“That will be... a more intense game than ever before.”
Cheongwol froze at those words, as if turned to ice.
I bit my lip secretly where she couldn't see.
...Will she take the bait?
I had no idea.
But Cheongwol was obsessed with resolving her heart demon, and she believed I could help her with it.
I trusted that would be enough bait. She was a masochist to begin with, after all.
Above all, Muryong and the protagonist must not drift apart. Absolutely not!
It would be my fault if that happened!
All because of Cheongwol. So I had no choice but to persuade her.
She was a stubborn frog who wouldn't listen to anyone, but I couldn't just not try, right?
This was the only thing I could do.
“Eek.”
In that moment, Cheongwol shoved me away.
I couldn't see her face behind the veil, but her shoulders heaved up and down.
“...Are you... treating me like a fool?”
Her breathing had grown ragged before I knew it.
“...I-I wanted to resolve my heart demon... but I never said I wanted to do it all the way out here in the secular world? Do you think I'm insane...!”
Cheongwol delivered those perfectly reasonable words.
She hesitated for a long while like that, then abruptly turned and left.
Our meeting ended just that abruptly.
...I stared at Cheongwol's receding back.
...Did I screw up?
I plopped down right there and scratched my head furiously.
Even I thought it was stupid.
Desperation had made me act without thinking.
“...Haa.”
...Yeah. Who offers SM play as a negotiation tactic?
.
.
.
‘Yes. I knew you'd be worried. It was my fault. We've made up, so please don't worry too much.’
‘Oh my! That's right, that's right! You all have to get along!’
Voices drifted over from afar.
Cheongwol stood at the center of a massive crowd.
I stared at her blankly.
‘Yes. Thank you for your support. Our sect leader will be pleased as well.’
A face full of fake smiles.
A baby cradled in her arms.
She lightly pinched the baby's cheek with a smile, the picture of a heavenly woman.
The term Emei Sect's Thousand-Year Flower came to mind naturally.
She didn't look the least bit like a murderer who slaughtered people.
“...?”
Her impression was so different from when she left yesterday that I just watched the scene quietly.
Gwak Du Uncle asked from beside me.
“...What the hell did you do, Seojin?”
****
Insane bastard.
The more she learned about him, the more Han Seojin stood apart from anyone Cheongwol had ever known.
How could he even utter such a proposal?
She wanted to resolve her heart demon, but that didn't mean she wanted to do it outside Emei Mountain.
To begin with, where would they even do it?
Rent an inn room?
That seemed likely.
Han Seojin wasn't the type to flaunt things openly either.
But inn walls are thin. If anyone so much as pressed their ear to it, eavesdropping would be all too easy.
What if someone heard through a door crack or from the next room over?
It would be over.
Everything built on the name of Emei Sect's Thousand-Year Flower.
Her restraint, purity, chastity—all those reputations and dignity... would burst like bubbles in an instant.
She would crumble pathetically.
“...H-haa...”
And at that thought, an inexplicable lewd breath escaped her lips without her realizing.
Chills ran up Cheongwol's spine.
Something she absolutely must not do.
...And that was precisely the sensation it evoked.
That chilling, destructive sense of depravity that an Emei Sect nun must never feel.
Cheongwol closed her eyes and shook her head.
The more she tangled with Han Seojin, the more she uncovered her own pathetic self.
Cheongwol tried to deny it.
She wanted to resolve her heart demon. But not now.
Back on Emei Mountain, in that basement... low-intensity resolution was what she craved.
Not doing it anytime, anywhere in this secular city.
Han Seojin's proposal was utterly useless.
As if playing some game would make her get along with the other late-generation talents.
Ignore it.
Han Seojin thought too highly of himself.
...However, even setting aside his proposal, Cheongwol felt over the past few days that her own attitude had been wrong.
It wasn't even because of his pointing it out.
His shocking proposal had snapped her mind awake.
He was right, to some extent.
There was no benefit in alienating the other late-generation talents. Better to wear a mask and keep relations smooth.
Everyone would say the same.
