Camellia 97

But once he reread the words, Seolyeong realized they might remind the reader of Murong Jeongui, and in haste, he crumpled the page. Even when he picked up the brush again, no suitable phrases came to mind.

In the end, he never finished the letter, even as scrapped drafts piled beneath the desk and rolled around the floor. He found it absurd, was his writing truly this poor? He’d never had a gift for music, sure, but at least he used to be competent enough with words to avoid embarrassment.

“Why not just write anything? You won’t be sending it anyway.”

“Ahhh!”

Startled out of his thoughts by the sudden voice, Seolyeong shrieked. He whipped his head around, heart thudding, and there was his husband, perched casually on the windowsill.

Damn it! How long had he been watching?

Sahyeol Amje read the question on his wife’s face and let out a small laugh.

“It seems like you were struggling from the very beginning. Why don’t you come with me for a little outing instead?”

“An… outing?”

“Mhm.”

An outing? The unexpected arrival and the even more unexpected suggestion left Seolyeong completely thrown. Behind Sahyeol Amje, clad in his dark blue robe, the sky stretched out in vivid clarity.

“It’s been a while since I left the palace. I was hoping you’d come with me.”

Seolyeong’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. As his gaze turned sharp, Sahyeol Amje snapped his fingers.

“Uh…”

Seolyeong’s limbs moved on their own, stiffly marching toward him. Realizing he was being manipulated like a puppet, he burst out in irritation.

“Then why did you bother asking for my opinion at all?”

His tone bristled with thorns, as if he’d expected to be dragged along against his will. But Sahyeol Amje simply pulled him into an embrace. Wrapping one arm around Seolyeong’s waist, he lifted his gaze.

Suddenly looking down at the sect leader, Seolyeong froze in confusion.

“I need you, Ahyeong. Please come with me.”

Today, his mood was far more subdued than usual. Could it be, Seolyeong wondered, that he was feeling lonely after the North Sea delegation, whom he’d seemed close with, had departed from Sipman Daesan?

Tang Yujae buried his face against Seolyeong’s stomach. The sweltering heat of his yang energy gently thawed the cold stiffness of his skin. After erasing the memories of the Hanhoe’s leader and the Eight Pavillon Lords, he’d suffered a brutal backlash all through the night. He was only now realizing again that his body was slowly breaking down. If not for the imugi, it likely would have collapsed already.

“If I go alone, I think I’ll miss this embrace.”

He whispered the words, and he somehow seemed like a fragile child. Seolyeong unconsciously reached out and stroked his broad back. He felt a chilling, poisonous aura spread beneath his palm.

“Haa…”

The sect leader sighed, and lowered his eyelids.

Even though he knew well it wasn’t his concern whether the man was suffering from yin energy or not, Seolyeong couldn’t understand why he was fussing over him anyway. This man had lied to him, deceived him, and toyed with his life for fun.

No matter how much his ideals as a righteous warrior might tell him to care, it was far more proper to reject that concern entirely.

And yet.

“…Are you unwell?”

Why couldn’t he look away? In his mind, he saw nothing but that child walking through the snow, face pale and body cold. That small boy who’d held Seolyeong’s hand tightly, like it was a fireplace, was now the feared Sahyeol Amje of the martial world.

What had turned him into the venomous snake of the demonic sect? Seolyeong struggled to suppress his curiosity.

Yujae took his hand and pressed it to his own cheek.

“You truly are hopeless…”

He chided him gently, but with a smile that didn’t fade.

“You gave in so easily just because I played the weak one for a moment. That kindness of yours will strangle you someday.”

It was a very meaningful remark. Seolyeong’s face twisted in a displeased expression, but Sahyeol Amje slowly released his grip. For some reason, he looked strangely relieved.

Tang Yujae asked, facing the silent bride,

“By the way, have you thought about the question I gave you?”

Warm sunlight broke through the clouds. A soft spring breeze drifted through the window, and Seolyeong couldn’t help but glance up, wondering if the energy he felt was indeed that of the Sipman Daesan. As he stared blankly out the window, the sect leader tugged at his robe.

“Hey. Don’t get distracted. Answer first.”

After a long pause, Seolyeong asked vack with a nervous expression,

“You mean… the reason you haven’t taken me, despite being able to?”

“Probably.”

“…That’s…”

He didn’t want to say it out loud, so he hesitated for a moment.

“My lord…”

He hesitated, Tang Yujae started blankly at the bride’s face, lips twisting in a grimace as if he were about to die from disgust.

“…Isn’t it because you love me?”

Finally the words came out reluctantly, almost spat.

That pitch-dark gaze, filled with longing, was a look he’d seen many times before, in Murong Jeongui’s eyes. As he remembered the young man who’d loved him to the point of madness, Seolyeong went on.

“However I cannot love you, my lord.”

Had this been the early days of his marriage at the Yurigung, he wouldn’t have even dared to say such a thing. He’d have worried that if he overstepped, the martial world might suffer in his place. But after observing Sahyeol Amje for some time, Seolyeong had reached a conclusion. This man wasn’t the type to go on a killing spree over a few honest words.

If anything, he was acting like someone who’d fallen into a daze after finally settling an old grudge.

‘What do you think, Ahyeong? Do I still seem like a man who wants to destroy the world?’

He had asked that question once, standing in front of frozen statues. Back then, Seolyeong had felt something strange, an emptiness from the man who had once trampled Jungwon. It was the kind of loneliness that would’ve made any righteous master cough blood to hear… but he hadn’t imagined it.

That’s why Seolyeong had become curious about the man’s past. What kind of life had the blood of the Tang clan lived, to end up rebuilding the Cheonma Divine Sect?

Yujae gently gathered Seolyeong’s long hair in his fingers.

“…I don’t expect love from you.”

He meant it. From the beginning, Tang Yujae had no lingering desire for life, certainly not enough to beg for love. What he wanted was to complete his final task, then fall into eternal rest. Even if that meant death.

“I’ve never once thought about becoming a real couple with you. Soon, I’ll return the camellia of Yonyeong to its homeland…”

And finally, the true purpose was revealed.

“Would you like to hold Gyeokroe-do (Lightning-strike sword) and show me the Fire Dragon Sword’s first form?”

His pupils, narrowed like a serpent’s, gleamed with a sharp light.

The imugi had once said he was blinded by love. But that was absurd. To Tang Yujae, love was nothing more than an unexpected contaminant. It didn’t even hold enough power to be worth denying.

He calmly added,

“I swear. After that, I’ll set you free.”

“……”

“Go back to Yonyeong and live your life as you are… no, as a righteous warrior.”

It was a vow from the leader of the Cheonma Divine Sect. A promise made by one as mighty as the sky. There could be no doubt that Seolyeong’s freedom had been secured.

But he couldn’t bring himself to feel relief or joy. The words of the previous Murong patriarch pierced through his heart like an arrow. The eyes reveal the heart, he had once said.

And now, as that memory surfaced, Seolyeong wanted to ask.

Then tell me, my lord. What kind of secret is this man carrying, that he looks at me with such eyes? There’s something burning behind them, dark enough to squeeze the breath from my throat, and I… I just can’t look away.