Martial Arts Masochist

What? You’re hiding the Detoxification Immortal Root because it seems like it’d be fun?

Outrageous.

Whether that’s sincere or not, one thing’s clear.

Dang Soran is throwing a tantrum because she wants to do some SM play.

Thinking back, it’s been like that the whole journey.

She kept pranking and provoking me to make me angry somehow.

If she’s got a bratty streak, then she was probably trying to draw out a long, drawn-out playthrough with her provocations.

Honestly, it kinda worked.

Now that the embarrassment has settled, I’m just pissed.

I’d felt pretty guilty about feeding her scraps and making her sleep on the floor all those days, but turns out she got what she wanted and just hid it?

What was all my suffering for? Why the hell were we even doing this?

Because of you, I’m delayed getting back to Mount Emei! If Cheongwol flips out at me again, it’s not like you’re taking responsibility…!

But even so, I wasn’t emotional enough to get lost in this anger.

My head was spinning calculations fast.

Dang Soran doesn’t want to give me the Detoxification Immortal Root.

She says she’ll hand it over if we do it in the Holy City. Does that even make sense?

Just do it here.

Give me what you’re supposed to. Do the SM play. It’s not that hard.

Isn’t that what this masochist wants? Satisfy her, and we’re good?

I can feel Cheongwol’s gaze boring into the back of my head, but ignore it.

Me too—I’ve reached my limit wanting to torment Dang Soran.

Since she’s accepted it herself, she won’t suddenly pull a dagger and stab my throat.

Public outdoor play. Always wanted to try it.

With all the bandits knocked out cold, there’s no better stage.

I steeled my resolve.

Time for revenge, pouring out all the pent-up anger.

And if the revenge goes well, I can get the Detoxification Immortal Root back at the end.

****

Dang Soran was dragged to the center of the bandit lair by Han Seojin’s rough grip.

She still couldn’t believe it.

Do it here? …How?

Unlike the comfort of her own room. Or the secretive darkness of Han Seojin’s basement.

This place was wide open, total chaos.

It was anything but a private space.

No matter how filthy and wrecked Dang Soran looked, this place couldn’t contain her.

Like a single flower blooming in an outhouse.

It really was like that.

The bandit lair, messed up from the fierce battle, wasn’t fit for the Tang Clan of Sichuan’s precious jewel.

Even without the battle, it probably would’ve been the same.

Dang Soran scanned her surroundings with trembling eyes.

The foul stench of dirty bandits wafting from all sides.

Dozens of burly men sprawled unconscious.

Really do it here?

In front of these lowly scum, getting my ass spanked like back then…

“Eek…!”

What if they wake up?

We used strong poison, but what if one wakes up by some fluke?

Just imagining it overwhelmed Dang Soran, and she slapped away Han Seojin’s hand.

Smack!

Han Seojin glared at Dang Soran.

Meeting his eyes was already hard for her.

She probably still felt guilty about hiding the Detoxification Immortal Root.

“I… have I gone mad?”

Even so, this was too much.

Her uncharacteristic rough speech flowed out naturally.

“Do it here? Young Master, do you keep forgetting who I am? I’m Dang Soran! The eldest of the Tang Clan of Sichuan!”

“You’re the one who wanted to play.”

“When did I say I wanted to do it in a place like this!”

“Since when was this ‘play’ on your terms?”

“…Eek!”

Han Seojin was unflinching.

“I want to do it here, so we do it here. I don’t remember giving you any choices. You knew all that and still wanted to play, right?”

Dang Soran’s legs shook.

She wanted it, but didn’t.

She craved it, but not like this.

This was too much. Too scary.

Above all, it was shocking.

The Han Seojin who’d been so dim and sigh-heavy for a month, gentle in a way—now he was overly dictatorial and overbearing.

Like he’d suddenly forgotten the word “consideration.”

She couldn’t fathom where the bond they’d built, enough to call him a friend, had vanished to.

“On the flip side, I don’t get it. Didn’t you want punishment? You’re the one who kept bothering me to scold you.”

“Hah, but… this place…”

“You didn’t want it at your preferred intensity, your preferred way, just enough to feel comfy, did you? That’s just self-satisfaction to forget your guilt—not punishment. You’re not that petty, surely.”

