The moment I saw Cheongwol's tears, I froze in my awkward stance, still holding the water bucket.
“...Hic... Hic... Hngh...”
My mind went completely blank, only to be flooded with chaotic reality a second later.
Fuck, what do I do now!
Did I ever imagine I'd make one of the Demonic Cult's Seven Heavens, the Life-Pursuing Ghost Cheongwol, cry?
No, I hadn't even considered that this woman could cry in the first place.
That aloof, lofty woman who killed and crushed supporting characters without shedding a drop of blood or tears.
...She was crying just because I splashed some warm water on her body?
...Well, sure, I had mocked her a bit.
I paused for a moment, thinking it over.
“...”
...Huh?
Did I go too far?
In hindsight, yeah, it felt like I went way too far...?
My eyes started shaking like there was an earthquake.
How do I wrap this up...?
My original plan was to unconditionally lose this bet.
Like I'd actually want a kiss from this crazy bitch!
The instant I got a kiss from her in that inn, I'd be saying goodbye to the martial world forever.
Even now, Cheongwol was a massive rising star. A full-on celebrity.
But getting tangled in a scandal with that Cheongwol? No way I could live as a normal person.
The moment she eventually crumbled and betrayed her sect someday, I'd probably have to go into hiding too.
All I'd done was set up a little device to make her endure these commands.
Don't want a kiss? Then follow orders.
Any first-rate martial artist could stand on a tree splinter, no problem—something like that...!
I'd prepared small candles from the start, and she'd burned almost all of them.
Just five to ten more minutes and they'd be out, but she couldn't hold on...!!
After losing the bet, my plan was to praise her for enduring under pressure, then say I'd completely forget this whole thing as per the bet.
Super clean resolution.
But this bitch crying ruined everything.
I had to stop this behavior right now.
Crawling on my knees and begging pathetically would be a bad move too.
If I said 'sorry,' she'd just go, 'Yeah, you know you fucked up,' and come at me harder.
No apologizing. Not even if I die.
...Should I just put out that candle first?
Yeah. Extinguish it.
Then console her by saying she won...!
“Hic...! Hic...!”
At that moment, Cheongwol slipped off the tree splinter while trembling and sobbing.
Her knee hit the ground weakly.
With her arms still bound limply above her, Cheongwol shed tears of sorrow.
Bet result.
My victory.
“...Hic... Hic...”
Ah.
I'm truly fucked.
****
Ah.
Cheongwol's knee touched the ground.
...She slipped.
Her legs gave out from crying without her even realizing.
No matter how much she didn't want to believe it, her knee was pressed against the damp basement floor.
If she got back up onto the splinter, would I let it slide?
...No chance.
Through her tears, she mocked herself.
She had plenty of excuses, but only one result.
She'd lost the bet she was so confident about.
She couldn't even stay on that tiny splinter.
And with that realization, Cheongwol understood something.
Why the Sect Leader was disappointed in her.
Was it always like this?
Had she screamed for recognition of her efforts, only for the results to always be this pathetic?
No matter how much she claimed to be trying, standing on that board—if she couldn't follow even that simple command, it must have been infuriating.
Had the Sect Leader always looked at her stagnant skills with disappointment?
Thinking that way made her feel so pathetic she wanted to go mad.
She'd always comforted herself that she tried harder than anyone, but maybe that was just an excuse.
Memories of mocking her junior disciple Baekhui flashed by, making her feel even more wretched.
In the wake of relief and release came bitter self-loathing.
Unable to meet the Sect Leader's expectations.
Regressing the more she trained.
Slaughtering bandits because she couldn't handle the pressure.
Now toyed with by a man, unable to even follow an order to stand on a splinter.
Behind her, the candle still flickered silently.
Cheongwol closed her eyes amid the mix of mocking laughter and sobs.
She didn't want to face that candle.
How ridiculous must she look to Han Seojin?
A first-rate martial artist failing at such a simple command.
She could already hear his coming criticism and ridicule.
Even though he'd praised her so much before, his attitude would surely change now.
Her heart twisted strangely.