And thinking further, she regretted snapping at the commoners in front of everyone.
That could bring harm to the Emei Sect.
A nun acting so viciously? Unacceptable.
Had anyone ever heard of a Shaolin monk striking someone?
Cheongwol accepted her own mistake.
So the next day, she sought out Muryong first.
“...For yesterday, I apologize.”
In a gathering of the seven late-generation talents excluding herself.
At her apology, they all stiffened and turned to her in unison.
Muryong, in particular, blinked repeatedly at the unexpected words.
Cheongwol continued calmly.
“Raised with the teaching to live proactively, I hate being ordered around... and showed a rash attitude. It was my fault.”
A brief silence fell.
But the eldest, Muryong, soon nodded quietly.
His expression softened a bit, and he stepped toward her with a serious face.
Then he carefully opened his mouth.
“...I apologize as well, Junior Sister. Reflecting on it, my own actions were sorely lacking.”
His tone grew polite.
He no longer called her by name. Her warning had gotten through.
Muryong extended his hand first for a shake.
“Let us get along well once more.”
Cheongwol stared at that hand.
After a short hesitation, she shook her head and said,
“I'm sorry. As an Emei Sect nun, contact with unrelated men... goes against my precepts.”
Muryong clicked his tongue.
“Ah, another mistake. Due to my poor learning, please be lenient.”
Cheongwol offered a fist salute with respect. Muryong returned it in kind.
Afterward, Cheongwol bowed her head one by one to the remaining late-generation talents.
Apologizing for her cold attitude over the past few days, she showed proper courtesy once more.
They were all surprised but soon smiled.
No one brushed off her greeting lightly. Smiles mixed with relief and joy bloomed instead.
And Muryong reflected on the cold atmosphere he had brought about, ending it with a small smile.
Meanwhile, Cheongwol, who had led this atmosphere, kept thinking inwardly.
This wasn't because she wanted to play that game.
****
Dang Soran watched Cheongwol's change.
After the basement incident, a chill had flowed between the two.
That air wasn't entirely comfortable, but strangely, it wasn't just unpleasant either.
In that gap, a faint pleasure had definitely bloomed.
Was Cheongwol angry about having Han Seojin stolen from her, even if just for a moment?
Thinking that way made Cheongwol seem somehow cute, that great Thousand-Year Flower laughable and insignificant.
Of course, it could be a delusion.
Not about Han Seojin at all—perhaps her heart demon had simply worsened.
That day, Cheongwol had only stared at the wall. Far from resolving it, the cracks in her inner self had only grown.
But if it wasn't a delusion.
If it really was because Han Seojin had eyes only for her, then Dang Soran felt like she had grasped Cheongwol's weakness.
Who would ever think they could grasp the weakness of this perfect late-generation talent, the dragon and phoenix of their era?
Who could steal something precious from this monstrous being who might become the world's greatest in the future?
She even felt a vague sense of superiority.
Dang Soran was deeply displeased with herself for indulging in such a sensation, but she couldn't reject it.
That ugly, filthy, unacceptable side was ultimately her.
To Dang Soran, for whom everything was futile, even this was necessary to keep from going mad.
Anyway, after that, Cheongwol had seemed somewhat broken.
The woman who had planned to hole up on Emei Mountain suddenly appeared on the journey wearing a veil.
She went ahead to the city, then vanished without a trace for days.
When she finally showed up, she made no effort to mingle with the other late-generation talents.
She even kicked Muryong and showed no desire for reconciliation.
Her face looked exhausted, her eyes unsteady.
Seeing that, Dang Soran had even begun to feel guilty.
Had she done that to her? Tormented by self-loathing for days.
Then, in just one day, Cheongwol appeared completely transformed.
As if the heart demon had never existed.
“Yes, I will continue to strive.”
She smiled softly before the crowd, bowing her head with grace and composure.
The people gasped in admiration once more.
‘Of course. The Thousand-Year Flower of Emei doesn't go anywhere. It was just a minor spat.’
‘As a fellow woman, I get it. Women have those moments once a month when they're sensitive, right?’
