Chapter 171
Ye‑il stared at Jin Cheong‑ak without lifting a single finger.
What kind of trick was he trying to pull this time?
‘…But if it’s Jin Cheong‑ak.’
If anything, there was a higher chance that it wasn’t a trick. Knowing that all too well, a headache suddenly crept up on her.
Jin Cheong‑ak, who had cautiously opened his eyes, noticed Ye‑il pressing her fingers to her brow and broke into a grin.
“I’m not joking.”
Seated in his chair with his wrist fully exposed, he looked up at her. His face was so peaceful that it was hard to believe his claim that he wasn’t joking.
“Ah, of course, I don’t intend to just give it to you. Losing out and doing charity doesn’t suit my temperament. Though, well… there are always exceptions.”
For a moment, he gazed quietly into Ye‑il’s eyes.
The smile faded slightly.
“You don’t look convinced. Then shall we start by cutting off half first?”
It was Ye‑il’s hand that stopped his blade without hesitation.
“Jin Cheong‑ak.”
At her cold call, Jin Cheong‑ak pulled her hand as if he’d been waiting for it and whispered while meeting her gaze.
“Offer my hand to Choi Iryang. If the death register really is the medium, then for a gamble it’s… not exactly cheap, but still. Doesn’t matter. All I care about is getting my price.”
“Your price?”
Jin Cheong‑ak casually lifted the hand he’d left on the table and propped his chin on it. Staring straight into Ye‑il’s eyes, his expression was serious, devoid of any humor.
“You have a very bad habit. And I’m finding it hard to keep pretending I don’t see it anymore. Never betraying me again—that’s the condition for offering my hand.”
It didn’t take long for her to realize that the “betrayal” he was referring to meant approaching Choi Iryang and joining forces with him.
It was absurd.
‘No matter whose side I stand on, the goal is the Heavenly Martial Decree all the same.’
He was really willing to give up a hand just because that displeased him? It was nothing short of childish.
His reckless behavior irritated her enough to spark a flash of anger, but Ye‑il calmly rejected his claim.
“I’ve never betrayed you. We were never allies to begin with—how could there be betrayal?”
“……”
“Don’t misunderstand, Jin Cheong‑ak. I only worked with you because I was bound by a will. I’ve never felt any closeness toward you, and you’re not special to me in the slightest. Don’t assign grand meanings to my every action.”
At her cold reply, his momentum faltered—if only briefly.
“…Ha.”
A breath escaped him, somewhere between a dry laugh and a sneer.
“Ha, haha! Hahahah!”
Soon, it turned into clear, ringing laughter.
Had he finally gone mad? She had no interest in dealing with a lunatic, so she turned to leave the bedroom—but Jin Cheong‑ak grabbed her hand again.
“Don’t go. Ah… hm. Was that laugh unnecessary? If I’d at least pretended to be hurt, you might’ve felt more at ease, right? But I didn’t feel like doing that. I kind of want to act however I please now.”
She had no idea what nonsense he was rambling about. Still, there was one thing she needed to say.
“You’ve always done whatever you wanted.”
Still smiling faintly, he noticed her turning away again and cleared his throat loudly, steadying his breath.
“Please, sit here for a moment. And leave your hand with me.”
As if escorting an elder, Jin Cheong‑ak pulled Ye‑il closer and seated her in the chair beside him. Bowing his head, he focused intently on a single task.
“…What are you doing?”
“Can’t you tell, Master? I’m touching it. This disciple’s hand—your hand, I mean.”
At that, Ye‑il lowered her gaze as well. Between his two large hands, her left hand peeked out.
Now that she could see it, the sensation became clearer too—the roughness of hard calluses brushing against her palm and the back of her hand. It wasn’t a strange feeling, yet it made her inexplicably uncomfortable.
“Come to think of it, we’ve known each other for quite a long time, but this might be the first time we’ve actually held hands.”
“Stop fooling around and let go.”
“I don’t want to. Didn’t you say you couldn’t let me go either, Master?”
