Martial Arts Masochist

Cheongwol’s body stiffened, refusing to move.

She knew she had to move, but strangely, her body wouldn’t obey.

The ropes binding her body came to her senses belatedly.

That vivid sensation dug into her skin.

A powerless and dangerous situation.

Yet it didn’t feel as terrifying as she thought it would.

Her heart pounded, her skin tingled… but amid it all, she found a strange comfort.

‘You’re pretty.’

Someone whispered to reassure her like this.

‘You’re pretty, Wol-ah.’

“…S-stop…”

But for some reason, Cheongwol was telling him to stop.

Was it embarrassment? Was it genuine disgust? Or was it that she rejected it but secretly loved hearing his voice praise her beauty despite her protests?

‘Your thighs are beautiful too…’

“S-st-stop…”

‘Your calves are so graceful…’

“Uh… ugh…”

‘Why does an Emei Sect nun have such a lewd body? You weren’t meant to be a nun—you should’ve been a courtesan.’

Had Han Seojin said that? Or was it her imagination?

In that moment, light flooded her vision.

Han Seojin stood before her. He had removed the blindfold.

The familiar basement flickered in the candlelight.

His face felt like she was seeing it after so long.

Through his ragged breaths, a subtle sense of relief washed over Cheongwol.

It was Han Seojin.

Then, he spoke.

‘Your nipples are cute.’

“Huh?”

Cheongwol looked down at my chest.

Bare skin, not a thread covering it.

“!!”

Cheongwol jolted awake in shock.

She blinked.

Her mouth gaped as if to scream, but no sound came out.

“Ah… ah…”

Only suppressed moans like gasps escaped her lips.

Shock, panic, and shame crashed over her.

The surroundings were dark.

Clutching her chest like a shy maiden, Cheongwol caught her breath and scanned the area.

The Emei Sect second-generation disciple quarters.

Here and there, her fellow disciples slept soundly.

“Ah…”

Cheongwol covered her face in pathetic dismay.

What kind of dream was this?

That perverted situation… that humiliating moment… why dream it again…

The damp emotions continued to torment her.

As a nun, she hated dreaming such things.

…Yet as a nun, dreaming them strangely excited her.

Cheongwol had to clutch her shameful chest for a long while.

Muttering to herself as if chanting sutras,

‘Please go down… please…’

Only after a long time could she release her hand from whatever had perked up lightly.

She had to suffer deep self-loathing for quite some time.

This dream—she’d have to take it to her grave.

A fact she could never tell anyone.

That she, an Emei Sect nun,

And one who excelled among even those nuns in cultivation, martial arts, and appearance…

Had dreamed of baring her naked body in humiliation to the Leather Room owner, that beggar-like man?

Even thinking it herself, it couldn’t get more vulgar.

Cheongwol quietly rose from her spot.

Moving silently so as not to wake her fellow disciples she didn’t particularly like, she stepped outside.

She needed some air.

Cheongwol stepped out and let out a long sigh.

…Something felt empty.

Ever since hearing that Han Seojin had left for somewhere without warning, she’d been in this state.

A vague stuffiness lingered in her chest.

Vanishing without a word.

Of course, they weren’t in a relationship obligated to converse.

…But weren’t they friends?

Had only Cheongwol thought so?

He was too alien and special an existence to her.

No one else had she opened her deep inner thoughts to as much as Han Seojin.

That’s why she didn’t know how to keep her distance from him.

Honestly, she wanted to go find him.

Ask why he left so suddenly, where he was going and for what.

It was more anger than longing.

Yet at the same time, she kept questioning herself if that’s what it really was.

Cheongwol, like Dang Soran, found clingy people tiresome too.

“…Huh?”

A sudden thought made Cheongwol mutter softly.

…Could it be Han Seojin went after Dang Soran?

…Like how he left her in the basement and only looked at Dang Soran back then.

…Maybe even now?

Squeeze…

Cheongwol winced at the heavy pain in her chest.

…No. He didn’t go after her.

The Tang Clan had left that morning, and villagers knew Han Seojin had already gone.

And thinking again, the Leather Room had been closed since the day before.

He hadn’t gone with the Tang Clan of Sichuan.

Cheongwol stopped pondering.

Yeah. What’s 30 days? Whatever Han Seojin says.

Just wait quietly.

No need to dwell on that pervert.

She had to pull herself together. What good was chasing after him for that humiliation?

If anything, it was a relief. Even if it was for resolving her heart demon, she wouldn’t have to feel that shame for at least 30 days.

“…”

Even so, Cheongwol kept mulling over that fact for some reason.

‘Ugh… sob…’

In that moment, a faint sound came from somewhere.

Like a child crying.

A cry echoing through the temple late at night.

It felt like a ghost had appeared, but to nun Cheongwol, it meant little.

Cheongwol quietly followed the sound.

In a corner of the temple, by a tree, she found Honghwa crying.

“Honghwa.”

“Hic!”

Honghwa hurriedly wiped her tears.

Cheongwol somehow knew why Honghwa was crying.

Emei Sect nuns cried easily.

Cheongwol had been through it too. Or maybe she still was.

Entering the Emei Sect after leaving her parents’ embrace.

The sudden loneliness and emptiness always lingered.