Shame burned her cheeks. Maybe Han Seojin was right.

Maybe she’d been seeking someone to punish her ugly self just enough to feel good.

But like he said, that was mere self-indulgence.

“Getting punished, Soran-ah…”

Soran-ah. Why did that sound so good even now?

“Is when deep down, you say ‘I did wrong.’ That’s true punishment.”

Good and bad feelings tangled, confusing her.

“Last chance. You gonna hand over the Detoxification Immortal Root? Then we stop the play.”

Dang Soran looked at the root in her hand, then at the bandits around.

She truly didn’t want to play here. No lie.

She really didn’t.

“…”

…But hand it over, and Han Seojin goes back to Mount Emei.

Back to Cheongwol. Losing the Han Seojin she wanted.

“I’ll say it instead. Become one of my household. Then this Detoxification Immortal Root…”

“…Words won’t cut it.”

Swish!

Han Seojin reached into his pack and pulled out a rope.

The one he’d used to bind 녹림도 suspects he needed to interrogate.

Dang Soran flinched at the sight, body trembling unwittingly.

She knew it was the same rope from his basement, the one that bound her before.

He nodded curtly.

“Arms behind your back, hands together politely for me.”

“Wh… why should I…!”

“Hands out, Soran-ah. Time for punishment.”

She bit her lip. She couldn’t understand why she hesitated at this absurd demand.

In this bandit lair, hand over control of her body? How?

They were in a standoff—how could she bow her head?

Her pride wouldn’t let her, even if it stung.

“No…! I said no here…!”

“…You screw up, but won’t take the punishment.”

Hah. His hollow laugh carried no warmth anymore.

Fatigue, disappointment, cold resignation mixed in that smile.

His eyes turned icy and detached.

“…Ah… aaah…”

The look Dang Soran feared most. Han Seojin’s disappointed gaze at her.

Eyes looking at a stranger, affection cooled, expectations gone.

Her body began to tremble in fits at the drop.

“Fine. I give up too. Keep the Detoxification Immortal Root. Our business is done. Let’s go our separate ways.”

“Y-Young Master…!”

“But know this before you go. Don’t come to my Leather Room anymore.”

That declaration tore something in her chest.

“This is for your sake. Even if you show up, I’ll ignore you from now on.”

The past month had been so precious to her—could he shake it off this lightly?

…No. It couldn’t be. That meant Han Seojin was that disappointed.

He had no choice.

She’d whined like a kid, always provoking, but turned away when punishment came… He’d turned his back on such a shallow her.

“I don’t need bad kids who won’t listen. Plenty of obedient ones out there—why bother? Especially a troublemaker like you—”

“—I kn…! I kn…ow already…!”

Dang Soran couldn’t hear more.

From the start, she knew she was throwing a tantrum.

Hiding the Detoxification Immortal Root—she was the wrong one.

She understood Han Seojin’s anger perfectly.

Dang Soran finally bowed her head.

Vision blurred, forehead slick with cold sweat.

…Why did she hate it so much, yet feel this ticklish thrill?

Her whole body heated up.

But she made up her mind. Slowly, she raised her arms.

It’d be okay. His punishments might not be as bad as she thought.

He’s human—he wouldn’t go too far here.

Just a setup to punish her.

Dang Soran crossed her arms behind her back.

She swallowed hard.

Then slowly turned her back to Han Seojin.

“…Here…”

Meekly, like a good girl, offering herself to be bound.

Immense humiliation crashed over her. Like a dog rolling over belly-up.

Surrendering herself like this.

…But paradoxically, Dang Soran felt strange relief too.

Like she’d paid a bit of her debt.

“Will… will you forgive me now?”

Han Seojin let out a long sigh, then roughly bound her arms.

He whispered in her ear.

“…This is just the first step.”

Dang Soran ended up with her arms bound in front of the bandits.

Just moments ago, she’d been hurling daggers, making them quake—now reduced to a lowly woman with hands tied behind her back at one man’s command.

If one of them woke and saw her like this.

…Dang Soran would carry that wound forever.

And that fact brought a weird chill.

The Poison Phoenix of the great Tang Clan of Sichuan, submitting to a mere lowly man—seen by these bandits?

Game over. No going back.

Yet a prickling sensation kept piercing her.

