“...Good job, Cheongwol.”
The name, called out like a child's, made Cheongwol's heart flutter.
What the hell was this sensation that had been plaguing her since earlier?
A simple “good job” made her body stiffen as if her acupoints had been struck.
It certainly wasn't something that would make her feel good just hearing it from anyone.
So why did it feel so different in this situation?
Of course, no one but this bizarre existence named Han Seojin would ever say such a thing.
Who would praise her for allowing herself to end up like this?
He was the first to treat her so roughly.
Overwhelmed by this utterly unfamiliar emotion, Cheongwol gathered her patience once more.
If she could just endure the shame, it wasn't all that hard.
If she set aside her pride just a little, she could push forward.
“You look so pretty. Just hold out like this a bit longer.”
“Huh... Hup...”
An unknown, uncomfortable tickling writhed in her chest.
It was repulsive, yet a stimulation she couldn't push away.
“Just endure until the candle burns out. Think of it as training.”
With those words, Han Seojin moved the candle behind her back, out of her sight.
“You got it? Just a little longer. You can do it.”
Saying that, Han Seojin promptly left the basement.
“...Huh... Hup...”
Left alone, Cheongwol fell into confusion.
He just left like that?
Even so, she couldn't dare step down from the wooden block.
It wasn't just because she hated losing the bet—no, absolutely not.
.
.
.
How much time had passed?
Her wrists were starting to ache, and her calves were cramping.
Just as Han Seojin had said, it felt exactly like training.
A continuous cycle of pain and doubt.
It hurt, and she wanted to quit.
What was the point of even doing this?
And yet, she kept going.
She didn't know why.
Just as she thought about giving up, the basement door opened again.
...Thud... Thud...
He quietly descended the stairs from behind her once more.
His appearance brought an inexplicable shame to Cheongwol.
The sight of herself, meekly waiting atop the wooden block until he returned, felt strangely embarrassing.
“...You waited well?”
Han Seojin whispered, as if pinching at her.
“Good girl.”
Cheongwol squeezed her eyes shut.
She ignored the fluttering in her heart once more.
She wasn't that desperate for praise... So why did she react to every single word?
That reality was utterly humiliating.
Cheongwol endured.
This was all for resolving her heart demon, she soothed herself.
Not for hearing that bastard's praise.
She feared this deep heart demon enough to endure such acts.
Because she had harbored horrific thoughts—like wishing the Sect Leader suffering, or wanting to cut down Senior Disciple Hye-yul.
“Eut...”
Cheongwol squeezed her eyes shut again in fear and guilt.
Perhaps all of this was punishment for those violent thoughts.
As she drowned in misery, Han Seojin stepped in front of her.
“...Looks like you've gotten used to it.”
He said to her, standing steadily atop the wooden block without a waver.
“...Don't want to kiss my cheek like that?”
To his distasteful words, Cheongwol responded with silence. She couldn't retort, nor did she want to.
Who in their right mind would want to kiss his cheek?
She just had to endure, and this nonsense would end.
Like training—she just had to go through with it.
And once it was all over, Han Seojin's fate would be decided.
She just needed to bear this humiliation until then.
Cheongwol glared at him as if urging him to hurry up and fix her heart demon.
Otherwise, she didn't know what she might do.
Han Seojin vanished behind her again, as if she were boring without any reaction.
Cheongwol squeezed her eyes shut, waiting only for the candle behind her to burn out.
Then, something hot enveloped her entire body.
“Hup!!”
Her whole body heated up.
“Eup! Hup!”
Cheongwol trembled in panic but instinctively maintained her balance on the wooden block.
If she couldn't endure this moment, all the humiliation so far would become meaningless.
What was happening?
Soon, the mystery was solved.
Her entire body was soaking wet.
Water droplets trailed down her face, chest, and legs.
Han Seojin had poured warm water over her.
The martial robe, absorbing the water, weighed heavily on her body.
A weight she would have ignored normally, but now it was enough to torment her.
“Hup! Woop!!”
Cheongwol kept protesting—
—but more warm water drenched her again.
That warmth made her whole body tingle, goosebumps rising.
Moments later, Han Seojin came around to her front.
A water ladle was in his hand.
“Warm, right?”
He whispered softly, brushing her wet hair aside with his fingertips.
Cheongwol shook her head roughly to shake off his touch.
“I did it so you wouldn't get cold.”
That smile on his face was so infuriating she could hardly stand it.