‘Look at that smile. Can't even compare to my wife.’
‘Not just beautiful beyond compare, but her skills are top-notch too. What else could the Thousand-Year Flower be but a gift from the heavens?’
Debates sprang up here and there about who was the world's greatest beauty between her and Dang Soran.
What had happened?
Why was she suddenly acting like this?
What was behind those bizarre actions of the past few days, and why had she recovered so abruptly?
Dang Soran's thoughts deepened further.
.
.
.
“Huu...”
After the social gathering ended, Dang Soran let out a long breath and returned to her room.
She shed the kindly expression she'd worn for strangers and carefully sat in a chair.
Leaning her upper body on the table, she quietly closed her eyes.
She was exhausted.
The Poison King couldn't hide his joy watching Dang Soran step outside again.
She had always holed up in her room.
But in truth, Dang Soran was forcing herself.
She thought maybe moving her body by force would fill this empty heart.
...But it didn't seem so.
The heart demon that had briefly eased after meeting Han Seojin on Emei Mountain rippled once more.
Hadn't she inwardly smiled while watching a jealous Cheongwol just recently?
She found this self so ugly and repulsive that Dang Soran struggled.
Nausea rose at her own reflection.
Why did others' things seem better?
Why couldn't she love anything?
Why didn't she have a world of her own?
Why was she so...
‘It's discipline.’
Dang Soran flinched at the sudden voice.
Just the intrusive thought made her heart pound wildly.
“...”
She simply couldn't forget that memory.
Someone whipping the Poison Phoenix Dang Soran.
It took her a long time to calm her heart.
Lately, vague regret had been swallowing Dang Soran.
No matter what Cheongwol had said that day, she should have gone to the Leather Room.
But now, it was too far to go back there.
Even returning to Emei Mountain would take at least five days.
Using lightness skill would be faster, but was it really worth it?
Who travels five days just for punishment?
Moreover, that partner... was someone Cheongwol had found first.
She was merely trying to intercept him.
What did the eldest daughter of the great Tang Clan of Sichuan lack that she'd seek out the beggar-like Leather Room owner?
...Yet her heart kept pulling her there.
“...”
This room was the only place where Dang Soran could remove her mask.
Where emotions, thoughts, and impulses she couldn't show anyone were laid bare.
In the silence, she curled up her body.
...Did she have to do it again today after all?
Her fingertips slowly moved toward her ankle.
Dang Soran gritted her teeth and slowly removed her silk robe.
Revealing her exquisite foot.
“...Ow.”
A small moan escaped her lips.
On Dang Soran's sole, vivid red welts from a switch lined up clearly.
She rose from her seat and quietly knelt on the bed.
Craining her neck back, she looked at her own sole covered in red lines.
Just like someone had done once, stroking such a sole with a cold hand back.
These weren't marks left by Han Seojin. Those had faded long ago.
These wounds were all freshly carved by her own hand.
Dang Soran carefully pulled out the switch hidden secretly under the bed.
She still hated herself.
Hated this self swayed by such ugly, lowly emotions.
This self coveting others' things and deceiving herself.
This self buried in guilt and inferiority.
Was that why? The image of Han Seojin disciplining her lingered so vividly in her memory.
‘Why is punishing a bad child a problem?’
“...Haa... haa...”
‘Because you weren't scolded when you should have been... that's why a monster grew in your heart.’
Was that true?
It was what the physician said, so it must hold some truth.
Dang Soran gripped the switch until her knuckles turned white.
Holding her breath, she swung it at her own foot.
“Mmph!”
Pain spread like ripples over her fine skin.
The sensation of the switch striking her bare foot without any qi protection was always more painful, hotter than expected.
“Haa... haa...”
“Mmph!”
But the liberation from that day didn't come.
Her heart didn't ease like when Han Seojin did it.
She only felt more disgusting and perverted for doing this to herself.
No change despite her efforts, leaving her frustration even more clogged.
“Ahk...!”
Even so, she swung the switch.
Because this was the only tantrum she could throw.
Because otherwise, the heart demon would devour her.