Martial Arts Masochist

Translator: penny

“…Don’t… end it like this, Workshop Leader.”

Don’t end it?

“…”

It sounded nice at first glance… but maybe because I’d just snapped out of my shock.

I felt some instinctive sense of danger.

It was like bait I shouldn’t swallow.

I observed Cheongwol.

Her body slumped limply without strength.

The despairing whisper of her voice.

The tremor in her tone.

The atmosphere enveloping her felt off somehow.

To begin with, she was no longer in a state to continue this act.

Her stamina had reached its limit from the successive events.

Besides, for a novice, dragging out bondage for too long wouldn’t do any good.

Even now, her legs were trembling from the knees down.

“…You want to keep going?”

Cheongwol hesitated for a moment, then nodded weakly.

Our situation had suddenly flipped.

Originally, she had been rejecting me while I wanted more.

Now, she wanted more, and I was the one rejecting.

“You said no earlier.”

I asked cautiously.

Cheongwol froze again for a moment, then whispered.

“…I still… don’t like it.”

I couldn’t understand.

“Then why ask to keep going?”

“…”

“…You don’t have the stamina for more.”

“…My chest still feels tight.”

“…What?”

She whispered weakly.

“…If it ends like this… I’ll still be tight-chested… and have to go back to the Emei Sect.”

“…”

Resignation tinged her voice.

Perhaps she had finally decided to let go of herself and show her honest side.

Or maybe her stamina had hit its limit, making it hard to keep up the act.

Either way, a complaint slipped out that the old her never would have voiced.

“I’ll have to pretend everything’s fine again among those sisters I hate…”

Cheongwol, leaning on my shoulder, pressed even more of her weight into me.

“Fulfill the Sect Leader and Master’s expectations… and take part in that duel…”

Finally, with her lips buried in my chest, Cheongwol whispered against my clothes.

“…And the Workshop Leader… you’ll look down on me.”

Her serious words shook me more than ever.

As a person myself, they stirred something inside me.

“…So I don’t want it to end.”

With that, I brought my hand more firmly to her blindfold.

Cheongwol resisted briefly, but the resistance of someone bound wasn’t all that fierce.

“No… don’t take it off. Ngh!”

In the end, she lifted her forehead from my shoulder.

Swish.

The blindfold came off.

And beneath it was Cheongwol’s face, her eyes damp and moist.

“…Don’t look.”

Cheongwol turned her head to hide it.

She had already shown her shameful side, but showing even a hint of tears seemed an even greater humiliation.

Grip…

Strength entered my hand.

The moment I saw that… I don’t know.

The Life-Pursuing Ghost Cheongwol was nowhere to be seen.

Just a woman standing on a terribly difficult path.

…A woman I wanted to comfort, even a little.

An existence that always had to meet the world’s expectations and keep proving it.

In this moment, perhaps that despair was what had turned her into the Life-Pursuing Ghost—I couldn’t help worrying about something beyond my station.

I mulled over these complicated feelings, then moved to untie the ropes after the blindfold.

Circling behind her back, I undid the knots one by one.

“Haa…”

As the ropes loosened, her breathing returned to normal.

The shameful posture unraveled completely.

By the time all the ropes were off, she had collapsed weakly to the floor.

She whispered.

“I said no…? I’m still—”

I hesitated, mumbling, then blurted it out.

“—Don’t do the duel.”

“…Huh?”

“You said you wanted more, right? This is the next command. Don’t do the duel.”

A duel with no good outcome.

She’d explode, and since I was right there, sparks would fly my way too.

In this world, no one hoped more fervently for that duel not to happen.

…But I’d been trying to distance myself from the murim world.

Stopping the duel might lead to bigger trouble than getting involved with just one Cheongwol.

…I don’t know.

I’ve always been a bit dumb. That’s why I’m in this mess now.

Anyway, seeing her struggle like this, knowing the future as I did, it was hard to hold back my meddling.

Her body, freed from the ropes, throbbed as if it had become one.

The sensation was painful yet carried a strange mix of relief and warmth.

A coziness slowly seeping into limbs that hadn’t had blood flowing properly for so long.

Like holding a cold hand near a fire—stinging and sore, yet oddly warm.

And in a similar sensation, Han Seojin’s voice echoed.

“You said you wanted more, right? This is the next command. Don’t do the duel.”

Cheongwol’s broken emotions surged wildly at his words.

The mask she’d forcibly worn peeled away, and the tears she’d hidden slipped through the cracks.

…It was what she’d wanted to hear.

She had desperately hoped someone would say it.

But she hadn’t believed anyone in this central plains would actually say it.

She hadn’t even dared to expect it.

And rightly so, for the duel was the purest, most noble confrontation in the murim world.

Entertainment, validation, art—a warrior’s act of proving their worth.

Refusing it meant admitting one’s inadequacy as a warrior.

In skill and heart alike.

Thus, no one shunned a duel, and those who did were mocked.

Cheongwol knew that gaze all too well, which was why she couldn’t avoid it.

Yet Han Seojin stated it clearly.

Don’t do the duel.

“Does that… even make sense?”

“…Why?”

“How can I not…? Everyone’s expecting it…!”

Her voice trembled like a child clinging desperately.

It was justification for her decision, yet really a fervent cry hoping he’d say the opposite.

Han Seojin knelt on one knee before the seated Cheongwol.

“I’m not expecting anything. You’ll lose, for sure.”

It was infuriating. Her choked voice grew louder again.

