“Gahhh!”
I slammed my head against the table.
Of course, not too hard.
One day had already passed out of the two we’d agreed on.
All this time, I’d been frantically brainstorming plays to do with Dang Soran.
Plenty of ideas came to mind.
But whether I could actually pull them off was another matter entirely.
How had things spiraled this far?
Why was I the one doing SM play with Dang Soran?
I sat in the basement, inspecting the tools one by one.
...There really wasn’t anything usable.
Everything was way too heavy for a beginner like Dang Soran.
But if I went too light, she’d complain it was all for show, like we weren’t even doing anything.
This was all Cheongwol’s fault.
The more anxious I got, the greater my anger toward her grew.
How was a total newbie like me supposed to handle two of them at once?
It was hopeless. I was going insane.
I should’ve asked for a few more days instead of just two.
“Haa...”
Even so, I kept racking my brain steadily.
I sat quietly in the basement, rummaging through my thoughts.
Lately, I’d been working on two books at the same time.
One was about SM knowledge.
Whenever something came to mind, I jotted it down to make sure I wouldn’t forget about SM.
I hadn’t given it a title.
The other was about this world, the Blood Path.
I was roughly noting down future events.
...No title for that one either.
Both were proving helpful to me in their own way.
It had been ten years since I fell into this world.
As I wrote things down bit by bit, forgotten information started resurfacing vividly.
And right now, I was using those memories to think about Dang Soran’s role.
She was... a crucial figure.
An indispensable presence in the Great War between Righteousness and Evil.
Someone who couldn’t afford to break here.
“Haa...”
I let out another sigh.
A heart demon.
Just like with Cheongwol, I had to start from there.
I’d offered her comfort based on the social pressures she faced, and I needed to do the same for Dang Soran.
SM play wouldn’t help with a heart demon.
But abandoning it entirely would cost me my head.
No matter what, I had to weave in the knowledge I possessed and melt it into the play.
What had brought on Dang Soran’s heart demon?
Social pressure, like with her?
But that overprotective dad of hers had never forced anything on her.
If anything, she’d put pressure on herself.
“...”
From what I remembered, Dang Soran had been... incredibly humble.
She kept talking about her own shortcomings, saying she wasn’t as good a person as people thought...
...But aside from that, nothing specific...
“...Haa.”
In the original story, Cheongwol at least let slip verbally why she’d broken.
...Dang Soran had overcome her heart demon, so it was hard to get a read on it.
My sighs grew deeper.
...Maybe it was time to borrow the uncles’ power and make a run for it.
...Damn it! But if I actually ran, Dang Soran would fall apart for real!
“...”
To sum up Dang Soran...
Self-sacrificing like the eldest daughter should be... strong sense of responsibility... good at suppressing emotions... exemplary... humble... kind... but a heart demon... and she’s blackmailing me...
...Kind, yet insists she isn’t... and suffers because of it...
“...Hm?”
...Was I seeing a way through?
****
Late at night.
The streets were deserted.
Cheongwol cautiously placed her hand on the Leather Room’s door.
A faint candlelight leaked through the crude plank walls.
Her heart pounded loudly.
Over the past two days, she hadn’t slept properly.
She kept suffering from inexplicable irritation.
Meditation wouldn’t come, food wouldn’t go down, and she couldn’t even train right.
...It couldn’t be helped.
Cheongwol told herself.
If she hadn’t done that, Dang Soran never would’ve backed down.
Even so, Cheongwol didn’t want Dang Soran getting close to Han Seojin.
Why?
“...”
...Because Dang Soran wasn’t a very nice person.
That’s what Cheongwol wanted to believe. That had to be the reason.
It was also because she believed her friend Han Seojin would feel uncomfortable with someone like that nearby.
Besides, hadn’t Han Seojin said he disliked martial artists?
She and Han Seojin thought the same.
They should push Dang Soran away.
So all she had to do was get through tonight.
As promised, Han Seojin would give Dang Soran deep humiliation and drive her away.
At first, Cheongwol had tried to stop Dang Soran.
No way could Dang Soran endure that kind of humiliation and shame.
So it was self-inflicted.
She’d have no right to complain later, even if she regretted it.
“...”
...And since they were playing together, Cheongwol’s resolve was fiercer than usual.
She vowed to obey Han Seojin even more today.