...Oddly, Cheongwol didn't like the idea of Han Seojin's attitude changing.
She'd felt repulsion at his praise, but now... she felt even greater rejection at the thought of his criticism.
The warmly speaking Han Seojin—what would he say now?
For some reason, this criticism felt like it would hurt more.
Eyes closed, arms raised, kneeling—Han Seojin approached her silently.
With each of his footsteps, Cheongwol found herself focusing intently.
Her heart raced at the footsteps of the mere Leather Room owner.
The rope binding her arms loosened.
Cheongwol collapsed weakly.
From the tears she'd shed after so long, and the pressure finally released after so long, all strength drained from her body.
Her face touched the damp floor.
Even this was unbecoming of a lofty Emei Sect disciple.
It felt like when she was a child, sobbing her heart out and collapsing in her parents' arms.
Of course, her parents weren't here now.
...The Sect Leader hadn't held her lately either.
...Truth be told, no one had been by her side.
Ah. Realizing that... she understood more about herself.
Turns out, she felt a bit lonely.
Then, Cheongwol felt unexpected sensations.
Han Seojin lifted her up and embraced her.
“...?”
Her cooling body warmed again with human heat.
Han Seojin supported her warmly, not minding his own clothes getting wet.
How long had it been since someone hugged her?
A man's embrace was a first.
Unlike the Sect Leader's, it felt broad and solid.
Cheongwol froze in confusion at the sensation.
This time, she couldn't even muster the rebellion to push him away.
Frozen by the unforeseen situation—this was the second time.
And rightly so—she'd lost the bet.
Couldn't stay on the splinter.
Failed, so why was he hugging her?
“...You did well.”
He said it in the exact same tone as before.
“Hic... Hic...”
Cheongwol was still confused.
What did she do well?
But her mouth remained gagged.
As if reading her thoughts, Han Seojin addressed her doubt.
“...You tried so hard. That's more than enough for me. You really did well, Cheongwol.”
...Huh.
Those words pierced deep into her chest.
Praise for effort, not results—it felt like the first time.
Like fire meeting oil, a fierce and sudden torrent of emotions surged.
Tears welled up foolishly again.
Her emotions felt broken.
Swept every which way by the sensations of this special situation.
It was unfamiliar and unwelcome—Cheongwol pushed Han Seojin away.
But he didn't let go.
In their struggle, their eyes met.
The candle still flickered, condemning her defeat.
As if sensing her anxiety through eye contact, Han Seojin grabbed the nearby water bucket.
He doused the candle, and darkness fell.
Perfect darkness, like closed eyes.
She couldn't see anything—and in turn, no one could see her pathetic self.
The only sensation in the darkness was Han Seojin's arms embracing her again.
Pulling her head to his shoulder.
This time, she couldn't push him away.
The embrace of parents after crying herself out.
...It felt like feeling that again.
It had been so long since someone held her.
It had been so long since it felt like someone was enduring alongside her, not just her alone.
He whispered.
“...You won. You held out so well for your first time.”
“Hic... Hngh...”
Cheongwol felt so unfamiliar with her rampaging emotions.
She hated the tears welling up.
If Baekhui or Senior Disciple Hye-yul were crying somewhere, she'd surely criticize them inwardly.
A heroine crying wasn't befitting an Emei Sect disciple.
But now...
...A space without a sliver of light.
No one to judge or watch her.
The only one present was Han Seojin... but he wasn't criticizing—he was praising her.
“...You've had it rough, haven't you?”
Han Seojin asked.
Was it about standing on the splinter, or her life as an Emei Sect disciple?
One thing was certain: she couldn't hold back anymore.
Whether from the reassurance of the darkness or the warmth of his embrace.
She no longer wanted to cling to these emotions desperately.
She let go of the reason she'd held onto until the end.
Little by little, she let her sobs grow louder.
“Hic... Hic... Hngh!”
Once released, the tears poured without limit.
In Han Seojin's arms, Cheongwol's rigid body gradually softened.
Just as with the tears, she no longer wanted to support herself.
