Martial Arts Masochist

I walked a bit inside the Tang Clan grounds before stopping and looking at Dang Soran.

“Miss Soran, there’s no one around now. Just tell me.”

Honestly, I was a little anxious.

It was because I’d seen Dang Soran’s act.

She’d suddenly shaken off the servants trying to follow us.

‘No need, I said. Go, hurry up and go.’

‘But miss…’

‘I mean it! Go on! I’m an adult too. I don’t need help.’

It might look like a tomboyish lady throwing a tantrum, but knowing Dang Soran as I did, I suspected her intentions a bit.

Why?

What was she up to now?

What scheme had she cooked up this time?

I stopped and looked at her.

“I told you to speak.”

“…”

Dang Soran didn’t even answer.

She just ignored me and kept walking.

I glanced at her, then turned my eyes aside.

There, in the distance, was the Tang Clan’s main gate.

If you ignore me, I’ll ignore you too.

Should I just leave?

Thud!

As I thought about heading out, Dang Soran closed the distance and grabbed my right hand with both of hers.

“…Hurry. Come on quick. Why are you so slow?”

She lay back, pulling me along.

I called her out on it.

“We can talk right here. How far are we going?”

“Young Master… just once, please…”

“And look at me when you talk. What’s with the makeup that you can’t even look at me?”

“Ugh…!”

Dang Soran was uncharacteristically staring at the ground.

She even looked strangely desperate, as if entranced by something.

Her ears were red, and her neck too.

Was it the sunset?

The more unusual she was than usual, the more uneasy I felt.

“We’ll talk in the room… I’ll tell you in the room.”

I looked around.

“I told you no one’s here. What’s the big deal? It’s late; I need to go.”

“I even got permission from Elder Gwak…”

Gwak Du Uncle?

Since when was he an elder?

“What does getting permission from Gwak Du Uncle have to do with this?”

I pulled my hand free from Dang Soran.

Then I turned and headed out.

“If you won’t tell me, I’m leaving.”

At that, Dang Soran scurried up behind me and pushed my back this time.

“Just to the room. To the room, Young Master.”

“No, that’s not—”

“—I thought of a way to shake off Jegal Yong…!”

Dang Soran finally spoke.

Her words made me blink.

For a moment, I was torn.

And in that gap, Dang Soran hooked her arm in mine.

“What the—”

“L-Let’s go.”

She was much closer than usual.

Her subtly changed demeanor bothered me a little, but with a sigh, I started walking.

“…Sigh.”

As we walked, I mulled over her words, and my thoughts shifted slightly.

Fine.

The Poison King gave his approval, so let’s help her shake off Jegal Yong a bit more.

****

Thud.

Dang Soran let Han Seojin into her chambers and closed the door.

Only after bringing him in did she regain her senses.

She must have seemed too desperate.

For a moment, she’d lost her composure.

The eldest daughter of the great Tang Clan of Sichuan, the Poison Phoenix Dang Soran—what did she see in this beggar to drag him here in such haste?

Han Seojin was still Han Seojin.

Nothing had changed, so why was she acting like this?

With a sigh, she turned to face him.

“Miss Soran.”

“Ugh.”

But she had to immediately lower her head.

He was unfairly handsome.

She’d only seen him in his shabby state before, but now, dressed up like that, she couldn’t keep her wits.

It was hard to believe this obvious realization had come so slowly.

Why had he seemed ugly at first?

Then after he cut his hair, she started to notice a bit.

Then those feelings deepened…

…And now, even looking at his face was hard.

It wasn’t just the realization that was the issue.

With clean clothes, neatly combed hair, and a shaved beard, of course he looked even more handsome.

But the difference was stark.

Han Seojin, who always dressed like a beggar, now looked incredibly refined in young master attire.

…And this man had thrown himself into ruining her marriage for her sake.

He’d been jealous, angry, and annoyed that she was getting married.

How grateful she was for that.

Dang Soran tried to calm herself by thinking of that Han Seojin.

No need to rush.

He’d come running at the mere mention of a way to shake off Jegal Yong, hadn’t he?

“So? What’s the plan to shake off Jegal Yong?”

“Why so impatient, Young Master?”

“…”

“Shall we have a drink first? I’m curious what you talked about with the Clan Leader.”

Dang Soran opened the prepared bottle without giving him a choice.

Pop!

Han Seojin looked utterly bewildered.

“Why the sudden drink after calling me here?”

“Why not? It brings back memories. Feels nice.”

“What memories…”

“…Do you remember?”

The fragrant aroma of the wine filled the room, and Han Seojin seemed to recall it too.

The Yeo-ahong they’d drunk here in the past.

The wine opened when a woman marries.

The first man she’d shared it with was Han Seojin, and now the man drinking it again was him.

Maybe it was all fate.

“Have a drink, Young Master.”

“You did everything to ruin my marriage, so why bring out the wedding wine now?”

“It was supposed to be drunk at this chance anyway, but you made it so I couldn’t. Young Master, we’ve talked so much before—aren’t you hungry?”

She then brought out the simple snacks she’d prepared.