Was he really going this far just because he won a single bet?
For a moment, she even thought of shredding everything and slashing him down.
But before that impulse could settle, Han Seojin whispered in a lewd voice.
“See... your body's really pretty.”
“...”
Cheongwol's mind froze at those words.
She slowly looked down at her own body.
The soaked martial robe clung completely to her skin.
Through the thin fabric, her skin tone faintly showed, and the flickering candlelight shadows accentuated her curves even more vividly.
“Hup!!! Eup!!!”
Cheongwol thrashed reflexively.
It was the first time in her life her body had been exposed so blatantly before a man.
The ropes hanging from the ceiling shook dangerously.
But without using her internal energy, she couldn't even shake off the handcuffs.
And through it all, Cheongwol instinctively kept her balance on the wooden block.
As if the Emei Sect's discipline held her in place—like a habit ingrained that she must not step beyond the line.
As she fidgeted in that state, Han Seojin's gaze slowly roamed every inch of her body.
“...Your hips are wider and more feminine than I thought? Legs are pretty long too. Slim ankles. Didn't notice with just the martial robe.”
Cheongwol's head burned as if it would explode. Rage and shame tangled, coursing through her body.
“Hup!! Hup!!!”
Finally unable to hold back, Cheongwol drew up her internal energy.
The ropes twisted with a bizarre screech like a scream.
The moment Han Seojin saw it, he quickly spoke.
“If you stop now...!”
“...Hup...! Hup...”
“I won't help you again. Ever.”
What help would she need from a dead man anyway?
Cheongwol glared at Han Seojin with eyes full of killing intent. And yet...
The fear from her unknown heart demon stopped her.
If he were gone, was there a way to resolve this heart demon?
She had to admit the sensations she'd felt today were too alien and novel.
Especially that strange feeling from his single praise—it kept brushing over her, leaving her unable to decide.
Cheongwol clenched her teeth hard enough to hurt.
The thought of betraying the Sect Leader and her senior brothers with her own hands held her back.
She didn't want to become that kind of monster.
If this impulse had been minor, she wouldn't have struggled this much.
But that ferocious emotion from the mountain earlier had been all too vivid.
Hadn't the bandits been slaughtered just recently too?
She had definitely been dominated by that impulse then as well.
She hated that self, and that's why she came here—to escape that fear.
“Eup...”
In the end, Cheongwol bowed her head.
She didn't know what else to do.
“...Hup... Eup...”
Dizzying shame welled up tears in her eyes.
Even that was enough to fluster her.
Since the age of scholarly pursuit (15), no—from even before then—she hadn't shed tears.
There had never been a moment her emotions churned like this, and she'd held back tears to meet the Sect Leader's expectations.
It hadn't even been that hard.
Yet now, tears welled up like she was a child again.
In truth, this sense of helplessness felt unfamiliar too, except from her childhood.
Her drive to become a strong heroine probably stemmed from the powerlessness when her parents were killed by bandits.
That escaped powerlessness had captured her once more.
Even as she struggled to swallow her sobs, Han Seojin's gaze kept roaming her body.
Fidgeting atop the wooden block, she finally curled one leg awkwardly, covering from between her thighs.
At least her privates—she wanted to hide them from his eyes somehow.
“...”
“...”
She shrank like a dog desperate to pee.
Her chest thrust forward from arms lifted high, legs twisted together.
“...Your thighs are too pretty. So firm. Must be from all that training.”
Han Seojin whispered teasingly once more.
Her heart pounded again. Was it rage, shame, or something else? She couldn't tell.
Cheongwol glared at Han Seojin through wet eyes.
Her anger toward him grew clearer, but the confusion he caused deepened too.
“You knew what you were getting into.”
But Han Seojin just stated it boldly.
“I mean, if you knew I could make you pee outdoors... you should've expected this much.”
“...Hup... Hup...”
“...Didn't expect it to be a bit vulgar? If not, you shouldn't have come.”
It wasn't wrong. She knew, but knowing with her head and experiencing it with her body were worlds apart.
To her, for whom men were strangers, the reality of her body exposed so nakedly was unbearably shameful.
“...You knew, so endure it. Don't be embarrassed. You're too beautiful.”
Yet Han Seojin, as if not understanding, just kept praising.
Now, she just couldn't tell anymore.
Between the subtle pleasure from words like beautiful and good girl, and the thick disgust of hearing them from him—her emotions kept swinging.
She just wished it would all end quickly. That seemed enough.