Cheongwol relaxed and leaned on his shoulder.
Had she ever imagined yielding her body to a man like this?
She'd surely regret it with shame tomorrow, but right now, she had no choice.
“You did well. You held out great.”
For now, Han Seojin's comfort rang louder.
With her handcuffed arms gathered at her chest, she kept sobbing onto his shoulder.
She wanted to pathetically reply.
That it had been tough until now.
But fortunately, her mouth was still gagged.
Unlike before, this restraint wasn't so bad now.
Unconsciously, Cheongwol gripped Han Seojin's sleeve tightly with both hands.
And continued sobbing onto his shoulder.
“Hngh...! Hic... Hic...!”
Han Seojin gently stroked the back of her head, now limp.
The comfort from that touch felt good.
Like comforting a child, he kept whispering.
In this darkness, all she could feel was the warmth of his embrace, his soothing whispers... and peace.
“...You did well, Cheongwol. You worked hard.”
“Hngh... Hic...”
“...You worked hard.”
This went on wordlessly for a long time.
Cheongwol didn't leave his embrace during that entire span.
She had no choice. Her wrists were handcuffed.
And as she poured out tears, Cheongwol gradually understood.
Why she was doing this.
Why she'd endured that humiliation.
After shedding years of suppressed tears...
...Cheongwol drifted into gentle sleep.
****
Soft sunlight touched Cheongwol's face.
Birdsong echoed around.
Meanwhile, my legs were numb.
I had no idea how long I'd been kneeling.
Cheongwol stirred slightly, showing signs of waking...
I had my forehead pressed to the floor.
Full dogeza. Or grand jeté.
“...?”
Cheongwol noticed me, her face puzzled.
“Were you kowtowing?”
I sat up and said.
She seemed confused by my changed tone.
But of course.
I don't want to get involved with you anymore.
Let's pretend yesterday never happened.
We agreed on that... right?
To the bewilderedly staring Cheongwol, I said,
“I've removed the gag. You can speak now.”
“Ah.”
Cheongwol touched her mouth, her face flushing.
Meanwhile, I swallowed dryly and said,
“Miss Cheongwol.”
“...?”
I gave her a smile.
“I lost the bet. I'll completely forget what happened yesterday.”
The silence stretched so long that birdsong filled the space between us.
Cheongwol froze like stone, unmoving.
Sweat trickled down my back.
“...Forget?”
Cheongwol finally asked.
“Yes.”
“...Yesterday?”
“Wouldn't you prefer that too? It was an embarrassing sight if seen by others.”
“...”
Cheongwol didn't respond.
What. Why.
What's going on.
Her reaction confused and exhausted me too.
But you want this too, right?
Her pitiful crying face was still vivid.
She'd even fainted leaning on my shoulder from sobbing.
I'd hugged and stroked her with all my might.
I'd meant it as a cry for mercy... but in retrospect, that was a mistake too.
Touching an Emei Sect disciple's body? I'm insane.
Yesterday was definitely too much.
I'd trusted she was a martial artist—if she hated it, she'd break the handcuffs herself... or so I thought.
...But thinking back, she'd come to me to resolve her heart demon.
Whether SM play helped with heart demons was secondary—I'd ultimately used that heart demon weakness to blackmail her.
I'd thought it was super light play, even considered ramping it up further...
...But for Cheongwol, it was too spicy.
Like how only Koreans don't know spicy udon ramen has spice—Cheongwol had zero tolerance for that stuff.
I just thought I was fucked.
So I was flailing now to survive.
Even if she suddenly tried to kill me, I wouldn't be surprised.
“...You'll... for... get...”
Cheongwol murmured like a whisper.
I was crushed by the pressure.
“Yes! I won't do anything like this ever again.”
Never again. Just spare me.
“...Won't... do...”
Cheongwol blinked, then looked down at herself again.
Huh? Why's her face scrunching up again!
Why! What are you gonna do to me!
“...”
“...”
After that grimace, at the end of what felt like eternal silence.
She muttered to herself, barely audible.
'...Who said you could decide...?'