Martial Arts Masochist

Cheongwol gazed down at Han Seojin, who was sleeping peacefully.

If she thought about how all this commotion had happened just to ruin Dang Soran’s betrothal, anger, irritation, and an inexplicable frustration welled up inside her.

Yet before his calm breathing, even those emotions lost their power.

Looking at him asleep like this soothed her anger.

And slipping into the gap left by those settled feelings was one sincere truth.

She hoped his body would recover quickly.

The more she calmed her emotions, the clearer that fact became.

Cheongwol had already pressed his acupoints several times to infuse him with qi and examined every corner of his body.

There was no trace of poison at all.

In other words, he was simply lost in peaceful slumber right now.

She wouldn’t know for sure until he woke, but in her mix of relief and worry, Cheongwol gently stroked his hair for a while.

Night had deepened before she knew it.

She had been by his side since daytime, yet only now did she realize how much time had passed.

Strangely, while staying with him, even the flow of time felt dulled.

His eyes, nose, lips, hands and arms, the rise and fall of his breathing, the moments he shifted in his sleep, even the occasional soft snore he let out.

Just taking in all of it with her gaze brought a strange pleasure.

And the more she cherished him in her eyes.

The thicker her sense of relief grew.

The deeper the night fell, subtle changes began to seep into Cheongwol’s body as well.

The trigger for this change had been that day, the moment Han Seojin toyed with her breast tip.

When apart from him, an inexplicable stuffiness, sensitivity, and groundless anxiety assaulted her.

Conversely, being together, meeting his eyes, sharing talk strangely calmed her heart.

Then, drawing one step closer to smell his scent, lying together, deeply receiving his gaze—heat rose within her, her heart pounding fast.

It was as if her breast tip tingled again, an unresolved knot tormenting her from some deep place.

At the same time, her eyes kept seeking his hands.

Those hands that had played with her.

Those lips that had demeaned her.

Those eyes.

All of them parts that only tormented her, yet her body shamelessly gazed at them.

Especially—more than anything—her eyes kept lingering on his lips.

All day nursing by his side, the place where Cheongwol’s gaze had sunk deepest was surely his lips.

“…”

…They must be soft, right?

They would be soft.

As Cheongwol brushed his hair aside, she was seized by the impulse to trace the curve of his lips with her fingertips.

Suppressing her curiosity was harder than enduring torture.

It was ridiculous.

Han Seojin touched her however he wanted, yet here she was, hesitant even with him asleep, unable to lay a hand on his lips.

“…”

But now night had deepened.

No eyes watching, no ears listening.

Whatever she did now, no one to blame or judge her—that fact subtly fanned the sparks of temptation.

How sweet crossing taboos could be at times; the first to teach her that was none other than Han Seojin.

“…Branch Master, asleep?”

Cheongwol stroked his hair with a bit more strength than before.

Perhaps unconsciously testing at what point he might wake.

Even with quite some force in touching his head, he showed no sign of stirring.

He seemed wholly absorbed in recovering.

Watching his unresponsive form, the heat in her body grew hotter.

The lump in her chest twisted tighter. Like instinctively seeking water in thirst, Cheongwol sought Han Seojin.

Swish…

Before she knew it, she was climbing onto Han Seojin’s bed.

She didn’t even know what she was doing. Or why.

Her body moved on its own, and Cheongwol surrendered to it.

Instinct led her. And she didn’t hate it that much.

Swish…

Cheongwol’s long hair cascaded over Han Seojin’s face.

Her two arms by his head, her two knees by his hips.

Cheongwol looked down at the sleeping man.

“…”

This isn’t right?

Her reason warned her in that instant.

She didn’t know what it was, but she knew for sure this wasn’t allowed.

Just as she understood without anyone telling her that her games with Han Seojin had to stay secret.

This moment, this act—it was something she shouldn’t do.

“…But it’s the Branch Master’s fault, right?”

So Cheongwol countered her senses with an excuse.

She realized now, but her body was aroused.

She couldn’t understand why the excitement had surged so suddenly. But it was the truth.

All day staring at sleeping Han Seojin, unable to do anything—perhaps her patience had run out.

“I told you not to get involved with Dang Soran… You promised you wouldn’t…”

She wasn’t really angry, but she pretended to be.

Unknowingly, Cheongwol bit and moistened her own lips.

“You didn’t even give me my present, and you come back all hurt for that bitch Dang Soran, so of course I’m mad.”

On top of that, how many days had he left her alone already?

It had been ages since their last play. If he’d shown even a little attention, it wouldn’t have come to this.

Lately, Han Seojin’s attention seemed wholly fixed on Dang Soran.

