Martial Arts Masochist

“How dare you… Don’t just call me ‘Cheongwol.’ We’re not that close.”

After the confrontation with Mukryong had ended, Cheongwol was now alone in her room.

She knelt on the floor in a straight-backed posture, silently listening to her own breathing as she replayed that moment in her mind.

“…Ha.”

What a ridiculous sight.

That was what she thought as she looked at herself.

Perhaps Mukryong had been right about everything.

Maybe she should have shown proper respect to the commoners who had come to see her, just as he said.

Maybe it was she who had twisted things into something ugly.

But in that moment, she truly hadn’t been able to hold back.

Something had welled up from the depths of her heart.

She had even heard that her outburst might cause the Tang Clan gathering to end prematurely.

She felt like she was nothing but a nuisance.

From the start, this was the first time she had ever exploded in anger in front of others.

She was already dreading what the aftermath would bring.

Would the Sect Leader’s stern reprimand come down?

Would mockery from her fellow disciples follow?

Would she face pointing fingers on every street she walked?

‘…But do I really need to care about any of that?’

A small voice whispered inside Cheongwol.

Who cared how others felt about her?

It had been a long time since her love for the sect had felt the same.

She could admit the thrill she had felt when she stepped on that sniveling Mukryong just moments ago.

What right did weaklings have to judge anyone? To judge anything.

If they wanted to speak up, they should grow strong first.

Creatures without the power to enforce their will had no business judging others.

How much had Cheongwol herself suffered and strived to gain this strength?

How much pain had she endured, how many tears had she swallowed alone?

Were all those efforts to be brushed aside, forcing her to live ignored?

Was she supposed to smile even at the rudeness of commoners?

Even beasts followed the logic of power.

Those who couldn’t understand that deserved to be bitten—

—Knock knock knock.

“Hik!”

Cheongwol snapped out of her impure thoughts, her body trembling.

Whether from tensing her muscles or holding her breath, her respiration was ragged.

Cold sweat began to trickle slowly down her body.

The Emei Sect uniform she had changed into separately was starting to soak through.

—Swish. Swipe.

Cheongwol wiped the sweat from her forehead with her sleeve and opened the door.

“…Who is it?”

It was a servant of the Tang Clan.

Even without the woman saying it, Cheongwol knew she had come because of what happened earlier that day.

It was only natural, after causing such a scene at an event hosted by the Tang Clan of Sichuan.

“Miss, Miss Cheongwol. Th-there’s someone here who… wishes to see you.”

Was it Dang Soran? Mukryong?

…Or the Poison King?

No matter who it was, Cheongwol had no desire to meet them right now.

“…Sorry, but I’m not in the mood.”

“Ah… Should I tell them to go back?”

Strangely, the maid’s attitude was different from what she expected.

The Poison King or Dang Soran wouldn’t give up so easily.

Then, suddenly, she thought of Han Seojin.

‘Go back for today. When you’re heading back to Mount Emei, I’ll let you know. You’ll still be staying at the Tang Clan, right?’

Cheongwol froze for a moment before asking belatedly.

“…Who was it?”

Perhaps because of the earlier incident, the maid visibly tensed as she replied.

“Th-that… some beggar—”

“—Please show me the way.”

Cheongwol said immediately.

She couldn’t be sure, but if someone had come looking for her as expected, there was one person who came to mind.

And sure enough, at the place the servant led her to stood the beggar who was always with Han Seojin.

He clasped his hands in greeting and spoke.

“…We meet again in Chengdu, Miss. You might not remember me, but I’m Gwak Du, the one who was rude to you on Mount Emei—”

Cheongwol had no patience left to listen.

“—I know. And sorry, but why have you come to see me…”

The beggar who introduced himself as Gwak Du swallowed hard before speaking.

As if confessing something he didn’t want to say.

“Uh… Do you know Seojin? Seojin wanted to see you, so…”

At those words, Cheongwol had to admit her heart began pounding fiercely.

What could be the reason for summoning her?

Why was he looking for her?

“Where?”

After hearing the beggar’s final answer, Cheongwol asked no more.

There was no need to hear more, nor any desire to.

One answer was enough.

Suppressing her rising questions and pent-up emotions, Cheongwol changed her clothes.

When going to meet Han Seojin, she couldn’t go as the Emei Sect’s Thousand-Year Flower.

She donned the veil that hid her true self once more and headed to the place where Han Seojin had called her.

