Martial Arts Masochist

To someone who doesn’t do SM, a dog collar looks like a dog collar, but to someone who does SM, it looks like a sexual toy.

Between Dang Soran and me, the meaning of that switch had changed long ago.

A tool that had melted into the secret indulgences we shared.

That switch rolled over with a clatter and touched the back of my hand.

Tok.

All I had to do was stretch out my hand, and I could reach it.

A tool that awakened my instinctive inclinations.

“…”

“…”

I froze in place.

Alcohol dulled my thoughts.

Why the hell was this here?

Was it the switch originally used to punish her?

Even if it was, Dang Soran had been raised like a precious jewel.

Hadn’t she already told me as much?

‘No one! Not even Father… not the elders…!! No one disciplines me like this… Who do you think you are to try and correct me!’

Besides, even if it was Dang Soran’s switch, why would the one being hit have it?

It should be in the hands of the disciplinarian. In the hands of the Poison King, for instance.

As I stood there rigid, staring only at the switch, Dang Soran quietly approached my side.

She crouched down beside me without a word.

I looked at her.

She didn’t avoid my gaze.

Instead, she whispered in a shy voice.

“…You’ve caught me… haven’t you…?”

My heart pounded fiercely.

Dang Soran’s ears were flushed red.

“Truth is… truth is, Young Master…”

“…”

She leaned in, whispering into my ear.

Her breath moistened it.

“…Ever since that day, I’ve been a little strange.”

The violent fact that my actions had changed one person.

Dang Soran knelt down and carefully removed her cloth socks.

I could only watch her bizarre, provocative actions without response.

“Can you… see?”

She soon showed me the sole of her foot.

I gritted my teeth. Blood rushed to my head.

Faint crimson lines were etched across the sole of her foot.

A foot that looked astonishingly pale and soft.

Discipline marks carved into that untouched snow, defiling it.

The contrast excited me. It drove my inclinations mad.

“…Who…”

“I… did it myself. Thinking of you, Young Master.”

“…Me?”

“Yes. You… whispering to you, I tormented myself like this.”

I studied Dang Soran.

Now that I looked, she was quick on the uptake.

She already seemed to know this wasn’t just for resolving my heart demon.

She seemed to know it was laced with my personal sexual tastes.

She seemed to have figured out I was a man who enjoyed tormenting women.

And she was showing me this, knowing that.

Since I was frozen, she provoked me.

“…Yap.”

Suddenly, she pressed her sole against my thigh.

And giggled like an innocent child.

Impulse swept over me.

What reaction would she have if I tormented her this time?

I turned my head away. I couldn’t keep looking at her.

Cheongwol’s warning came back to me.

‘Only with me.’

Even without Cheongwol, I wanted the same.

Of course, Cheongwol and I weren’t an SM couple.

But I still didn’t want to do it with just anyone.

I poured myself a cup of yeoga hong from the table and downed it.

“Hoo.”

Calming my excitement.

“Is this why you invited me here?”

“…Yes?”

“I won’t do it, Miss. That day was a mistake, and we both know it.”

“…”

“I came here to put an end to what happened that day. Starting something new now would defeat the purpose.”

“…Young Master.”

I tried to flatter my way out.

“And what reason would there be for me to do this? There’s no one as noble as you, Miss.”

“Yes?”

“Why would I pick up a switch for someone like you, who’s already so diligent?”

The protagonist’s key ally, Dang Soran—why would I discipline her?

She’d do fine on her own if I just left her be—why would I lay a hand on her?

I was afraid of influencing her any further.

Couldn’t we just end our connection here, as promised…?

You’re a murim person.

No. I need to pull away. She wants it, I don’t.

I was the one who needed to run.

I stood up from my seat.

Dang Soran stayed still.

“…The meal was delicious. Thank you. I’ll be going now.”

I moved to flee.

“Um…”

Then, Dang Soran’s voice rang out.

Determined to escape this spiderweb, I ignored it and kept walking.

I placed my hand on the door.

Rattle!

But it wouldn’t open.

“Huh?”

Rattle! Rattle!

I pushed a couple times, but no luck.

In that moment, her voice rang out again.

“…Um.”

Slowly, like a confession.

“…I’m a worse bitch than you think?”

****

Dang Soran had gotten everything she’d ever wanted in life.

No exceptions.

If she wanted it, she could have it.

Later, when she started coveting others’ things, she held back of her own will.

She wanted it, but she didn’t desire it. How could she steal from others?

Once she crossed that line, she couldn’t imagine what kind of monster she’d become.

…But now was different.

The one man Cheongwol coveted.

The nun called the Thousand-Year Flower, pure and chaste—she desired him.

That man was now within her reach.

She wanted him.

She chose to take him. Having surrendered to that impulse, stopping was impossible.

She just wanted to have him first.

Even if her interest faded someday, right now, she wanted him in her grasp.

And the reason wasn’t just because of Cheongwol.

The memory of that basement still burned vividly in Dang Soran.

She hadn’t lied. She really had whipped herself afterward.

Whenever that pain throbbed in her soles, her chest felt strangely relieved for some reason.

“…I’m a worse bitch than you think?”

So she confessed honestly.

Words she’d never said to anyone.

A side she’d hidden from everyone.

There was no one she could show this ugly monster to.

Who could she show it to?

Her father, who loved her to death?

The elders who’d doted on her her whole life?

Her siblings, who looked up to her with admiration?

The citizens of the holy city who sang praises of the Tang Clan of Sichuan?

…She couldn’t show it to any of them.

Only Han Seojin.

The man Cheongwol trusted.

