Early evening.
Far off in the distance, Mount Emei came into view.
The end of a long journey. Cheongwol let out a deep sigh.
Relief washed over her now that she was home, but at the same time, a heavy pressure began to weigh her down.
Back to the Emei Sect once more.
A place where she would be crushed under the weight of her senior brothers, her master, the sect leader, her juniors, and the demands of her sect.
A place where she had to follow strict rules and endure endless austerities.
To catch her breath, she paused by a nearby stream.
She calmed the internal energy she'd expended while running and settled her dantian.
Then she lightly wiped away the sweat and cleaned her hands.
"...Ow."
A sharp pain stung her throat as she moistened it.
...Why did her neck hurt? Had she scraped it somewhere?
Cheongwol peered at her reflection in the clear flowing stream.
She tugged at her collar, revealing a red mark.
It looked almost like a faint crimson choker wrapped around her neck.
"...Ah."
Only then did Cheongwol remember what she had momentarily forgotten.
The traces of her walk with Han Seojin lingered on her pure body.
"..."
The contrast stirred a sense of taboo within her.
Who could possibly claim ownership of this body?
It was a mark she should despise with every fiber of her being.
She had to regret giving in to madness that day.
What would the sect leader say if she saw it? Her senior brothers?
What would they think if they knew that she, the Emei Sect's Thousand-Year Flower, had willingly surrendered ownership of her body to the unremarkable loner owner of the Leather Room?
What would they say if they learned she had rolled in such filthy mud and defiled herself?
...And yet, Cheongwol continued to feel that tingling sensation.
She knew she shouldn't, but... it seemed to whisper something to her.
That she was connected to Han Seojin.
That even though their bodies were now apart, he was still by her side.
And that presence brought her a profound sense of comfort.
It felt like there was someone beside her who would say it was okay, no matter how she looked.
Her heart suddenly felt at ease.
Returning to the Emei Sect didn't seem so daunting anymore.
Cheongwol fidgeted with her hands.
The hand she had held with Han Seojin tingled faintly.
‘This game... it's only with me, right?’
‘I told you, I hate martial artists.’
Cheongwol let out a soft laugh without realizing it.
She didn't know when her smiles had become so frequent.
They were connected, each thinking only of the other.
Friends weren't such a big deal... but to her, who had always been alone, it was far from unwelcome.
Was the presence of a friend this powerful?
It was a relief that Han Seojin was a loner too.
Cheongwol pulled a small tool from her pocket.
A leather-cutting shoe knife she had bought from a merchant on the way home.
The silver she'd received from Dang Soran was too much to spend carelessly.
Cheongwol had only used what she needed for travel expenses to bring back to her sect.
But she couldn't resist this small indulgence the moment she saw the shoe knife.
What would he say if she gave it to Han Seojin as a gift?
She had bought it on impulse for him.
It was her first time buying a gift for someone else.
"..."
Cheongwol gazed at the shoe knife for a long while, imagining Han Seojin's smiling face, then entered Mount Emei with a somewhat lighter heart.
****
Her vision flashed white.
A thrilling pain that made her forget the boiling excitement for a moment.
It was utterly different from when he'd grabbed her by the hair.
This really hurt.
"Ah...! It hurts!!"
Dang Soran twisted her body at the felt pain.
It was an instinctive reaction.
She bent her legs to cover her buttocks and flailed to lift her upper body.
But her soles couldn't cover her ample rear, and her upper body remained pinned by Han Seojin.
A stinging sensation continued from her precious buttocks.
A part she'd never given to anyone.
And Han Seojin had struck it mercilessly.
"That's just one."
But Han Seojin was nonchalant.
"You can't cry after just one."
It was far too indifferent for a reaction to striking her most treasured spot.
Words she'd always heard from her father and mother echoed in her mind.
‘Never let anyone touch your buttocks carelessly. Understand, Soran?’
‘Yes!’
‘If some fool dares, tell me first. Even if it's a woman.’
‘Yes! I understand!’
Dang Soran regretted her choice after just one strike.
Why had she wished for this?
And yet, her pride wouldn't let her back down.
She had schemed so meticulously to corner Han Seojin.
Made the hidden him reveal himself somehow.
Coordinated with the servants to drag him to her room.
Provoked him into anger, and now quit after one spank?
That thought sparked defiance instead.
She suppressed the pain and fear, and taunted him.
It was the pride of the Tang Clan of Sichuan—she couldn't break under hardship.
"Just... just this much, Young Master?"
Han Seojin's grip tightened on her belt.
"Hyaang!"
His punishment followed immediately.
Violence without warning.
Dang Soran's body shuddered again.