“How do you know that…!”

“Your opponent’s the Poison Phoenix. A warrior who earned the ‘Phoenix’ title at the Dragon-Phoenix Assembly. How do you expect to beat a maturing expert when you’ve just passed twenty?”

Those obvious words—finally, someone had said them first.

Cheongwol didn’t voice it, but deep down, she quietly answered.

Yeah. How could I win…?

Han Seojin added.

“Besides… someone as pathetic as you right now beating the Poison Phoenix would be a problem too.”

“…”

“Are you that great?”

The words were cold and merciless, but she appreciated that honesty.

Yeah. How great do you think I am?

Yet she didn’t back down.

She gritted her teeth and found another reason.

Repeating verbatim what Muwol Satae had said. Curious how Han Seojin would counter.

“The villagers… want to see it too…”

“You’re not a courtesan, but you’re fine playing the clown to please men?”

“That’s not it…! We live off the villagers’ aid…! It’s repayment…!”

“If they’d cut aid over one missed duel, send them packing. Having people like that around is just uncomfortable.”

Each word rippled hugely through her.

Still, Cheongwol kept countering to the end.

“But… if aid stops, my sisters will suffer…”

“—What are your sisters doing? Tell them to step up and get aid themselves. Can’t do anything without you?”

“…”

“And anyway, aren’t you on bad terms with them? You just said you hate going back to those sisters.”

Cornered, Cheongwol changed the subject.

“…The Tang Clan of Sichuan folks are all waiting—”

“—Why keep worrying about others?”

Finally, Han Seojin asked with clear irritation.

“…Huh?”

“Worry about me. You’re the one who asked to extend the game.”

“…But—”

“—Gonna keep arguing?”

“…”

“You followed my commands so far because they made sense, right?”

“…”

“Don’t do it.”

A single phrase stripped of all justification or duty.

Light because it needed no reason, yet heavier for it.

Among hundreds of reasons not to duel, the most absurd—and most comforting.

“Don’t do it, Cheongwol.”

Because it was a command, she didn’t have to duel.

Don’t think. Just obey.

Cheongwol let out a hollow laugh.

At the same time, her body shook, and a tear clung to her eye finally fell.

Starting with that, the tears poured as if held back too long.

Emotions welling from deep in her chest collapsed, spilling out endlessly.

It had been ages since her growth spurt that she’d cried.

…And already the second time in Han Seojin’s basement.

“…Ngh…”

She tried not to cry, but couldn’t hold it.

He, Han Seojin… it was like he peered into her heart, picking out exactly what she needed.

Words no one among hundreds had said… only this one man.

“…Hic… sob…”

Cheongwol fought back tears, gazing at him with trembling eyes.

An unremarkable workshop leader from beggar stock.

…Who’d have thought gazing at one human could feel so overwhelming?

A quiet shock coursed through her. The last to make her feel this was the Sect Leader who’d saved her at ten.

No, perhaps this shock was even greater.

Was it the blood rushing, heating her whole body?

Or exhaustion and tears disrupting her breath?

Her head grew hazy, vision swirling dizzily now and then.

Everything blurred.

Perhaps that’s why.

In that instant, Cheongwol harbored a terribly strange wish.

She wished he would hold her now, embrace these tears.

Cheongwol had always wanted to be a heroine.

Like the Sect Leader, proud and self-reliant, soaring alone without leaning on anyone.

Not weak, proactive, never scorned by any.

Yet now, she thought.

…She wished Han Seojin would hold her as she cried.

It was hard alone. She wanted him to support her.

Pull her head to his shoulder, stroke her hair.

Comfort her until she stopped crying.

Just like how he always praised her when she showed shameful sides.

Now that she’d shown tears, she wanted soothing.

To hide that longing, amid sobs, she asked.

“Why do you… ngh… want me not to duel…?”

He’d explained why she shouldn’t duel.

But why did he want that?

Why do you wish for it?

Why stop me before anyone else?

“…”

Han Seojin mulled as if choosing words, closed his eyes tight once, then whispered as if confessing truth.

“…Because you’re struggling.”

Cheongwol bowed her head deeply again.

She could no longer bear his gaze.

Drip…

But the tears falling to the floor endlessly told him she was crying.

Thinking back, Han Seojin had always tested her.

Scaring her, humiliating her, insulting her, pushing her… yet never once crossed the line when she seemed truly about to break.

Instead, with praise and persuasion, he’d guided her forward.

He sensed her limits—ones even she didn’t know—like a ghost.

Even now, he wasn’t continuing the game.

Her stamina at its limit was the reason.

Was it the same now?

Did he see she’d reached her limit?

Was that why he tried to stop the duel?

That thought kept the tears from stopping.

She’d thought no one watched over her… but one person had.

Someone quietly caring for her, staying on the village outskirts.

Like realizing you’re not alone on a deserted island after all—the relief of it.

“…Wipe your tears. I’ll head up. Change too.”

Han Seojin placed a cloth scrap before her and stepped away.

He didn’t stroke her hair as she’d wished.

He left, leaving her longing.

But Cheongwol knew it couldn’t be helped.

It was just a game; in this serious talk, they weren’t that close.

Still, it was fine.

She could tell this was his consideration too.

After Han Seojin left, Cheongwol clutched the cloth he’d given her tightly.

Thump… thump… thump…

Instead of wiping tears, she pressed that worthless scrap to her fiercely pounding chest.

Warmth kept flowing from it.