“...!”
Soun lightly tapped the wooden sword on Cheongwol's head.
Cheongwol's body, which had been blankly frozen, trembled faintly.
Yet despite the pain, she didn't let out even a single groan.
She merely blinked a few times, silently gazing at the figure standing before her.
First Disciple, Soun.
Cheongwol's master, and the one destined to lead the Emei Sect after Muwol Satae.
Soun slowly withdrew the wooden sword and spoke.
"You're not focusing?"
Cheongwol bowed her head without a word in response.
Instead, she gingerly rubbed her head, which must have stung.
Soun swallowed a long sigh inwardly.
The worry for her disciple was always tucked close to her heart, but lately, its weight had deepened.
Just a few days ago, the clash with the Sect Leader.
And four days ago, striking her senior sister's cheek.
She had long known that Cheongwol wasn't close with her senior sisters.
She knew the circumstances well, too.
She was in too vulnerable a position to avoid drawing jealousy.
Her training speed, the precision of her martial arts, the depth of her internal energy— no one could match her.
If that were the only issue, things wouldn't have come to this.
Cheongwol was also strangely beautiful in appearance.
Even as a practicing nun, a woman's instincts couldn't be fully erased.
Nuns desired beauty too. Amid such women, Cheongwol shone effortlessly... so she couldn't help but draw resentment.
Long, firm legs, a slender and graceful waistline.
An elegant frame and perfectly balanced features.
Even eyes that were proud yet somehow forlorn.
It wasn't for nothing that she was called the Thousand-Year Flower.
People can applaud when someone possesses one outstanding talent.
But to one who holds everything alone, resentment always follows.
That was why she kept clashing with her senior sisters.
The problem was the issues stemming from this.
It might even be called Cheongwol's sole flaw.
She was clumsy with people.
Clumsy at resolving conflicts with her senior sisters, too.
Cheongwol had always been left alone due to their jealousy.
From childhood, she'd grown strong in solitude, silence, and endurance... but in turn, she'd never learned how to grow close to others.
How to laugh at jokes, how to smooth over petty quarrels. Even before light vulgar banter, she was prone to fluster.
She lacked the skill to deal with people.
Sometimes, even her master Soun was persuaded by Cheongwol's existence and forgot.
That this perfect being, like a genius sent from the heavens, had no flaws.
That this lofty Thousand-Year Flower needed no one.
That those around her were mere obstacles blocking this prodigy.
Yet when she saw Cheongwol unable to hold back her anger and bicker with the Sect Leader, strike her senior sisters, or zone out like this even in training...
...she belatedly realized the truth.
She was just human, after all.
She felt loneliness, hardship, and emotions the same as anyone.
She simply endured without voicing them, but a complex world existed within her too.
Because she was so exceptional, everyone treated her as special.
No one treated her ordinarily, or even disdainfully.
And whenever she felt this realization, it hurt too much to watch.
Cheongwol was pitiable, and she felt ashamed of herself.
She couldn't even gauge how great a burden they had placed on this child.
In truth, long ago, she had been a child who smiled brightly and sweetly.
...Lately, in her pursuit of growth, she could hardly remember the last time she'd seen that smile.
In the end, Soun set down the wooden sword in her hand and stopped scolding Cheongwol.
Cheongwol seemed a bit flustered by her master's action.
Soun gently took hold of Cheongwol's hand.
“...Ah.”
Cheongwol awkwardly pulled her hand away, as if the touch felt strange and embarrassing.
Soun couldn't blame her for it.
She simply gave an awkward smile and asked.
“...I heard about what happened with Baekhui.”
“...Ah.”
“If that's weighing on you and making it hard to focus like this—”
“—It's not.”
Cheongwol cut off Soun's words in that instant.
With a somewhat firm tone, Cheongwol said.
“...It's not that. I've already talked with Baekhui. That matter from that day is resolved.”
“...I see.”
From those brief words, Soun could sense Cheongwol's lingering aversion toward Baekhui.
She couldn't blame her for this either.
But if the issue with Baekhui was settled, another question arose in its place.
“Cheongwol. If the matter with Baekhui is behind you, is there some other worry? It's been four days now, and you haven't been able to focus...”
“...”
As if something weighed on her, Cheongwol slightly lowered her head.
Soun pressed persistently, not letting it slip.
“Tell me. I might be able to help.”
“...”
Cheongwol clearly had something on her mind, hesitating at length without outright refusing.
She bit her lower lip lightly and kept blinking.
Soun was momentarily taken aback by this unfamiliar reaction from Cheongwol.
What on earth could make her act like this?
But soon enough, Cheongwol whispered to her like a secret.
“...Master.”
“Speak.”
“...What... kind of relationship is a friend?”
****
Four days since parting from Han Seojin.
Cheongwol didn't want to admit it... but one thing was certain.
These four days couldn't possibly have dragged on so slowly.
Han Seojin had said it.
After one round of play, don't come for at least ten days.
He didn't want to get involved with a martial artist.
At the time, Cheongwol had thought ten days was nothing much... but strangely, the promised ten days kept stretching farther away.
As if time itself was conspiring to prolong itself.
Part of it was that everything felt boring after their play.