That made her so angry and hateful.

If only Han Seojin got a chance to play with Dang Soran soon, then per their promise, Cheongwol could stand by his side and clearly show who was superior.

“…So it’s the Branch Master’s fault. Got it?”

Cheongwol’s heart raced wildly.

Just like during their plays—that sensation, strangely lewd and tense… yet impossible to stop.

Cheongwol’s eyes fixed on Han Seojin’s lips.

She didn’t know much, but she wanted to press her lips to those.

Isn’t this something friends could do plenty?

It wasn’t that she desperately wanted to try it; the problem was curiosity driving her.

The problem was her body demanding she do it.

Even if Han Seojin hated it, she didn’t care. This was her punishment for him.

Her eyes fluttering, she tucked her obstructing hair behind her ear, squeezed her eyes shut trembling, and lowered her head…

Snap!

“Eek!”

Han Seojin suddenly woke, hugged Cheongwol, and rolled her to the side.

Shocked into stiffness, Cheongwol snapped to awareness, as if cold water had been dumped on her head.

Her body was pulled into his embrace.

“Exhausted, so let’s sleep.”

His low voice rumbled near her ear.

Cheongwol couldn’t even resist. She knew she’d been caught trying something, but not what.

Her heart felt like bursting, shame flushing her face. No excuses came.

She wriggled slightly to escape his arms, but the more she did, the deeper she sank, like caught in a net.

“Sleep, Branch Master. What are you…!”

“You woke me up like that, how could I not? So sleep.”

“Eut…!”

As he did so, Han Seojin patted Cheongwol’s back like soothing a baby.

At that steady, warm, soft sensation, tension gradually left Cheongwol’s body.

She had plenty of excuses she wanted to spit out, but they’d all sound stupid.

So better to just accept his touch than bother excusing herself.

Besides, Han Seojin, still half in sleep, didn’t seem to handle the situation well either.

“…”

So Cheongwol nodded and slowly relaxed in his arms.

Her heart pounded like mad, but the stuffiness and irritation from before were gone.

Her body grew hotter, but strangely comfortable—not a bad feeling.

“Sleep, sleep, Cheongwol.”

“…Wol-i.”

“…Yeah, sleep, sleep, Wol.”

Cheongwol slowly closed her eyes.

Yet she felt she wouldn’t fall asleep for a long time either.

****

Had she ever had such a frightening experience in her life?

“…But it’s the Branch Master’s fault, right?”

It felt like sleep paralysis; coming to her senses, someone was whispering right in front of her face.

That stifled voice. Slightly ragged breathing.

One thing was certain: she harbored some deep-seated grudge.

“I told you not to get involved with Dang Soran… You promised you wouldn’t…”

Ah, fuck.

Hearing her words made his blood run cold.

She’s pissed after all. Knew she would be.

Not once or twice, but repeatedly warned, and he kept breaking it—how could she not be mad?

But so what?

What is she gonna do…!

Is it night now? Why no crickets?

Why’s it so dark around? Where are the uncles?

Why the hell am I alone with this girl?

When did I fall asleep? Did I faint seeing Cheongwol’s shadow?

“You didn’t even give me my present, and you come back all hurt for that bitch Dang Soran, so of course I’m mad.”

She’s mad, she says it herself.

I swallowed hard.

Why is she straddling me, looking down?

…And why whisper in such an enraged voice.

Her plan was unknown, but her intent came through clear.

She was about to retaliate somehow.

“…So it’s the Branch Master’s fault. Got it?”

At those words, I hurriedly hugged her.

That line sounded like something said right before murder.

“Eek!”

The terrifying Cheongwol vanished, replaced by a frail woman in my arms.

I patted her back like soothing a lion, praying it worked.

Fortunately, while patting, she seemed to calm.

If her breathing steadied and I paused…

“…I’m not sleeping.”

“Annoying.”

Pat, pat…

I repeated frantically moving my hand.

No idea when it’d end, but it felt like swimming in the open ocean.

Not like this till morning, right?

Upright!

Then, Cheongwol suddenly sat up.

I startled, heart nearly tearing.

What!

“Eut…!”

Cheongwol winced briefly, then yanked all the blanket over and flipped it on.

“Branch Master. Guest’s here.”

Then, silence like she’d vanished.

“…?”

As I paused in confusion, someone knocked.

Knock, knock, knock.

The guest Cheongwol mentioned?

Grateful to escape her embrace at least, I got up.

Who’d visit this late?

The uncles?

“Yes, who is it?”

Creeak…

Opening the door, my thoughts froze.

The Poison King stood there.