Humiliation and pleasure intertwined—breathless in this nameless emotion.

Han Seojin, having bound her arms, stood before her again.

Dang Soran felt brazen, but a twinge of hurt toward Han Seojin too.

Did it really have to be here?

Was making her like this satisfying him?

Han Seojin’s answer came quick.

He placed one hand on her cheek and said,

“Now you look pretty.”

“Eek!”

Dang Soran’s heart pounded like it was broken.

In their month together, Han Seojin had never said anything so sweet.

He’d joked in limited, embracing ways.

Never crossed the line of propriety.

But now, he hopped that thick wall effortlessly.

Dang Soran lost her senses too.

“N… now we’re good?”

“Didn’t I say just the first step?”

Han Seojin rummaged in his pack again. Out came a long cloth.

He pressed it to Dang Soran’s eyes without hesitation.

“Wh-what…!”

She tried to block with her hands, but they were bound.

No resistance—vision went black.

“Y-Young Master! I can’t see!”

“That’s the point.”

No more scary Han Seojin, no filthy bandits.

But their unseen presence didn’t comfort her.

On the contrary, the darkness let imagination devour her.

Suddenly, bandits rising, staring right at her.

“Haa…! Haa…!”

Dang Soran realized then.

From the moment she surrendered control, she’d been relying on Han Seojin.

Like when washing in the lake—only him to lean on in shame.

“Y-Young Master, you’re there, right?”

“Tied you right in front. Of course I’m right here.”

“Why… why do this…”

“Why? Wasn’t it meaningless to you? So empty, no stimulation at all. So this shouldn’t matter, right?”

“…”

Dang Soran was speechless.

She was confused too. It had been like that.

So empty.

What was this mad torrent of emotions now?

What were these vivid colors?

Eyes blind, yet imagination unfolded in detail.

Filthy bandits leering, mocking her.

Red boozehound noses. Yellow, crooked teeth. Gray lips smirking.

“Haa… haa… Y-Young Master. N-no one’s waking up, right?”

“Shh. Be quiet or you’ll wake them. That guy’s twitching over there?”

“Hnng… hnn…”

A moan like a sob escaped her.

Slide…

“…Ah!”

Then, arms embracing her.

Dang Soran stopped breathing again.

Han Seojin was hugging her.

Her wretched form hidden in his embrace.

A moment to catch her breath.

The gradual hug deepened.

Squeezing out the air filling her chest, warm and intense.

Feeling the male-female difference again—it stirred lewd excitement.

Comfortable.

After 15 nights without fire, sleeping rough, her body had adapted to his warmth.

His arms were her bed now.

Yet she couldn’t grasp this sudden act.

“Young Master… why…”

“Last chance. Can you just hand over the Detoxification Immortal Root? Then we end it here.”

“…”

…End it here?

She’d hated submitting earlier. Still scared now.

Bandits watching her.

Hands bound, eyes blind.

Powerless beyond powerless.

So stopping was right.

No reason to continue this madness.

“…”

…But Han Seojin’s embrace was too warm.

Imagining him back on Mount Emei, Cheongwol waiting—just that choked her with vague frustration.

This warmth embracing Cheongwol… she hated it.

Greed surged again.

Coveting what wasn’t hers.

Her filthy nature—must possess to be satisfied—raged.

Right now, he was focused on her.

These vivid stimuli so new.

Dang Soran shook her head again.

“…Can’t… give it back.”

“Got it.”

Han Seojin stopped persuading.

Swish.

He released the hug and stepped away.

Dang Soran instinctively craved his warmth, stepping forward.

“Young Mas—”

Riiip!!

A tearing cloth sound echoed.

Cool air hit Dang Soran’s upper body.

“…Huh??”

Frozen in confusion, she finally understood.

Han Seojin had sliced her clothes vertically.

Knife? Leather knife? Unclear.

But her bare skin was fully exposed to the world—certain.

Thud.

Something dropped at her feet. The light pressure supporting her chest gone; soft fabric brushed her skin.

“Our Soran.”

Han Seojin said then, mockingly.

“…Has such a cute belly button?”

Dang Soran couldn’t hold back anymore.

“KyaAAaAaH!!”

Her scream echoed through the sleeping bandit lair.