Martial Arts Masochist

SM is often associated with sexual acts, but it doesn’t necessarily presuppose intercourse.

People are all different.

Some might enjoy sexually tormenting a helpless partner, while others prefer being on the receiving end.

There might even be those who can’t be satisfied without physical contact.

Like me, there are people who derive deeper pleasure from emotional connection rather than bodily union.

To me, the core of SM is emotional communion.

A single act of kneeling, the sound of a whip slicing through the air, the taut tension between command and submission enveloping the entire body in sensation.

I believe the true allure of SM lies in the hierarchy of power, the structure of trust, and the solidity of the relationship.

By that standard?

For a sadist like me, brothels hold zero! Absolutely zero! interest.

What’s the point of soulless flesh mingling?

Sex without feeling is no different from SM without heart.

It’s just empty thrusting, meaningless exercise.

I flared up furiously.

“Hey, come on, Brother Joo! What do you take me for? I don’t go to places like that!”

“…Is that so?”

…But since it was a suggestion he’d made specially for me, I asked politely.

“…Are they pretty, though?”

“What?”

“…”

I gazed off at the distant mountains. Nice weather.

What kind of tree is that? Standing so lush and thick.

Anyway, this wasn’t curiosity—it was purely out of respect for Joo Hyeol’s gesture.

“No, I’ve only heard about them, never actually seen the courtesans…”

Joo Hyeol’s eyes lit up for a moment.

He draped an arm around my shoulders and said,

“Ha, you bastard… Seojin. Why do you think courtesans are famous? Even without the Beggars’ Sect or Hao Gate, news about them travels a thousand li.”

“…That good, huh?”

“They’re beings born to seduce men. How pretty are they? How soft their skin? How small their feet? Don’t get me started on their fragrance. Yeah? The moment you hold one, ah… this is why it’s good to be a man, you think. You’ve gotta know if you’re a man.”

His words were crude, but somehow they piqued my interest.

“Come on, I don’t know… Paying for it and all.”

“What’s wrong with paying?”

“It’s too hollow. An act with no emotion mixed in.”

“Why wouldn’t emotion mix in? It does.”

“…?”

“Cheap courtesans might be like you say. But high-class ones, Seojin—they comfort the man who called for them. They listen to a weary man’s stories, empathize, console him, and then offer their bodies! How can you call that hollow and belittle it?”

…Is that right?

Listening to him, it started sounding plausible.

“As the saying goes, out of sight, out of mind. But up close, hearts draw near too. A man and woman, yin and yang becoming one—how could emotions not intertwine?”

With Joo Hyeol’s explanation, my defenses gradually melted away.

“Sit face-to-face up close, talk, hands touch, breaths mingle, and that night, you might feel the greatest love of your life.”

“…”

Having lived a life far removed from brothels, curiosity bubbled up in all directions.

I’d heard plenty of men’s tawdry sex stories from Gwak Du Uncle about their brothel visits, but imagining it might actually happen to me made my heart feel all fuzzy.

“Uh… Brother Joo.”

“Yeah?”

I cleared my throat and asked as naturally as water flowing.

“Courtesans… can you spank their asses? With a switch or something.”

“…Why would you spank a courtesan’s ass with a switch?”

Joo Hyeol, who’d been all amiable, suddenly turned serious.

“Ah, no! I just heard there might be crazy guys who do that, so I wondered if the rumors were true. Right? Just some weird rumor.”

“You start trouble in a brothel, and Hao Gate guys will come charging in.”

My mind flashed with sudden embarrassment, and I said to Joo Hyeol,

“Th-that, uh, all my questions are answered. Like I said, I don’t go to places like that.”

“It’s not that you don’t go—you just haven’t been. If you’re gonna say you don’t go, shouldn’t you at least experience it once first?”

“I’m good. No money anyway.”

“I’ve got money.”

My ears perked up again.

“…You’ll cover it?”

“I don’t usually do this, but men have to look out for each other, Seojin. Time to grow up.”

I glanced at Gwak Du Uncle, who shrugged indifferently as if to say, do what you want.

The choice was fully mine.

“W-well… if we go, when would it be? Not that I’m saying we should—just curious…”

“Once we arrive in the capital, I’ll handle some business, prepare a bit… hmm, probably two days after we get there?”

“…”

Just curiosity, pure curiosity.

He kept going on like that, and now I really wanted to see for myself why everyone makes such a fuss.

Not that I’m particularly interested.

Seeing me hesitate, Joo Hyeol said impatiently,

“You think this opportunity comes easy? The capital’s brothels are so renowned, guests wait days or even nights to get in! I can grease some palms as a prominent merchant, but you…”

“…”

“Seojin. It’s not like we’re going straight for sex. Just to experience it. Go, drink the complimentary liquor, if a courtesan catches your eye, take her in. No one you like? Just drink and leave. What’s not to like?”