Ideally, one would share it openly with fellow disciples… but Cheongwol still found it hard. Lately, she didn’t even want to.

So she understood Honghwa’s tears more deeply.

“…Why are you crying?”

“S-Senior Sister…”

Cheongwol sat beside Honghwa and stroked her head.

Then, Honghwa sobbed as if unleashing held-back tears.

“Tell me.”

“…It’s that…”

“Yeah.”

“…That uncle…”

“Yeah?”

Uncle? Cheongwol tilted her head.

“…Uncle?”

“The, Leather Room uncle… he disappeared.”

Behind the head-down-crying Honghwa, Cheongwol’s expression subtly furrowed.

…Han Seojin? Crying like this because Han Seojin disappeared?

“Why do you care if the Leather Room owner vanished?”

“…”

Honghwa reddened her ears instead of answering.

Ah.

Only then did Cheongwol understand.

…Childhood infatuation, unique to young ones.

At that age, a kind of admiration or attachment toward an adult as an ideal figure.

It often arose toward men who evoked thoughts of a father.

In the Emei Sect, where many could fill a mother’s absence but few a father’s, even more so.

Even some senior brothers she’d grown up with had such figures in the past.

Cheongwol, raised fixated only on the sect leader, couldn’t fully relate, but Honghwa must be the same.

Around 12 years old, Honghwa.

Yet even if it was common, Cheongwol felt a slight unease.

Even if it was a child’s infatuation, there were plenty of other men to admire or respect.

…Why Han Seojin of all people?

Cheongwol said,

“I thought you hated the owner.”

“…Huh?”

“You told me he was creepy. That it was weird how he always eyed me.”

“…Ugh.”

Cheongwol teased lightly.

“Were you jealous, by any chance?”

“…”

But Honghwa couldn’t lift her face, as if struck to the core.

To smooth it over, Cheongwol said,

“Honghwa. But I’ve seen him too… He’s not worth crying over if he vanished.”

“…Huh?”

“Why bother? A pretty girl like you could fancy someone greater.”

“B-but nuns… men…”

“Does that make even harboring feelings a sin? Infatuation is the most natural human emotion. We call it asceticism because we suppress it.”

“But… that uncle’s… weird?”

Cheongwol nodded.

She explained calmly.

“Poor. No friends. Timid… even creepy, as you say?”

Honghwa covered her mouth in shock.

“S-Senior Sister speaking of someone like that… first time I’ve seen…”

“I’m human too, I have opinions. Give up on him, Honghwa.”

“…”

“Why? Even your senior sisters—my fellow disciples—all say the same. That Leather Room owner’s got nothing, lives lonely. Probably the least popular man in the village.”

Honghwa’s face darkened.

“…Still… still…”

Pitying Honghwa’s refusal to give up on Han Seojin, Cheongwol pressed on relentlessly.

“Anyway, what happened? Did something go on between you two?”

“Huh? Ah… before… w-when I got lost on the mountain… he helped me.”

“You got lost on Mount Emei?”

“It was when I was little. He helped then, and after that, always… treated me kindly…”

Cheongwol fell silent for a moment.

For some reason, a chill settled in a corner of her chest.

…Han Seojin wasn’t that kind to me.

Back then, he only had eyes for Dang Soran. Now, he left without a word.

‘…Pretty, Wol-ah. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?’

…No, that was during the game. Normally, he’s not kind.

Honghwa let out a deep sigh.

“Senior Sister. What if uncle doesn’t come back? I don’t know about other things, but if he’s leaving, I want to thank him for everything… But I always pranked him, so he’ll hate me…”

At those words, something struck Cheongwol.

“…Honghwa.”

“…”

“Should I go find the owner for you?”

“Huh?”

Until then, there’d been no real reason, so she hadn’t acted.

What did Han Seojin matter? Why seek him out?

But Honghwa wanted him.

Then Cheongwol could act without hesitation.

She had some idea where Han Seojin might have gone.

One of the beggars he’d been with had vanished too, it seemed.

Probably headed to the Beggars’ Sect Sichuan branch?

The only nearby city to head to was Chengdu anyway.

It might be wrong, but if gambling, Han Seojin likely went to Chengdu.

He’d return in 30 days.

A round trip to Chengdu fit perfectly.

Plus, Chengdu was where

the Tang Clan leader planned to gather late-generation talents for a meeting.

Hadn’t her master suggested she go? The more she thought, the more reasons piled up.

“R-really?”

“Yeah. I was heading to Chengdu anyway, so I’ll look while I’m there.”

“Really, really?”

“Yeah. Really really.”

“Senior Sister!!”

Honghwa threw herself into her arms.

Cheongwol smiled and stroked her head.

“F-find him and tell me for sure! Th-that I’m sorry for pranking him all this time. I’ll bring mountain strawberries often, so come back.”

“Yeah.”

Cheongwol answered.

Yet entirely different emotions seeped into her eyes.

Cold, heavy gaze.

An emotion rising from deep within, unnoticed even by herself.

Just thinking of going to find Han Seojin had unconsciously twisted her expression.

She whispered,

“And when I find him… for vanishing without a word to you, Honghwa…”

Trailing off, Cheongwol finally muttered lowly,

“…I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”