Martial Arts Masochist

“…Enjoy your meal today too, Young Master.”

Dang Soran stirred the porridge vigorously.

At the same time, as he watched her, a hollow laugh escaped him before any anger could surface.

The more he looked at her, the more she seemed like a total brat.

Teasing him even in a situation like this.

Not sure what she took his laugh to mean, but Dang Soran let out a soft ‘pfft’ too.

It wasn’t because she was happy, you little punk. Get a grip.

Of course, Dang Soran hadn’t been completely unaffected by the news either.

For about three days straight, she’d knelt alone somewhere on the back mountain, set up spirit tablets, and mourned the fallen.

Whether she’d overcome her lingering unease in the process, or if it was that resilient spirit she’d shown time and again on the Blood Path rising up again.

Once the mourning was over, she’d returned to her usual self.

“How long are you going to keep tormenting me?”

“Huh? Ah… well… until I’m satisfied, I guess.”

“And when will that be?”

“No idea? Maybe if the Young Master does something cute, I’ll stop.”

“Do I look like the type who does cute things?”

“Then you’ll have to do it for life.”

“…Can’t you just stop now? I surrender.”

“No. Way.”

Wow.

I really want to smack her upside the head.

This is Dang Soran’s true face, huh.

He’d thought ignoring her would make her give up eventually, but damn, she’s persistent as hell.

When he casually picked bugs or pebbles out of his food without batting an eye, at some point she started spitting into it like that.

Then she’d stir it up and make him eat it.

And she wouldn’t leave until he’d finished every bite while she watched.

It was absurd at first, but now… no, it’s gotten pretty damn annoying.

Honestly, the irritation was building up bit by bit.

Yeah, it all comes back to leaving her hanging that day, doesn’t it?

Masochistic brat. She’s throwing a tantrum because I only played with Cheongwol.

She wants to play too, right? No point denying it—she does.

You’ve gotten a taste for it in this boring Central Plains, haven’t you?

Dang Soran soon finished boiling the porridge and grabbed the pot by the sleeve, bringing it over to him.

She pulled out a spoon and chopsticks like some waiter and offered them.

“Here. You must be hungry.”

“…”

He just stared at her for a moment before asking plainly.

“Miss.”

“Yes?”

“No interest in heading to Anhui Fortress?”

“…”

Dang Soran’s silence stretched on.

After a long pause, she asked cautiously.

“…Because of Young Master Namgung?”

Dang Soran thought he admired Namgung Yeon.

He’d lied about that, and even given her the Detoxification Immortal Root.

No need to make excuses here, so he nodded.

“Yes.”

“And all that stuff piled on the cart? That’s for her too, right?”

“Exactly.”

Dang Soran’s expression softened for a moment.

She paused as if thinking of the Namgung Family, then looked up with an infuriating grin.

“Hmph. No thanks.”

“…Miss.”

“I’m not going somewhere even the escort bureau won’t touch. Do you even know how dangerous it is around Anhui Fortress right now?”

“Ha, but Miss, your skills are more than enough…”

“Pfft. Does that make it worth the risk? Especially when the reason is… a request from someone like you? No way.”

He forced a smile to butter her up, but his gritted teeth ground with a faint creak.

Yeah, she’s right, technically.

He’s the one in a bind.

…But does this brat have to be so damn obnoxious every time?

Dang Soran didn’t let up. Like she’d seized the upper hand.

“What? Even now, you think just asking nicely will make me go ‘Yes, Young Master~’? That Dang Soran is long gone. These days, I live for the pleasure of tormenting my least favorite Young Master. For real. If you really want to satisfy me, try dressing up ridiculously and running around the village looking like an idiot. Make all the village girls scream in horror. Then maybe I’ll consider it.”

His head throbbed.

News from the Namgung Family kept pouring in every other day.

Most of the elders were dead, Namgung Yeon’s parents had passed into eternal rest, and only a handful of retainers remained.

It wouldn’t be surprising if word came that Namgung Yeon had taken her own life.

And here he was, knowing full well what it meant if Namgung Yeon crumbled, yet powerless to act—frustrating as hell.

And in the midst of that, this brat was still sulking and picking at him…

Did leaving her hanging really hurt that much?

But still, the thirsty man digs the well.

He straightened up and asked seriously.

“Miss. Really, no way?”

Only then did her playful demeanor ease a bit.

