I Am This Murim’s Crazy Bitch

The coachman, contrary to expectations, turned out to be a real coachman. So, barring the part where he overcharged them a little and took the long, roundabout road instead of the faster one, the journey could be called uneventful.

And also... dreadfully boring.

Seriously. I’m going to die of boredom.

Thanks to the rain, we were stuck inside the carriage, and that Seol girl barely spoke a word, making her absolutely useless for killing time.

Sure, she had a pretty enough face and looked entirely soaked through, which made for something nice to look at, I guess.

She’d apparently stopped circulating her cold Qi to prepare for any unfortunate incidents, meaning she was now enduring the heat head-on—and completely drenched in sweat for her trouble.

After one day, then two, by the third, it seemed she finally couldn’t take it anymore. Without a word, she plopped herself down beside me.

Then she grabbed my hand without hesitation and pressed it straight against her cheek.

“Oh?”

What’s this? Some kind of seduction tactic?

But Seol Iri looked like someone who had just stepped into a sauna. Sweat dripped from her chin, plopping onto my hand as she guided it to her face. The stickiness instantly soaked my fingers.

“If you’re going to use someone’s hand like that, shouldn’t you at least wipe your sweat off first?”