The man Cheongwol obsessed over.

The shabby owner of the Leather Room.

The one who’d discipline her.

“Yes?”

“I’m a worse bitch than you think, Young Master.”

“…I don’t care, just open this door—”

“—No.”

Dang Soran said it boldly.

Even smiled.

“No, Young Master.”

That day in the Leather Room basement, some realization had nearly come—then fizzled out.

Unknowingly, she’d given up under Cheongwol’s gaze.

This time was different.

No Cheongwol, and her mindset was changed.

Surely… if Han Seojin disciplined her, she’d understand something.

So she continued provoking him.

Deliberately, to get punished.

To obtain what she wanted.

****

I stared blankly at Dang Soran.

The change in her was too drastic.

I’d had a vague sense, but this blatant? First time.

That shift left me reeling.

“To be honest, Young Master, I look down on commoners a bit.”

“…”

“They haven’t done anything for me, yet they treat me like a living Buddha. It doesn’t feel bad… but it’s kinda ridiculous?”

“…You could feel that way—”

“The first time I saw you, I thought you were a beggar, you know? A bum squatting in a rundown house.”

“…”

“…I’m worse than you thought, right?”

…Insulting my Leather Room? Do you know how hard I worked to build it?

That actually stung a little.

But I knew it was provocation.

“Oh. You’re mad I insulted the Leather Room. Right, Young Master?”

“…”

Dang Soran glanced at the switch, then back at me.

Forcing a choice on me.

When had I fallen into this situation?

I realized now it was her trap, but I couldn’t pinpoint when it started.

I just wanted out.

It felt different from Cheongwol.

With Dang Soran, I just didn’t want to get entangled.

No telling how the future might change if I did.

“Not long ago, some Beggars’ Sect beggars visited the Tang Clan? To eat. Honestly, they stank, so I held my breath around them. What do you think of that?”

Probably bullshit.

In the distant future, on blood-soaked battlefields, no one had a stronger stomach than her.

A woman who’d tested all sorts of poisons wouldn’t be sensitive to beggars’ smells.

Just words to provoke me.

“…Miss.”

But I couldn’t help my perception of her shifting.

“…Hurry up and show your true nature. You weren’t like this in the basement.”

This is my true nature, you bitch.

During SM play, I do it on purpose…

Realizing talk was pointless, I kept rattling the door.

Rattle! Rattle!!

Something had to give eventually.

If not, I’d shoulder-ram it open.

“You’re really just going?”

Rattle! Rattle!

“…Ahh.”

Rattle! Rattle!

She whispered.

“I’ll have to tell Wol everything that happened tonight.”

Freeze.

Her final words made my heart drop.

Instinct screamed it was a line I couldn’t cross.

I hadn’t done anything.

Still, if Cheongwol found out I’d been alone in a room with Dang Soran, sharing drinks…

…For some reason, I felt I’d be far from safe.

She’d even come to the brothel looking for me.

But sharing drinks with her rival?

…Thinking about it, why the hell did I crawl into this place?

No, how could I have known she’d weaponize it?

Dang Soran was the crazy one.

I turned to look at her.

Her constant provocations.

Now I got it—she had no intention of letting me go.

Reason unknown, but she wanted SM play.

…How could a beggar like me escape the grasp of the Tang Clan’s of Sichuan sheltered jewel?

My choices had vanished long ago… and I was just realizing it.

I looked at the switch, at Dang Soran, at the feast on the table.

The moment of decision approached.

What should I do?

Smash the door and leave, bearing Dang Soran’s grudge and Cheongwol’s wrath?

…Or play with Dang Soran. Touch the protagonist’s ally again?

Mold this unpredictable woman?

“…Hoo.”

“Coward. Young Master’s a coward.”

I bit my lip.

…Was Dang Soran a masochist to begin with?

She’d whipped her own soles, so possible.

I didn’t know.

But her endless provocations were wearing down my patience.

“Idiot. Just letting Cheongwol walk all over you without realizing. Ignoring the one looking out for you.”

…If I just decided to do SM, I could shatter that arrogant expression.

“Even after all this, you’re really just gonna hold back?”

“…Miss, enough—”

“—Gonna cut your dick off.”

Hearing that from a Central Plains woman snapped something in my head.

Anyone staying calm after that wasn’t a sadist.

I instantly let go of the door and spun around.

Then strode toward Dang Soran.

“Ah…”

She, sitting on the floor, flinched at my sudden movement.

Reflexively, she leaned her upper body back as I approached.

Kwak!

But I wouldn’t allow it.

“Eek!!”

I lightly gripped her hair.

Her head, pulling back, was forcibly drawn toward me.

Not unpleasantly. But humiliating enough.

The lock of her hair in my hand was softer than expected.

Gripping her bangs, her pretty forehead was exposed.

“Y-Young Master?”

Dang Soran seemed flustered by this first taste of domineering force.

It was satisfying to see her bold momentum wilt, even if scary.

Gripping her hair, I pulled her face to mine.

“…Dang Soran.”

Dang Soran’s breath caught.

I stood there holding her head, while she knelt with her hair in my grasp.

What the hell had I done?

My reason returned midway, but there was no retreating now.

The Tang Clan’s treasure.

Poison Phoenix, Dang Soran.

The protagonist’s key ally, the Demonic Cult’s nightmare.

Sichuan’s savior—in my hand.

“Yeah. If that’s what you want, I’ll punish you.”

Dang Soran, with wide rabbit eyes, tried to grab my hand holding her hair with both of hers.

“It hurts—”

I eased my grip slightly and said,

“—Don’t cry. Got it?”