A bit cold, but still edible.

Han Seojin frowned but couldn’t tear his eyes from the food.

It was something Dang Soran had realized on the journey to Zhongjing—Han Seojin couldn’t easily refuse food.

“And I know you’ve worked hard for me, but I’ve never thanked you properly. It’s my sincerity… Eat a little while we talk.”

“…”

Seeing Han Seojin’s conflict, Dang Soran smiled inwardly.

“Worried it’s poisoned? You’re too cautious sometimes.”

“Not cautious… Sigh.”

Unable to resist the food’s temptation, Han Seojin sat down.

Dang Soran was about to sit opposite him but glanced at the empty spot beside him.

It didn’t take long to decide.

Her heart raced, but she sat right next to him like a courtesan.

“What’s with you today, really?”

Han Seojin’s confusion only grew at her odd behavior.

His flustered look was oddly endearing, so Dang Soran played innocent.

“What do you mean?”

Pour.

She filled his glass with Yeo-ahong.

She picked up food with chopsticks and held it to his mouth.

“Here, ahh~”

“…”

“It’s a sign of sincerity. Can’t you play along?”

“…”

At the word “play,” Han Seojin relented and ate it.

A heat rose near Dang Soran’s heart.

If this was the paired life her father wanted to teach her, maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Even if it was all sacrifice.

Feeding him like this every time might seem tedious from afar.

But doing it herself, Dang Soran was getting hooked on the fun of feeding him.

Luckily, the food suited his taste—his eyebrow twitched.

With no excuse left to refuse, he downed the drink like a man.

“…”

Dang Soran watched him swallow with sticky eyes.

When Han Seojin drank this wine before, it hadn’t felt like this.

…Now, watching him swallow felt strangely erotic.

Han Seojin drinking the wine that symbolized her—his breath quickened.

Dang Soran then covered her odd intentions with casual talk.

As the conversation lengthened, Han Seojin’s guard slowly lowered.

Laughter began to bloom softly, along with a gentle atmosphere.

They talked openly like friends of ten years.

It was the feeling from that month-long journey to Zhongjing.

Dang Soran had approached him with intent, but time flew by unnoticed.

Fun.

That was certain.

“I can feed myself now.”

“No. If I don’t do it this way, I’ll feel bad. Ahh~”

She kept feeding him.

Dang Soran didn’t use her own chopsticks.

Just the same pair: once to Han Seojin’s mouth.

Then to her own, filling it with food.

Somehow, the food tasted better.

They’d shared porridge with grit before; no need to fuss here.

She was grateful to Cheongwol for showing her this joy.

But they couldn’t keep this up forever.

Dang Soran knew time was running short.

She’d called Jegal Yong; he’d come to this room.

She needed to prepare before then.

“Young Master Seojin. Mind if I go upstairs for a bit?”

Dang Soran’s chambers were two stories.

Han Seojin looked puzzled but didn’t stop her.

“Do what you want.”

Suppressing her racing heart, she slowly headed upstairs.

Should she?

It was the right thing.

She didn’t know when she’d changed like this, but she couldn’t stop.

“…Hoo… Hoo…”

Dang Soran took deep breaths on the second floor, then slowly undressed.

She changed into the thin outfit she’d prepared.

****

‘Young Master. Could you come upstairs for a moment?’

I’d been straining to hear outside sounds when Dang Soran called from above.

“Why?”

No answer came.

Why had she been ignoring me all evening?

“Why!”

I asked again, but still no reply.

I could tell this was part of Dang Soran’s prank.

Yet, considering her sincerity with the food and wine, it was hard to brush her off coldly.

I downed another glass of Yeo-ahong and headed upstairs.

Thud… Thud… Thud…

The stairs creaked.

In the quiet, the sound felt louder.

The noise faded, turning stealthier.

The deep night already set the mood.

Candlelight flickered here and there, casting shadows.

“…Huh?”

Reaching the second floor, I spotted something familiar.

Part of the luggage that should have been on my donkey was here in Dang Soran’s second floor.

“…Why is this…”

And it wasn’t just any luggage.

…The bag with the SM gear was here.

I knew the mood was veering strangely.

Last time here, I’d spanked Dang Soran’s butt raw.

Remembering her sobbing then, my lust stirred.

“…Miss Soran?”

I’d come upstairs, but Dang Soran was nowhere.

Her voice had been clear just moments ago, now gone.

I quietly knelt on one knee and opened the bag.

Everything was there. All of it.

What the hell is this, really?

As I lifted my head, accepting it.

Swish…

Slender arms wrapped around my neck.

Pale, cool, delicate arms.

‘…Young Master.’

A whisper, barely audible.

Laced with even more allure.

As if announcing it was Dang Soran, a voice full of unimaginable sensuality.

“…Let’s play.”

She said, hugging my neck.

For the first time, it felt like SM not for heart demon relief, but SM itself.

Maybe an illusion, but it seemed like an invitation to satisfy lust together.

My expression slowly hardened.

The blunt temptation shook me.

Pfft, Dang Soran quietly laughed and pressed her lips to my ear.

Her voice clung, nipping at my ear as it whispered.