I stared at Joo Hyeol, glanced briefly at Uncle, then rested my chin on my knee and said,

“…Fine, let’s go then!”

Come on, he’s insisting this much. Guess I have to give in…!

****

“Thank you… Thank you so much…”

A thick bloody scent.

The metallic tang of blood wafted on the wind, circling her nostrils.

Cheongwol blinked, regaining her senses.

Around her lay the corpses of bandits strewn about, and two women sat weeping with their clothes torn.

Six, maybe seven.

Counting the dead was pointless, but she tallied them unconsciously.

It felt like she’d lose some part of her humanity if she didn’t.

“…I hope I wasn’t too late.”

It was a perfunctory greeting.

The women nodded silently, struggling to rise.

Their lips trembled, and soon they burst into the sobs they’d been holding back.

But Cheongwol stared not at their tears, but at her own bloodstained hands.

…After Mount Emei, she’d killed again.

They deserved to die.

Bandits who toyed with women and plundered the region.

Vermin like rats or cockroaches—she believed they should be crushed on sight.

Their deaths served the Central Plains.

…Yet Cheongwol couldn’t shake off the faint guilt.

Probably because the Emei Sect’s teachings were rooted deep within her.

No killing.

She’d violated that again.

Was killing truly necessary? Couldn’t she have resolved it without deaths?

Cheongwol knew the answer.

…She surely could have resolved it without killing.

Or even if killing, just made an example of a few.

But slaughtering them all? It boiled down to one simple reason: because she wanted to.

With her face veiled by muslin and no sect robes on, her identity wouldn’t be exposed… which made leaping that mental barrier all too easy.

“Y-you’re our sisters’ benefactress. C-could we ask the righteous heroine’s name…?”

“…”

Cheongwol shook her head briefly.

“…It must be hard to compose yourselves, but rise now. Lingering here does no good.”

“Wh-what about you, heroine…?”

“I’ll be on my way. Farewell.”

“W-wait!”

Cheongwol walked forward, leaving the calling women behind.

She had no desire to stay at the scene longer.

She hated how the blood scent was growing familiar.

.

.

.

Late night.

Cheongwol sat blankly by a lone fire she’d kindled.

The unrelenting metallic stench of blood.

The dying glint in the bandits’ eyes.

The sensation of bones crunching underfoot.

And in that brief moment, the strange pleasure that had welled up.

Cheongwol bit her lip.

…She’d done it again—something she shouldn’t have.

Cheongwol felt her heart demon writhing.

A darkness she’d briefly forgotten thanks to Han Seojin… but with him gone, it reignited all too easily.

Like embers, perhaps.

She’d thought them extinguished, but without Han Seojin’s water and with the wind of bandits fanning them, they blazed fiercely once more.

“…”

Cheongwol pressed hard near her chest.

It felt stifling.

…What if she truly couldn’t find Han Seojin like this?

…What if he never returned to Mount Emei?

Would she have to wrestle this discomfort her whole life?

In this vast Central Plains, finding a man with no name, status, or background was like picking up a single grain of sand from the roadside.

Cheongwol’s eyes gradually darkened.

…Thinking back, she’d underestimated him from the start.

She’d dismissed him as a lowly commoner who couldn’t go far.

No martial arts, no background—he’d surely return to his place, she’d assumed.

But people leave when they want to.

Han Seojin was the same.

And Cheongwol knew nothing of why he’d set out or where he’d gone.

It felt like delving back into that dark cave from her Emei days.

No certainties, just flailing desperately.

“…”

Cheongwol rose from her rest.

She smothered the fire with sand and stamped it out firmly.

Then, relying on moonlight, she resumed her steps.

On second thought, traveling at night might make finding people easier.

If Han Seojin was on this journey too, wouldn’t he have a fire lit somewhere?

Just chase a little more.

Follow just a bit longer.

And with that action, she felt her mind ease, if only slightly.

****

“Wow…”

We’d finally arrived in the capital. Early morning.

First time entering another city since leaving Mount Emei—my eyes felt brighter.

Air utterly different from the familiar temple mountains. Vibrant energy ventilating right through me.

The city teemed with people to the point of suffocation.

“This is the continent, huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Merchants shouted under cloth awnings, trading exotic herbs, simple tools, food, silk, liquor everywhere.

“Stop gawking, Seojin. You look like a total bumpkin.”

Gwak Du Uncle chuckled and teased me, but I had no intention of stopping.

Wine houses and inns stretched endlessly.

Towering buildings dotted here and there.

Dark now, but surely ablaze with light by night.

Just as Joo Hyeol said—a city of pleasure.

“Alright, get down. Gwak Brother, you too.”

He stopped the carriage and let us off.

I shook Joo Hyeol’s hand.

“Thanks to you, we got here comfy, brother.”