She was about to snap back and tell him to stop spouting nonsense, but she closed her mouth. Like Bang‑u’s eyes, Jin Cheong‑ak’s eyes were filled with an unyielding certainty.
“Don’t bother denying it. I heard everything from the head of the Ju family.”
“……”
The mouth of the Ju family…
Jin Cheong‑ak studied Ye‑il’s openly displeased face with an unreadable expression, then tightened his grip on her left hand after a long moment.
“So grant even this disloyal disciple the right to ask for a place by your side.”
Instead of answering, Ye‑il pulled her hand free.
Jin Cheong‑ak glanced down at his suddenly empty hand, then shrugged as if nothing were amiss.
“Well, if you’re still not ready. I suppose I’ll just have to keep courting you.”
Like a leech. Looking at Jin Cheong‑ak, who clung to her without shame or exhaustion, Ye‑il voiced her sincere criticism.
“I hate you.”
Jin Cheong‑ak blinked in surprise, then returned to his usual expression—no, worse, an expression so gentle it was almost infuriating—and nodded.
“Ah. Is that so?”
“Especially that attitude of yours, acting like you know me so well. That’s what I hate the most.”
“Oh. I see.”
What bothered her even more was that he actually did know her better than anyone. …Well, except—
“You’re worse than Gi‑eul.”
“…Who?”
The warmth in Jin Cheong‑ak’s eyes shattered instantly.
“Gi‑eul? Who the hell is that bastard?”
“Whether you find out who he is or not, the fact that Gi‑eul knows me best doesn’t change.”
“So where is this Gi‑eul, and what is that bastard—”
As if he’d realized the identity, Jin Cheong‑ak lowered his gaze and uttered the name of the Red Dragon Black Blade.
Arms crossed, he shot Ye‑il an arrogant look.
“Don’t be ridiculous. That bastard knows you better than I do? Better than me, who’s seen straight into your inner demon?”
“Most of the inner demon you saw was a path I crossed together with Gi‑eul.”
“…Hoo.”
He crossed one leg. Then crossed it the other way.
“I see.”
Though this wasn’t some contest to rank great achievements, Jin Cheong‑ak looked deeply wronged. He tapped his toe irritably at empty space before finally speaking through clenched frustration.
“Then from now on, make it me.”
The way he said it made it sound like he disliked the idea but had no other choice.
“I can’t steal the time that’s already passed. So from now on, cross that path with me.”
“…I’m not going to Cheonchuk.”
For a split second, Jin Cheong‑ak stiffened, then slammed his fist down on the table. His expression crumpled as he even started to stumble over his words.
“Damn it, that cursed Cheonchuk! One wrong thing said and both the Jin family head and you—”
She didn’t want to admit it, but—
That face of his was… a little satisfying to look at.
‘…’
She was usually good at brushing off such stray thoughts, but today it wasn’t easy. Had that leech latched onto her mind as well?
Sensing something different about Ye‑il’s unwavering gaze, Jin Cheong‑ak’s grumbling gradually quieted.
Then, sneaking his hand back to hers, he clasped it again. The skin where they touched was startlingly hot, as if some part of it were burning.
‘…It’s a hand that’ll disappear soon anyway.’
Wouldn’t it be fine to allow this much warmth as a last indulgence?
Ye‑il quietly watched Jin Cheong‑ak, who was making solemn vows to some unknown god that he’d never again utter even the word “Cheonchuk”… until she smacked his hand away when he brazenly tried to interlace their fingers.
“Ow.”
Clutching his hand and pretending to be pitiful, Jin Cheong‑ak groaned.
“Come on. The mood was nice—why’d you do that?”
“Draw your sword.”
At her demand, he shook his head with an exasperated look.
“You think I’ll get scared if you say it like that? Threatening me only works so many—”
Ignoring his chatter, she placed her left hand on the table.
“Cut it.”
Jin Cheong‑ak stared at her blankly and asked back,
“…What?”
“No. Forget it.”
As if he’d ever be able to cut off her wrist. Rising from her chair, Ye‑il drew her sword.
Then, after taking a long breath—
She brought the blade down toward her own left wrist.
