —

Footnotes:

• Emmental cheese — Metaphor for espers’ porous natures.