“No big deal. Was on my way anyway. Gwak Brother, it was fun.”

“Thanks to the great hero, we were all happy.”

Joo Hyeol smiled, then looked at me.

“Seojin. So, as promised…”

“…Y-yeah.”

Whoa. Weird feeling. A brothel, huh.

Not like I want to go or anything.

Really, purely because of Joo Hyeol brother—I have no choice.

I’ll just drink and leave.

“Day after tomorrow, meet here at You hour (5-7 PM).”

Joo Hyeol waved and drove off.

I mumbled watching his receding figure.

“…People really need talent, huh. Right, Uncle?”

“…”

Uncle silently watched Joo Hyeol depart too.

His face a bit stiff.

“…Uncle?”

“Yeah?”

“Why the long face?”

“Hmm. Nothing. You’re right. A man needs that kind of ability.”

Gwak Du Uncle scratched his chin, then continued.

“Right, Seojin. Now that we’re in the capital… watch out for Hao Gate.”

“That’s random. Why would I tangle with Hao Gate?”

“You pissed off that Cheongwol girl. That’s enough.”

“…Come on, that’s why I ran. Don’t worry too much.”

“…”

But Uncle’s grim expression nagged at me, so I promised belatedly.

“I’ll be careful. Just stick by you, right?”

And out came more nagging.

“How does a guy like you survive alone…?”

“What, which tune am I supposed to dance to? Stick close or do my own thing?”

“That’s why I told you to join Beggars’ Sect!”

“I’ve said a million times I hate murim folk! Beggars even more—no real skills. I prefer a life like Brother Joo’s.”

Uncle groaned, then turned.

“Fine. Let’s go find the Sichuan branch leader.”

Even same rank, hierarchies differ.

The Emei branch leader Uncle was lower than Sichuan’s.

“Where is he?”

“No idea. Probably sprawled by some roadside. After talking to him, we’ll scout a spot that could be your new base.”

****

“Hoo…”

Around noon, Cheongwol set foot in the capital.

People everywhere.

Market clamor, merchants’ shouts, carriage wheels, air thick with unknown scents and dust.

If he was here, she’d have to find Han Seojin in this throng.

It felt utterly daunting.

Cheongwol moved forward.

No one paid her any mind.

Even suspicious glances turned away indifferently soon enough.

Her attire marked her as a murim warrior, but this was the capital, famed for its throngs of them.

Too many eye-catching figures from the jianghu anyway.

One more? No one cared.

Unveil and change to Emei robes, and crowds might swarm, making movement impossible.

Especially since she’d visited multiple times, her face known.

Plus, recently crushing Poison Phoenix—her status here likely elevated.

Cheongwol didn’t want that.

If, by any chance, Han Seojin wasn’t delayed but fleeing her… revealing herself would be the worst blunder.

…Nah, probably not?

Cheongwol kept reassuring herself.

No way. Han Seojin wouldn’t flee from her.

After all, hadn’t he bared his true feelings?

Hadn’t he truly worried for her?

Tried stopping the spar… held her crying… listened to her anguish… didn’t condemn her ugly truths.

So it’d be fine.

It just felt lingeringly off. Their last moment being that way.

If only not for Dang Soran… the thought kept circling.

Where to start?

Cheongwol pondered deeper into the capital.

Assuming Han Seojin was here, how to find him?

Amid the crowds, Cheongwol spotted a group not averting their eyes from her.

Beggars’ Sect beggars.

Sensitive to news, they’d be curious about her veil.

…Ask Beggars’ Sect outright?

…Bad idea.

Hadn’t she learned from Mount Emei?

“…”

Right, come to think—Han Seojin had come here with a beggar from Emei Mountain.

Probably still together.

To find Han Seojin, focus on beggars.

But that alone wouldn’t suffice.

Any other way?

As she walked, Cheongwol realized she was hungry.

She’d rushed nonstop to the capital since yesterday.

She entered a nearby inn, quietly taking a seat.

The waiter scurried over, bowing deeply.

Cheongwol whispered,

“Grain rice and tofu…”

“…?”

Then her eyes caught the dumpling stall.

Without thinking, she asked,

“…What kind of dumplings are those?”

Cheongwol asked cautiously.

“Meat dumplings!”

Cheongwol’s brow twitched faintly. Brief hesitation.

Her body naturally recalled that day.

How delicious Han Seojin’s dumplings had been, tasted after bursting into tears and fleeing the basement.

How warm.

…That memory brought an unwitting faint smile.

Perhaps glimpsing her face through the veil, the waiter’s mouth gaped blankly.

Cheongwol composed her smile and said,

“…Three meat dumplings, please.”

“Yes, sir! Right away!”

“Oh, and…”

Cheongwol stopped the departing waiter.

She asked,

“…If I’m looking for someone, how should I go about it?”