Dang Soran’s expression shifted gradually as she thought it over.

After pondering for a while, Dang Soran slipped her hand into her sleeve.

…That hairpin peeked out from the sleeve for a moment.

She fiddled with it briefly, then hardened her expression again.

“…No. I’m really mad this time.”

Right after, she spat a light spray of saliva into his pot—ptui ptui ptui—then vanished in an instant.

“Whew.”

And that final drop snapped his reason.

He stood up right there and headed to the cart loaded with his wealth.

He pulled out a thin iron bracelet, round and gleaming.

Keep feeding me spit? The Poison King really raised his daughter into a work of art.

Patience ends here. If he doesn’t act, she’ll pull this forever.

Ggrrrk…!

He crumpled the bracelet until it was just the right size.

Just big enough to fit in the mouth.

He cracked his neck.

Honestly, maybe he’s done play sessions too often lately.

Or maybe his brain’s broken too.

The hesitation about playing had definitely lightened compared to before.

On top of that, with all the recent stress piling up, he had plenty bottled up too.

Getting this treatment every meal—if you’re not pissed, you’re a Buddha.

Fear fades away.

If Namgung Yeon crumbles anyway, he dies, you die, the uncles die—everyone dies.

What’s there to fear?

Die from losing control, or die from Namgung Yeon crumbling—same difference.

Especially since this is all fallout from his own actions.

Time to relieve some stress.

You want it too, right?

****

Night had fallen.

Dang Soran couldn’t sleep and had stepped outside.

She was kneeling on the back mountain near Han Seojin’s house.

Spirit tablets were set up before her.

Tablets commemorating the Namgung Family.

She recalled what happened earlier that day.

Han Seojin pleading so earnestly.

He was annoying, sure, but Anhui Fortress being dangerous right now was fact too.

There’d probably just be corpses left if they went.

She could handle it, but Han Seojin would definitely be shocked by the sight.

No need for him to go at all.

The Murim Alliance was already heading to Anhui Fortress.

They’d handle it themselves.

So why bother?

On top of that, she had to admit to the strange jealousy bubbling up.

Leaving her aside.

Tormenting her for days, outright ignoring her.

…Namgung Yeon, whom she’d never even met, that’s who he thought of?

Over her, a woman, some guy like that?

“…Hmph.”

It stung her pride.

Even back in Zhongjing, he’d used her like that, and now again?

Knowing full well she was pissed?

No effort to soothe her, just brushing her off like she was a nuisance.

And now that he needed something, help me out?

“…Forget it.”

Dang Soran muttered to herself amid the growing frustration.

…Even so.

…Lately, she’d been feeling like this wasn’t winning anything.

How much did she need to torment Han Seojin?

Even while doing it, she knew it wasn’t right.

She couldn’t be honest about why.

She didn’t fully know her true feelings herself.

…But she knew tormenting him now wasn’t her real desire.

Tormenting was just the means.

A weird greed to provoke him, draw out any reaction.

It didn’t seem to be working well.

Hadn’t it just ended in a little back-and-forth today too?

“…”

Should she have swallowed her pride and accepted his proposal?

Head out on the journey to Anhui Fortress?

But her pride squirmed again.

Why should I? Anhui Fortress is dangerous. Even I might not protect Han Seojin…

“You’re here.”

Then, a voice shattered her reverie.

Startled, she whipped around—Han Seojin stood in the darkness.

“…Why are you here so late…”

“What about you, Miss?”

Dang Soran, still kneeling, turned back to the spirit tablets.

Her back to Han Seojin.

Facing him now might give away the turmoil she’d just been wrestling with.

So she hid it.

Then raised her thorns again.

“What do you care what I do?”

“Hmm. I don’t.”

“…”

At those words, a faint ache pricked Dang Soran’s heart.

But Han Seojin’s next words made her body go rigid.

“Then don’t mind what I do from now on.”

Snap!

“Eek!”

Something wrapped around her mouth.

Dang Soran knew the sensation.

A gag? Trying to shut her up?

“…N-no, I don’t want to play… Eek?”

She resisted, but something slipped right into her mouth.

A small, round thing made of thin iron.

Unlike a normal gag, it didn’t seal her mouth… it forced it open.

“Heh?”

She couldn’t close it.

“Ptui. Thought you had fun making me hold back all this time? Don’t wanna play?”

Han Seojin spat to the side and spoke in a domineering tone.

“So what.”