.
.
.
.
After that, Han Seojin stayed silent for a long while.
Cheongwol endured on trembling legs, hoping the candle would burn out.
But her wet body was bound to cool, and soon she began shivering—from shame or cold, she didn't know.
Suddenly, more warm water poured over her.
The moment it touched her chilled skin, she shuddered involuntarily.
“Eup! Eup... Hngh...”
She couldn't understand why his actions, so repulsive moments ago, now felt so warm and sweet.
Her body craved the warmth.
Shameful and vulgar as it was, it spread undeniable pleasure through her like soaking in a hot bath.
“Feels good, right?”
Han Seojin asked as if peering right into her.
Cheongwol shook her head side to side.
She didn't want to admit it.
She shoved the vulgar desire waiting for the next splash deep down.
The moment she recognized that desire in herself, disgust surged again, tears welling up.
Cheongwol clenched her teeth and forced the tears back.
But her body cooled once more.
Cold and desire mixed, making her shake even harder.
Whenever she wavered, Han Seojin unfailingly poured warm water.
Each time, her figure revealed itself more starkly.
Even with the martial robe, it felt like being stark naked.
Chest and waist curves, hips and thighs—every part she wanted to hide stood out vividly.
Even looking down at herself, she appeared twice as sensual as usual.
“Your butt's like a peach.”
And with every such shame, his praise followed.
Through those repeated words, Cheongwol felt like she was discovering herself.
Finally realizing how attractive she was in a man's eyes.
Good job, pretty.
Words she'd never heard at the Emei Sect poured in dizzyingly.
From shame or praise, now her heart raced as if it would burst.
The act repeated countless times.
Cheongwol could no longer be sure what emotions she felt.
Each warm cascade made her leak feeble moans unwittingly.
She could do nothing but tremble.
Clinging to her desperate need to resolve the heart demon, she stayed atop that tiny wooden block.
She had never been one to submit to anyone.
She aspired to be a strong, proud heroine like the Sect Leader, and the Sect Leader had those expectations for her.
But what was this now?
Her body toyed with by one man, and she couldn't resist—just trembling powerlessly.
It was her body, yet no longer under her control.
Complete loss of agency over herself.
Unable to decide anything.
“Hup... Huup... Hngh...”
...At the same time, no need to decide anything.
The lifelong pressure to be strong. The obsession to be more perfect than anyone.
In this moment, they weren't hers.
In this shameful state, she felt like she could let it all go.
No—perhaps she already had.
Who would call this lowly, pathetic self the Emei Sect's Cheongwol?
Who would hail this self as the beacon of the righteous sects, the Emei Sect's Thousand-Year Flower?
“Hup... Hngh...”
...And only then.
Very slightly.
Very gently.
Very faintly...
....A sense of liberation lifted its head in her chest.
The freedom and faint immorality from forbidden acts.
A small revenge against the Sect Leader who demanded purity.
‘Wol-ah. You must do better. You're the future of this Emei Sect.’
‘Senior Sister Cheongwol! I believed in you!’
‘Isn't it a given with Senior Sister Cheongwol?’
‘As expected of the righteous sects' beacon. What a talent.’
All those expectations and responsibilities crushing her melted away in this instant.
“...You look like a cheap whore, Cheongwol.”
And now, Han Seojin's insults and mockery filled the void.
A cheap whore? With the Virgin Palace Mark clearly etched on her arm proving her purity.
...Yet, those hateful, shameful words strangely eased her breathing.
As much as her pride crumbled, heavy, hot teardrops trailed down her cheeks.
She couldn't hold back anymore.
It felt like a long-held heavy burden finally lifted.
Now, she couldn't even wipe those tears. She had no choices left.
So powerless, and thus so utterly relieved.
“Hup... Hup...”
The tears poured more roughly.
Something shattered inside her. New emotions endlessly welled up through the cracks.
Whether misery, freedom, or dangerous pleasure—she feared it, unable to tell.
****
“...You look like a cheap whore, Cheongwol.”
A slightly over-the-top insult.
She seemed to be enduring too well, so it felt necessary.
And at that moment.
“Hup... Hup...”
Huh?
I'd been dutifully splashing her with water warmed to a pleasant temperature, but her reaction made me freeze.
Cheongwol started trembling.
Her breathing sounded completely different.
...No way, crying?
No, this doesn't hurt... Honestly, the water's just warm and feels good...
I peeked around to look at her...
...Fuck.
She's really crying.