To show who the prettier, more obedient girl was...
“...Am I really insane...?”
Cheongwol thought that as she pushed the door open.
“...You’re here.”
Inside, Dang Soran sat demurely.
It felt strange.
That she and Dang Soran had come to the shopkeeper for this play.
Even though it was to resolve a heart demon, it still felt like something naughty they shouldn’t be doing.
Dang Soran, still unaware of the play, spoke up.
“But did we really have to meet at night? I got an earful sneaking out.”
Cheongwol rolled her eyes.
“...The shopkeeper...”
Dang Soran stood and said,
“...Said to come down to the basement once you’re ready.”
****
Dang Soran followed Cheongwol down to the basement, her heart fluttering a bit.
She closed the basement door herself.
A thrilling sense of doing something forbidden washed over her.
If her father found out she’d snuck out at night to meet a man, it’d be a disaster.
She could already picture him raging.
But she had no choice.
Part of her was skeptical.
She’d seen through Cheongwol that it could resolve a heart demon...
But she didn’t fully believe it would completely lift hers.
She was just betting on the possibility.
That alone made it worthwhile.
The pressure she wanted to shake off was that intense.
Dang Soran could describe herself this way.
A person without her own standards.
Someone who only found value in others’ values.
She had no world of her own.
An endless pit of greed in her chest swallowed everything.
Sometimes identity confusion hit her. Sometimes asserting herself felt impossible.
She’d get depressed, lethargic. That’s why she’d holed up in her room.
If she ever lost self-control and sought to fill her deficient world with all that, how ugly could she become? Did the world know?
She might even take pleasure in the pained faces of those she robbed.
The gap between her current ugly self and the self she wanted to be tormented her.
...And yet, for someone like her.
Dang Soran let out a wry chuckle.
...She wasn’t even getting scolded.
The Tang Clan of Sichuan gave her everything.
Wasn’t she rumored to be the clan’s precious jewel?
Dang Soran was gradually losing sight of what was right.
She clung desperately to her thread-thin conscience.
“...Huh?”
The basement below was nothing like she’d imagined.
Faint candlelight illuminated a space overflowing with torture devices.
Ropes. Whips. Handcuffs. Gags.
The violent scene stole her breath.
“...Wol-ah, this place...”
Dang Soran cautiously called to Cheongwol, but Cheongwol walked silently up to Han Seojin, who stood frozen like a different person.
As if it were perfectly normal.
Was this shabby man from a few days ago really Han Seojin? He stood with hands behind his back, quietly awaiting them.
...The atmosphere was off.
Cheongwol seemed strangely compliant, and Han Seojin oppressively domineering.
Dang Soran’s eyes darted around.
For someone raised delicately in the Tang Clan of Sichuan, this raw vibe was utterly alien.
“...Wol-ah.”
Dang Soran froze one step from the bottom.
She could only call to Cheongwol, as if begging for help.
But Cheongwol ignored her completely, eyes fixed on Han Seojin like his voice was all that mattered.
Han Seojin’s head turned toward her.
The moment she saw his eyes flickering in the darkness, Dang Soran involuntarily frowned.
“...Young Master, what is—”
“—If you’re coming, come.”
He spoke in a changed tone.
“...If you’re leaving, leave.”
“...”
Dang Soran was speechless.
Shocked by his change, flustered by his rudeness, overwhelmed by the mood.
She opened her mouth to argue, but no words came.
He was right.
If she didn’t like it, she could just go.
But she couldn’t leave.
The chilling aura of the space.
Cheongwol’s unnatural submissiveness. And the man she’d tried to hide...
Curiosity and stimulation kept rooting her in place.
Dang Soran finally descended the last step.
To avoid being cowed, she straightened her shoulders and approached Han Seojin.
“...”
Up close, the size difference was stark.
Dang Soran was the shortest of the three, then Cheongwol slightly taller, and Han Seojin a full handspan above.
She felt oddly intimidated.
She still didn’t understand the situation.
She’d expected something like learning to control qi or taking a spirit pill to resolve the heart demon.
...What was this torture chamber? Why was Cheongwol staring at Han Seojin without flinching?
“Before we start... let’s set one rule.”
Han Seojin said.
Dang Soran finally complained at his rude speech.
“...Young Master, at least mind your manners—”
“—I said leave if you don’t like it.”
“...”