The outskirts of Chengdu.

At the far end where a river slowly wound around the capital, someone stood on a bridge.

The moment Cheongwol spotted him from afar, an inexplicable emotion surged up, and she steadied her breath.

Two days.

This was the first time seeing him since the brothel.

Cheongwol composed her complicated feelings and quietly stood beside Han Seojin.

“…You… called for me.”

There was none of the boldness she had shown against Mukryong.

Her voice was smaller and more cautious than usual.

Cheongwol couldn’t understand it.

Why did she shrink like this?

Why did she always become like this in front of this man?

She was the one who had spoken first, but Han Seojin didn’t even twitch.

Cheongwol stood silently beside him as well.

She felt awkwardly self-conscious for no reason.

The days when their emotions had clashed and gone awry had already happened twice.

Pride ached when she tried to take a step closer, and her chest tightened when she thought of pulling away.

Caught between the two, she had kept suffering.

“…I heard. About what happened earlier today.”

Cheongwol’s brow furrowed slightly.

She had thought he would talk about the rift between them, but suddenly it was about Mukryong.

Her expectations shattered, and discomfort twisted inside her.

Cheongwol couldn’t hold back a scoff.

“…What? Are you here to lecture me like the Sect Leader or my master?”

But even at her sarcasm, Han Seojin calmly countered.

“Are you having a hard time?”

That single, blunt question prodded an unexpected spot.

Cheongwol’s insides churned for a moment.

…It was always like this.

He was the only one who ever said such things to her, which made it hit even harder.

Or perhaps, because she had once bared her true feelings to him… his insight stirred even greater waves.

But in this moment, her lofty pride held her back from leaning into that warmth.

Or maybe her childish heart denied it.

That one sentence made her grievances multiply several times over.

He was the only one she had ever opened her heart to.

And he was only realizing it this late?

Of all people, he should have noticed sooner.

Hadn’t she already shown signs?

It was too late.

Far too late.

Cheongwol spat out her highly strung feelings.

“…You disappear whenever I’m struggling, but the moment I roughed up Mukryong a bit, you suddenly care? Are you more worried about him than me?”

Cheongwol didn’t want to use such harsh words.

But the suffocating frustration that had built up for so long drove her to it.

How long had it been since her Heart Demon treatment without relief?

As Cheongwol finished speaking, Seojin quietly looked at her.

After a long silence, he spoke calmly.

“…Reconcile. With Mukryong. And with the rest of the later-generation experts.”

Cheongwol’s breath caught instantly.

Her lips trembled on their own.

She almost suspected he cared more about Dang Soran than her.

They had spent more time together—why prioritize others?

Before her rising anger could burst out, Han Seojin continued first.

“—It’s for your sake.”

Her fury subsided for a moment.

“…For… me?”

“It’s a gathering of the later-generation experts who will lead the future. Turning your back on them won’t do you any good.”

Cheongwol scowled.

It was just like something the Sect Leader would say.

Logic and calculation, a precise grasp of reality.

A suggestion that completely excluded emotions.

She knew the advice was right, but she hated it.

That made her hate it even more.

Cheongwol no longer wanted to lose herself.

She had had enough of crawling around, minding others’ eyes.

Cheongwol drew in a sharp breath.

“…Are you saying I should always wear a mask? Live like this forever?”

Her voice trembled.

“Then what about me? What about my feelings? Why do I have to suffer like this alone—”

“—You.”

Han Seojin calmly cut her off.

And whispered with conviction.

“…You, I will take responsibility for.”

Cheongwol’s breath stopped.

“…Huh?”

Her blurred vision froze toward his face.

Her eyes slowly relaxed.

Considering their fights over the past few days, it was utterly unforeseeable.

But Han Seojin continued leisurely.

“Did you think Heart Demon treatment is only possible on Mount Emei?”

Cheongwol’s heart began to race.

Her chest tingled in response.

It hit harder because it was unexpected.

“Go reconcile. Even if you have to wear the mask. Then… we’ll start that play here in Chengdu too.”

Here?

Like in that basement?

Embarrassment and fear crashed over her at once.

“You won’t even think of something like a Heart Demon.”

Her breath hitched, her vision spun dizzily.

Unknowingly, Cheongwol bowed her head.

But Han Seojin brought his face close to her veil and whispered into her ear.

“More intensely than ever before…”