No way. It couldn't be Cheongwol.
That made sense, didn't it? Her hand was held so tenderly.
She was leaning into him so naturally.
A nun of the Emei Sect. The Emei Sect's Thousand-Year Flower, abandoning the Hidden Dragon Society to be with that man?
The same woman who had declared she would become a bold heroine like Sect Leader Muwol, now acting so fragile and coquettish by a man's side?
Her heart pounded fiercely.
And with it, the soles of her feet from last night's beating throbbed in unison.
Her gray world began to rapidly gain color, centered around those two.
A woman draped in Tang Clan robes, with color blooming around Han Seojin.
If it really was Cheongwol.
...Just how special was Han Seojin for Cheongwol to go that far?
She had sensed it in the basement too, but now she realized their bond ran even deeper.
If caught, Cheongwol was done for.
If it came out that an Emei Sect nun was enjoying secret trysts with a man, the Central Plains would erupt in gossip.
...Cheongwol had to know that.
She knew the Emei Sect's reputation rested on her shoulders.
Even so, she was doing this.
Cheongwol, whose world was so firmly her own, was obsessing to this degree.
Dang Soran swallowed hard.
“...”
At that moment, Han Seojin slipped his arm behind the veiled woman's legs.
He scooped her up like a child.
“...!”
The woman behind the veil offered no protest, nestling into his arms.
Han Seojin kept apologizing to the people around as he cleared a path, and they gradually moved toward a deserted area.
Dang Soran's imagination ran wild without end.
What kind of relationship did they have? Not lovers, surely. They didn't even seem like lovers.
But something equivalent?
Or was even she calling it heart demon resolution?
Was that really Cheongwol earlier?
To touch an Emei Sect nun's body like that. Where had Han Seojin mustered such courage?
Like Cheongwol, he wouldn't be safe if their relationship was exposed.
Her soles kept throbbing.
The image of the man who had whipped her rose vividly before her eyes.
Dang Soran's heart pounded.
She, who had been so bored, suddenly found it hard to collect her thoughts amid these absurd acts.
Han Seojin. Han Seojin.
She kept repeating the name.
The man Cheongwol cherished.
Suddenly, a small voice whispered to her.
What would it feel like to steal him away?
What would it feel like to have him?
...What expression would that perfect Cheongwol make?
“-Soran!”
“Yes?”
Namgung Yeon had placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Your nose!”
“Ah.”
Dang Soran touched her nose.
A warm sensation met her fingertips.
A drop of blood had beaded there.
Looking down at the table, she saw two or three more drops already fallen.
“Are you alright? A nosebleed, and your face is flushed.”
“I'm fine. I was just... lost in thought for a moment.”
Dang Soran felt burdened by the worried gazes of the later-generation disciples watching her cautiously, so she carefully rose from her seat.
“I'll step out for some air.”
With that, she left the table.
****
Cheongwol, cradled in Han Seojin's arms, slipped her hand inside her veil.
She was covering her face.
Even the veil wasn't enough cover.
This was utterly mortifying.
“Haha! So affectionate!”
“Comfy being carried like that, young lady?”
Cheers from the crowd continued.
Her heart raced wildly from the attention.
She had said her legs were too weak to walk after all that tension and effort, so Han Seojin had picked her up.
“It's fine. You've done great so far. You're plenty pretty, Wol.”
“Ugh... ugh...”
“You worked so hard to get to this point, right? Makes me wanna kiss you.”
“D-don't... cross the line...!”
Cheongwol mustered what little strength she had to protest his sexual harassment.
Yet somehow, her words lacked any real sincerity.
The way Han Seojin was now felt worlds apart from his usual demeanor.
Timid and frail as the Leather Room's owner, but leading her like this, he was rough and manly.
She no longer knew which was his true self.
Cheongwol slowly leaned against his arm.
Her body felt immensely at ease.
Likely even more so after channeling every ounce of strength in tension.
It was an unspoken truth.
Han Seojin's embrace was comfortable.
Even him effortlessly lifting her, whom she thought fragile, made her heart flutter oddly.
“You followed my orders to the end. Pushed yourself to the brink of collapse. How could you be prettier than today? I really should give you a reward.”
“...Eut.”
And the praise returning in equal measure to her humiliating ordeal was so pleasing to hear.
Cheongwol blushed and hid her expression.
She realized now... she liked seeing Han Seojin happy because of her.
Sometimes overbearing and scary, yet so satisfied and delighted by her actions—it made Cheongwol equally relieved and joyful.
To the point of harboring unheroine-like, dependent thoughts of wanting to see him even happier.
Like the thrill of finally earning approval from a master who only ever scolded.
Han Seojin kept walking until he stopped in front of a shop.
He gently set down only her legs.
To hide the protruding leash, Cheongwol stayed rigid, sleeve tucked inside her veil.
She bit her lip on the hem to keep the sleeve from slipping.
She looked at the shop.
It was a dragon beard candy stall.
“Thank you.”
Han Seojin quickly bought one faster than anyone, handing it to Cheongwol.