“…When I give you the chance, do me. Play with me as you please.”

Chills ran from my ear down my neck.

“What’s gotten into you? What scheme now…”

“No scheme. It’s not like that.”

With that, Dang Soran slid around to my front, still holding my neck.

Her outfit filled my eyes.

“…What do you think?”

…A courtesan’s outfit.

The one from long ago, when I first arrived at the capital and visited Yunmeng Tower.

Not overly revealing, but the fabric was thin.

It draped like feathers, revealing every curve of her skin.

Dang Soran’s upper chest showed its shape too.

“…Isn’t it funny? The beggar Young Master dressed like a noble son, and I, the Tang Clan’s eldest daughter, in courtesan clothes?”

“…”

She kept provocatively poking at my desires.

I gritted my teeth to hide it, but Dang Soran smiled like a little devil, as if she’d seen the emotion in my eyes.

“Young Master, why hold back? It’s your chance to do whatever you want with me, the one you like so much?”

“…Don’t delude yourself. I’ve never—”

“Hmm, if you’re going to deny it.”

Dang Soran then pulled something from her bosom.

As her hand went in, her chest briefly showed.

Dang Soran’s movement paused.

And I immediately realized my mistake.

She said.

“…My eyes are up here.”

I knew I’d stared at her chest too long.

I averted my gaze, but she just smiled more.

What came from her bosom was a dog collar.

As I hid my fluster, she said.

“I found this in the luggage.”

“Why is my luggage here?”

“I borrowed it for the play.”

“Who gave you permi—”

“—Are you going to punish me now?”

Her eyes held faint expectation as she said it.

If getting angry was what she wanted, she was a true brat.

Brats sense attention through anger.

The more you rage, the happier they get.

And the punishment after? They savor it masochistically.

The more I saw, the more it seemed like Dang Soran’s true nature.

When I didn’t answer, Dang Soran held up the collar.

“You don’t even raise dogs, Young Master.”

“…”

“Too small for the donkey’s neck, so I figured it out.”

Swish…

Dang Soran slowly brought the collar to her neck.

“…This is how you use it, right?”

My patience hit bottom.

I needed fresh air.

The air here was too charged.

The atmosphere had turned thick and sticky before I knew it.

More than anything, I felt Cheongwol’s presence.

‘Next time we play, call me. And…’

Those words were stuck in my head, unremovable.

Hadn’t Cheongwol and I avoided eye contact at the Tang Clan already?

Thinking about it, she probably knew I was here…

“I’m not here to play. I’m leaving.”

I stood, leaving Dang Soran.

Surprisingly, she just watched me go meekly.

But the moment I looked down at her sitting there, it stirred something in me.

A fragile, cute woman dressed as a courtesan for me, holding up a collar, begging to be leashed.

If that didn’t shake you, you’d be a monk. Even a monk would waver.

But I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away.

At that moment, Dang Soran spoke.

“Young Master, I have one thing to apologize for.”

“Huh?”

Bang bang bang!

Then, a knock from downstairs.

I flinched.

Cheongwol…?

‘Miss Soran. It’s me.’

But fortunately, it was Jegal Yong’s voice.

No, fortunate? Why was Jegal Yong here?

I looked at Dang Soran.

“I told you from the start, right? I have a plan to push Jegal Yong away.”

“…”

“Hehe, were you excited? It was a scheme after all. Even you wouldn’t think I’d dress as a courtesan just for you.”

…Something felt off.

But even so…

“…Have you lost your mind?”

I blurted it out.

Pfft, Dang Soran seemed even more delighted at my reaction.

“What if Jegal Yong catches you like this…!”

“You’re worried?”

“That’s not…!”

It’s my worry, my worry!

If word spread that I mishandled a woman like Dang Soran, what would happen to me?!

Plus, Jegal Yong likes Dang Soran.

If he sees me like this, what’s to stop him from killing me?

Even a coward’s still a martial artist…

But Dang Soran was relaxed.

Bang bang bang!

‘Miss?’

Even with the knocks echoing, she stayed calm.

Relaxed, or pretending?

She stood, slowly holding the collar.

“Show him, Young Master.”

“Huh?”

“Show him how close we are… how twisted. It’ll shock Jegal Yong the coward into running. Shock therapy.”

It might work, but why gamble like that…!

Torn, I told her.

“I’m not doing it.”

“Then I’ll end up married to Jegal Yong.”

“Ugh!”

My face twisted.

Emboldened, Dang Soran whispered pitifully.

“…Young Master, should I marry Jegal Yong? Will you watch that coward take me?”

Bang bang bang!

‘Miss, I’m coming in?’

Then, the door creaked open downstairs.

Dang Soran stared only at me, as if she hadn’t heard.

“Who even knows who’s the coward now…”

In the end, I could only grit my teeth.

Snap!!

I snatched the collar, muttering unwittingly.

“…Fuck.”

Dang Soran bit her lip lewdly.

“…Hah, I love when you curse like that.”

This damn masochist.

You think I’ll dance to your tune?

I whispered to her.

“…You really need some proper punishment.”