There was a vast gap between that precarious, thrilling game— like balancing on a knife's edge— and the restrained daily life of the Emei Sect.
Cheongwol sometimes wondered if it had all been a dream, given the disparity.
But the vivid sensations from that day proved otherwise.
The illicit thrill beyond the line she absolutely shouldn't cross, yet couldn't stop herself from doing. And his gentle voice acknowledging her wicked self.
Even imagining it all made goosebumps rise on her arms.
The fine hairs on the back of her neck kept standing on end.
If everyone knew this side of her, they'd brand her a pervert.
Pretending to be chaste in Emei Sect training, only to recall the basement incident and get chills.
Cheongwol found herself repulsive too, but conversely, this repulsive self was known only to her and Han Seojin.
The fact that they shared this precarious secret was strangely stimulating.
Cheongwol was gradually realizing it.
This play required trust.
Exposing one's most vulnerable moment.
Letting one's ugliest side be seen.
Without trusting the other, it was a game one couldn't dare attempt.
She had to believe Han Seojin wouldn't go blabbing about what happened in the basement.
Even here, another layer of taboo thrilled her.
Thinking her lifetime of reputation balanced precariously on his hands made her tremble with dread.
But she had handed it to him herself.
And as he continued not betraying that trust, a strange intimacy grew.
It was still vivid in her mind.
His voice as he chugged alcohol to block the beggars from entering the basement.
The way he'd staggered but endured when coming back down for her, stroking her head and praising her.
...And such a man told her not to come for ten days.
Cheongwol couldn't quite understand it, even a little.
She knew it was play.
She knew it involved some acting.
Just as she wasn't usually so obedient— despising vulgarity to an extreme— his domineering or kind sides were efforts too.
But she couldn't deny that emotions blossomed in the process.
People couldn't slice away feelings with a knife; sharing this secret bred trust and a bond...
...Did Han Seojin truly feel none of it?
His eyes that day clearly held lust.
He'd said she was the only one he did this with.
It must have shocked him as much as it did her.
Was it really so nonchalant that he could say not to come for ten days?
She was awkward with people, so she didn't grasp distances between them.
...But by her standards...
...The way he'd eased her stifled heart a bit, offered his shoulder for her tears, hidden her in trouble, kept her secret... it felt too cold to call him just some man.
That was why she'd asked her master Soun such a question.
But her master gave an answer she understood even less.
‘A friend?’
‘...’
‘Isn't it someone you enjoy being with...?’
...Had she enjoyed being with Han Seojin?
She wasn't sure. It felt more repulsive, shameful, humiliating.
‘Oh, right, you have that child. Poison Phoenix, Dang Soran. Since you compete and acknowledge her steadily, she's a friend.’
...That was a friend?
Dang Soran always picked fights with her, obsessed with catching every little mistake.
Smiling on the surface, but always ready to bare teeth and lunge.
It might look like pure rivalry to her master, but to Cheongwol, she was no different from Baekhui— suffocating.
They met often only because the Tang Clan of Sichuan was geographically close to Emei.
Perhaps reading something in Cheongwol's silence, Soun added gentle advice.
‘Cheongwol. It's not my place to meddle, but... the first step to making friends is doing things the other likes.’
As if teaching how to befriend someone.
‘Huh?’
‘Think about what the other likes and accommodate it.’
Cheongwol mulled it over and asked.
‘Master.’
‘Yes?’
‘If it's a friend... meeting often wouldn't be weird, right?’
Soun answered firmly.
‘If you both like each other's presence, why would frequent meetings be strange?’
Time passed, and now was now.
She came to her senses again, thinking of Han Seojin.
It wasn't that she missed him or longed for him. Absolutely not.
Just... wondering if he felt the emotions she did.
In this boring Emei Sect, stray thoughts kept surfacing unbidden.
He must be bored too. Of course he would be...
...You're a loner too.
Cheongwol thought unwittingly.
“...Haa.”
In the end, Cheongwol let out a sigh.
She figured spending time at the village market might settle her tangled feelings.
.
.
.
“Ah.”
But soon, amid the bustling market, Cheongwol encountered him.
Han Seojin also spotted her in the crowd and halted his steps.
“...”
“...”
Their eyes locked for a long time.
Merchants nearby praised Cheongwol, chattering away, but it barely registered.
Four days.
Just four days since facing the one who shared her secret.
The sole person who treated her ordinarily... or even disdainfully.
Cheongwol simply stared at him.
Strangely, the moment she saw him, the boredom piled deep in her chest vanished in an instant, and her heart fluttered faintly.
Was it because of the specialness of sharing a secret?
Thinking that way made it somewhat understandable.
He must feel the same.
He'd said himself it was a game only for her.
Suddenly, their agreement came to mind.
One play, then no visits for ten days.
...This wasn't her visiting. They just ran into each other at the market.
So...
Cheongwol started to raise her hand slightly—
“...Huh...?”
Han Seojin turned his head and swiftly vanished into the crowd.
Cheongwol's half-raised hand hung awkwardly frozen.
“...”
And as he ignored her like that once more.
A strange sense of humiliation surged again.
...And an impulse wriggled to chase after him persistently and demand why he'd ignored her.