Cheongwol took the dragon beard candy with her free hand—not the one with the leash—and froze in puzzlement.
Why buy a kids' snack like this...
“Up you go.”
“Eut!”
Han Seojin immediately scooped her up like a child again.
And this time, he headed toward a truly deserted spot.
“You were a good girl today, so this is your reward from me.”
“Huh?”
“Eat up, Wol. It's tasty.”
“...”
Cheongwol stared at the dragon beard candy while held in Han Seojin's arms.
A snack she'd never tried before.
Wasn't it weird for a nun to eat dragon beard candy?
“...A snack for kids—”
“-Eat it quick. I wanna see you enjoy it.”
But at Han Seojin's urging, Cheongwol cautiously obliged.
Being held in his arms greatly reduced the chance of her face being seen.
He was heading to less crowded areas anyway, so Cheongwol gradually let her guard down.
She slipped the dragon beard candy inside her veil.
It brushed lightly against the fabric, but no big issue.
She put the sugar-coated dragon beard candy in her mouth.
“...!”
“Tasty?”
“...”
Cheongwol nodded quietly.
From meat dumplings to dragon beard candy.
Everything Han Seojin gave her was delicious.
Who else would treat her like a child and buy her dragon beard candy?
Someone known as a nun and bold heroine.
Only Han Seojin.
...Even though he had no money.
Cheongwol took another bite.
Oddly, she felt a lump in her throat again.
Perhaps because he'd squeezed it out of his empty pockets.
It felt like compensation for a childhood that seemed lost.
Like solace for her, who had swung the sword endlessly since age ten.
“You did well today.”
Han Seojin kept offering sweeter praise than the candy.
“...”
His words stirred her emotions more fiercely, making it hard to even put the candy in her mouth.
“Eut...”
Instead, she let out a small whimper.
She didn't know what this heart-pounding was.
But one thing was certain.
Coming to the Holy City had been the right choice.
The final fight in the basement, the hardships chasing him.
Even the heart demon seemingly resolving—she was glad she'd come.
Cheongwol took another bite of the dragon beard candy.
Then, cautiously, she offered the precious snack in her hand to Han Seojin too.
“...”
“...”
...Han Seojin took a big bite without hesitation.
“Thanks, Wol. Our Wol is good-hearted too.”
Watching Han Seojin eat the snack her lips had touched stirred another strange feeling in Cheongwol.
The ticklish sensation was so unfamiliar that she blurted gruffly without thinking.
“Shopkeeper.”
“Yeah?”
“...Just one... request.”
“Say it.”
Cheongwol felt pathetic dredging up the past, but she couldn't bear the anxiety without voicing it now.
“...This game... only with me.”
“Huh?”
His smiles and praise might go to someone else—thinking that made her chest strangely tight.
All the humiliation and kindness he gave... she wanted it all for herself.
“...Even if someone else asks... no. Got it...?”
“...”
“P-people like... Dang Soran... especially.”
Han Seojin smirked.
“Won't do it.”
He promised.
“Like I said, I hate murim folk.”
****
Even away from the crowd, Dang Soran's heart still beat noisily.
The scene she'd witnessed kept replaying.
A possible secret meeting with Cheongwol.
She could confirm it back at the Tang Clan.
Just ask if Cheongwol had borrowed a robe.
And Han Seojin's image grew even more vivid.
Perhaps because she'd seen him earlier, his overbearing demeanor resurfaced, refusing to fade.
Her heart demon writhed.
Han Seojin.
The name that kept forcibly shaking her boring daily life.
She coveted that name.
No. Stop this.
Cheongwol has her reasons too.
Don't covet the man she's chosen.
He's not that desirable anyway. This isn't right.
...But it wasn't the 'man' she craved.
It was Han Seojin she wanted.
She still couldn't forget the pain he'd inflicted.
Not because of Cheongwol.
Dang Soran herself desired it.
Her own gray world was so exhausting too.
...No, can't do it.
Can't let Father see this.
How could she face her siblings?
What would the elders who cherished her think?
Even calling it heart demon resolution, the method was too perverse.
Don't.
Do it.
Don't.
Do it.
Don't.
Do.
Don't!
Do!
Tormented by endless conflict, she finally sank to the ground right there.
Chaotic voices filled her head. The noise was unbearable.
“Ugh! So... noisy...!”
Cheongwol's cherished one. The being even the possessionless nun coveted, who had broken Poison Phoenix herself.
But a fellow sufferer from heart demon too.
She was no different.
In this bland world, Han Seojin's punishment had been so intense for her.
What to do? What choice to make?
Hundreds of voices mingled, whispering their own advice in her ears.
Groaning in agony, she made her choice.
A click, like closing a book.
“...Haa... haa...”
And with it, the tormenting noises vanished completely.
Peace arrived.
“...Haa.”
Dang Soran let out a very long sigh.
It felt so much better having decided.
She slowly closed her eyes.
Yeah.
And whispered softly.
...I'll take him.
A choice to steal what was another's, one she'd never considered before.
But now, her greed was too strong to hold back.