The moan escaping her lips felt foreign.
She who always commanded the servants with bold yet restrained poise was now whimpering like she was coquettish.
"Still need more, huh?"
She whispered to herself like a murmur.
"It hurts... it hurts..."
"This is the punishment you wanted so badly. Not 'it hurts,' but 'thank you.'"
"Ugh... ugh..."
Dang Soran gritted her teeth.
He wasn't wrong.
She had wanted this for two reasons.
The main one... resolving her heart demon.
She had desired punishment voluntarily as a form of atonement.
She craved that faint sense of liberation she'd felt when striking her own soles.
The other... plunder.
She had volunteered to claim Han Seojin for herself.
But that fleeting desire seemed to shatter after one strike.
She no longer wanted Han Seojin.
She was too ugly.
Even knowing she shouldn't, how much had she looked down on the common folk deep down?
...How much had she scorned Han Seojin?
And knowing he was the man Cheongwol was interested in, she still tried to steal him.
This was just an extension of that act.
Her remaining conscience kept pricking at her.
She was still ugly.
She didn't want him anymore now.
What would Cheongwol think if she saw this?
What expression would that great hope of the righteous faction make?
If she truly stole Han Seojin, would that make her greater?
...That nauseating, thrilling pleasure kept surging.
...Your man is watching me, Wol-ah.
Dang Soran thought amid her repulsive self-loathing.
He's punishing me.
"Come on, what do you say?"
At Han Seojin's prodding, Dang Soran clenched her teeth.
...Say thank you?
Even when her soles were struck, it wasn't common sense.
Who thanks someone for hitting them?
On the contrary, shouldn't Han Seojin be grateful for being allowed to touch her body?
Wasn't it fortune enough for a beggar from the outskirts of Mount Emei to lay hands on nobility like her?
The unjust punishment made impure thoughts bubble up wildly inside her.
She never imagined she'd harbor such wicked ideas before this painful beating.
Han Seojin continued.
"Dang Soran. If you don't speak, the punishment won't end. I'll stay here forever. Even if your father finds out... I don't care anymore. Endure if you can."
"Ugh!"
Her father seeing her like this?
Pathetically sprawled on the bed, she glanced up at Han Seojin sidelong.
His expression was hidden.
But the leather belt in his hand was visible.
...Scary.
Fear blossomed within her.
And with it, her view of Han Seojin changed.
The man she'd scorned was no longer there.
Submitting to the strong was the law of nature.
Her resistance faded, and swallowing her shame, she whispered.
"...Th...ank..."
"What?"
"Tha...nk... ugh... you..."
Her father would clutch his neck and collapse if he saw this.
His precious daughter getting spanked and thanking him.
She couldn't understand why she was swept up in such irrational behavior.
"Good girl."
"Hnggh!!"
Dang Soran bit the blanket.
Overwhelmed by the pain, she rubbed her thighs together again.
Pathetic and powerless.
She felt like dying of shame.
The humiliation tormented her as much as the pain.
Was this really what Cheongwol had done?
How far had that pure nun allowed?
"How many is it now? You tell me."
"Ugh... Th-three... the third one..."
"How many more do you need?"
She could crush this worthless man in one go with her internal energy.
Why wasn't she doing it?
"Dang Soran. No answer?"
Amid the pain, his voice felt oddly sensual, and Dang Soran submitted.
"...Four more. Four... more..."
Her own voice spilling from her lips sounded lascivious too.
Why did the whole situation feel so sexual?
Nothing of the sort was happening.
No clothes removed, no hands held, no lips touched.
Not even a single word of affection exchanged, yet the air was thick with sexual tension.
"Right. Four more, then?"
Han Seojin's voice had grown stickier too.
Dang Soran could sense the difference.
The weak man who'd tried to flee was gone.
Only a male disciplining an insolent female remained.
Her head flashed white again.
"Heeup...! Haaah...!"
It hurt so much.
Had her buttocks split open?
Was blood flowing?
Utterly different from when he'd grabbed her hair earlier.
This was true discipline.
Three more after this to end.
...Something whispered inside her.
‘...Stop.’
It was meaningless.
Dang Soran, who had only whimpered through the pain, finally spoke.
"Y-Young Master..."
Her earlier bravado was gone.
At this rate, her buttocks really would tear.
"Why?"
"It... hurts. Pl-please, a little gentler..."
Her heart pounded.
She wanted to stop, but what slipped out was a plea to endure just a bit more.
Why?
For the chance to resolve her heart demon?
No, not that.
Pitiful whispers and her discarded pride flowed from her lips.
"...It's punishment. Of course it hurts."
But he just snorted.