Dang Soran shut her mouth again.
Han Seojin continued.
“As I said, leave if you don’t want to. I’m not forcing anything. You came here because you wanted to, Dang Soran. And I clearly said I didn’t want to. Right?”
“...”
Dang Soran nodded shallowly.
“You want this, right?”
She nodded again. It wasn’t wrong yet.
“So the rule is this. Unless you want to leave... respond to every order I give from now on with ‘Good.’”
“...Pardon?”
Han Seojin shook his head curtly.
“‘Pardon?’ Not that...”
“...Good.”
Cheongwol cut in from the side.
Dang Soran doubted her ears.
...Cheongwol?
The lofty flower who shunned men... obeying a man so meekly?
The Cheongwol beside her wasn’t the one she knew.
Not the one she’d bonded with over sword talk.
Just a stranger woman.
“...Pretty.”
Han Seojin praised her, and Cheongwol bashfully lowered her gaze.
While Dang Soran was stunned by the scene...
“...Dang Soran.”
The Leather Room’s beggar-like owner called her name familiarly again.
...A novel feeling. Who could treat her so casually?
No one called her Dang Soran except her parents and elders.
A commoner addressing her so freely for the first time.
“Your response?”
He pressed, presenting a choice.
Leave or obey.
For the goal of resolving her heart demon... she finally spoke.
“...Good...”
A faint humiliation seeped into her chest.
“Pretty.”
Han Seojin praised.
Even that felt strangely off.
****
Cheongwol scanned the basement.
A chair she hadn’t seen before sat in the center.
Beside it was a large tub of water... steam rising gently, like it had been warmed.
“...”
Was he planning to do to her what he’d done the first day?
Pour water over her and make her feel shame?
...If so, Cheongwol wanted to stop him.
She didn’t know how she’d endured it, but Dang Soran might not.
...Of course, she was the one who’d told him to humiliate her.
But could a noble clan’s daughter like Dang Soran bear such shame...?
Cheongwol couldn’t even tell what she wanted.
She wished for Han Seojin to humiliate Dang Soran, yet dreaded the situation.
A tangle of emotions churned inside her now.
Dang Soran stepping into this basement was displeasing in itself.
Just her presence felt like something was being stolen.
Cheongwol had already grown attached to this space.
Where she’d bared her heart and shed tears.
Where she’d shared intimate acts with Han Seojin.
Where she’d shown her skin and been called pretty.
A private world sharing secrets with just him.
And now Dang Soran had intruded.
Cheongwol wanted this over quickly.
Before the intruder disrupted things, back to how it was.
She looked at Han Seojin.
But his gaze was fixed entirely on Dang Soran.
“Let’s start.”
Han Seojin opened his mouth.
“Dang Soran, sit in that chair over there.”
“...”
Dang Soran moved silently, pouting at his rude tone.
Then Han Seojin grabbed her arm.
Dang Soran startled and shook off his hand.
“...Young Master, what—”
“—You didn’t respond.”
He cut in firmly.
It was the forceful demeanor Cheongwol longed for, but for some reason, it didn’t sit right now.
“...”
“Forgot the rule already?”
Dang Soran hesitated, then whispered as she sat.
“...Good.”
Han Seojin said, seemingly satisfied.
“Yeah, you can do it.”
Cheongwol watched, sensing her turn was next.
Her eyes unconsciously swept the room again.
What would the next order be?
No chairs left if it was sitting...
She hated Dang Soran being here... but her heart raced too.
The play she’d waited so long for.
What submission today?
A spark of rivalry ignited.
If it was too humiliating, she couldn’t, but...
...At least, she’d do better than Dang Soran.
Han Seojin’s eyes settled on her.
Cheongwol didn’t look away.
“...Wol-ah.”
The familiar nickname after so long.
Cheongwol’s chest tightened.
When he called her, it felt like the burdens on her shoulders lifted.
A sense of closeness returned.
She answered.
“...Yeah.”
He whispered.
“...You’ve only caused me trouble lately, haven’t you?”
“...Yeah?”
“I told you not to come, but you showed up and our relationship got exposed... I didn’t even open my mouth, but you insisted on bringing in the experience...”
“Th-that was...”
“Time for punishment, right?”
Han Seojin straightened and ordered.
“...Go over there, kneel, and face the wall.”
“......Huh?”