Camellia 117

The second night with the sect leader left Seolyeong with complicated feelings.

Watching him sleep in his arms, he unconsciously reached out, brushing his fingers over the sect leader’s face, which now had a healthy flush from absorbing his yang energy.

Even the sect leader’s body held a human-like warmth. As that warmth spread beneath his fingertips, Seolyeong pushed back his husband’s hair with a conflicted expression.

“You make my heart all restless like this, and then… you just sleep so soundly all by yourself. That’s really unfair of you.”

He muttered his complaint at that open, handsome face, then gently wrapped his arms around his husband’s torso. Burying his face into those broad shoulders, he let out a strained whisper.

“If you were going to be kind, you should have done so from the start.”

The man before him was one of extremes. When cold, he was as frigid as thin ice, but when he chose to show tenderness, he became warmer than a roaring fire.

What was this man, with such extreme duality, trying to achieve by tempting him?

To Seolyeong, the sect leader’s actions felt like courtship and seduction. But as the one being courted, he couldn’t quite feel happy about it. The thought of a man who had slaughtered so many smiling, talking, and loving like an ordinary person filled him with discomfort.

The enemy of the martial world, Sahyeol Amje.

The Samasa of the demonic sect.

“Husband.”

Seolyeong pressed his tingling chest and spoke in a low voice. There were mountains of things he wanted to say, but none of them felt worth voicing.

After a brief silence, he called his husband’s name.

“…Yujae-ya.”

The face of that scrawny boy he had once considered taking as his disciple flashed through his mind. At first, all he had felt was betrayal at having been deceived, but now, even when he recalled those memories, there was no anger left. Just confusion, and a faint sense of absurdity.

Seolyeong whispered to the sect leader.

“When you turned into a child… you looked even more frail and underfed than Seolhyeon or me.”

He couldn’t help but be drawn to that face. To that boy who had looked at him with such hollow eyes.

“If that really was what you looked like as a child, there’s something I want to ask.”

He dropped the honorifics but his tone was never rude. Seolyeong recalled the days he had spent at the Murong clan, distracting himself from loneliness by teaching children, as he continued.

“Did you have no adult to protect you?”

It was a question he could only ask while the sect leader slept. At the same time, it was a question he didn’t actually expect an answer to.

“If I had been there by your side when you were a boy, if I had stayed close and kept you on the right path… would you have grown into an ordinary man and lived an ordinary life?”

Feigning sleep, Tang Yujae couldn’t hold back a chuckle at the absurdity of it.

The faint smile that curved his lips made Seolyeong startle like a frightened rabbit. Tang Yujae burrowed deeper into his bride’s embrace and gave his opinion.

“I don’t think so.”

His revenge had been inevitable. Even if someone had stayed by his side, pressing gentle teachings into him, his resolve to punish the martial world would not have changed much. For Yujae, that resolve was an atonement for Hayeon, a gift for the girl who had died protecting him.

As a boy, Tang Yujae had never been greedy for strength. Born as the least talented of the Tang clan, each time he picked up a sword under those disappointed gazes, he would think:

‘Do I really have to be that strong? I’m already satisfied with how I am.’

And so Hayeon was slaughtered in misery. Even a pregnant woman fleeing with her belly full was killed in the most horrible way, along with the life growing inside her.

Had he devoted himself to training and gained power, the story might have turned out differently.

“Don’t get lost in useless thoughts, Ahyeong-ah.”

Tang Yujae no longer found his bride’s compassion laughable. Rather, it was proof that the spirit of the orthodox sects truly existed. It was proof that even amidst the might-makes-right world of the martial arts, there could be a heart that never lost its sense of justice.

Yujae spoke with genuine sincerity.

“The more you do that, the more you’ll start to pity me. Before long, you’ll want to give me a chance.”

For some reason, Seolyeong’s gaze became trapped on those lips speaking such gentle words. Outside, the sky had already turned dark. He tried to turn his eyes toward it, but the sect leader grabbed his chin and fixed him in place.

“Promise me.”

The Samasa of the demonic sect was an elder who had endured the martial world far longer than Seolyeong. If his clan hadn’t been annihilated, perhaps they would have met as senior and junior, and built some kind of friendship. They would never have been close, their temperaments too different, but things wouldn’t have gone so wrong from the start like this.

“Promise me you won’t pity your husband. The moment you do, you’ll never be able to go home.”

Seolyeong suddenly wanted to ask where exactly this “home” of his was supposed to be. If he meant the Murong clan, that place had never once been his home.

To him, home was…

Damn it. He swallowed a curse and quickly jumped out of bed.

For a moment, he had almost thought of Yeonhu Mountain, with its eternal snow, as his home. For someone of the orthodox sects to call Sipman Daesan home. What a laughable thought.

As he left the sect leader’s chamber, he kept wanting to look back, which made it tormenting.

If that man looked lonely as he fell asleep alone, he would want to run back and offer his embrace. He would want to cradle the back of his head, stroke him, and maybe hum a lullaby, the same one he used to sing for the Murong clan children, even if they rarely responded to it.

“Oh, Wonsi Cheonjon…”

He fell into the bad habit of calling upon the Primeval God whenever things became difficult, his voice breaking with emotion. Back in his room, he sat by the window and gazed blankly up at the dim sky.

He was terrified that he might really end up loving the sect leader, just as the North Sea martial artist and Si Pungjae had predicted.

What if he couldn’t just stop hating him, but started wanting to love him? What if he began wanting to be his lover?

“…No. I won’t think about it now.”

Taking his husband’s advice, Seolyeong decided to push aside such useless thoughts. What mattered was that he had succeeded in quieting the raging imugi. That alone was enough of a victory, so he forced himself to lie down.

But even as he lay there, the sect leader’s face surfaced in his mind.

Those sharp, cold eyes, the straight nose, the chiseled jawline. And that occasional soft smile.

“…I’m much better looking.”

Seolyeong muttered under his breath, pulling the blanket over his head. Thump, thump. His heart was pounding. It always did whenever the cult leader’s face lingered before his eyes, leaving him restless each night.

*

When the preliminary rounds of the martial tournament ended and the final match list was posted on a bright, sunny day, Seolyeong saw that he would be facing the sect leader, just as expected. He glanced at the man beside him. Of course, the sect leader was standing there with his arms crossed, staring at the match list on Changhyeong Pavilion with an indifferent look.

Seolyeong nudged his side.

“Would it be better if I just let you win?”

A sly, teasing smile crossed Tang Yujae’s face, momentarily breaking his cold mask. Sunlight glimmered off the pavilion’s roof.

“Even if you want to win, you won’t stand a chance.”

The situation was perfect for teasing his prideful bride, so he shamelessly added,

“With your skill, you’d be knocked out before we even cross three moves.”

“What was that?”

As expected, Seolyeong snapped. Yujae shrugged, and a sharp retort followed.

“I can last three moves. Just how useless do you think I am?”

“Even a skilled one would lose to me in three moves.”

Unless he was deliberately toying with him like he had with Namgung Wook, the fight could end in a single exchange. Letting out a breathless laugh, Seolyeong grabbed Yujae’s arm.

“I don’t want to argue here, so let’s just go get some food.”

“You don’t have to eat.”

“But you do. You’re way too thin for your frame. You should eat well if you want to build some muscle.”

As his bride nagged him about eating properly, Tang Yujae casually picked at his ear, pretending not to care.

Thanks to this overly caring blood fiend, who was as meddlesome as he was affectionate, Yujae had no time to feel bored. For the first time in a long while, he was spending normal moments. The kind of ordinary moments only lovers usually shared.