All My Murim Noonas Are Obsessed With Me!

"…Ugh."

He grimaced, rubbing his backside with a hand.

Who'd have thought she'd actually hit him when he said to?

—Squish squish

"What're you staring at? Something to see?"

"N-No, nothing…"

"Couldn't you go easier… ugh…"

He couldn't see it himself, but the stinging suggested a red mark—easy to picture.

"I-I adjusted the angle and strength… it'll just hurt, that's all…"

—Twinge

"S-Sorry…"

A glare loaded with resentment made Yeosocheon shuffle back a bit.

So she did feel some guilt, huh?

"…Haa, fine. You probably didn't have a choice either."

Resentment lingered, but she was just following the Heavenly Earth Spirits' orders—couldn't be helped. She was a saintess, stuck obeying that cranky god. Not like she enjoyed it or chose to—maybe no need to hate her too much.

"Still, you could've gone lighter…"

That aside, the sting in his backside wasn't fading.

Rubbing the tender spot, a memory from his days with his master surfaced—something about him saying his butt was pretty, maybe?

'Looked normal enough but loved harassing me.'

Getting pestered by his master wasn't a one-off thing—barely registered anymore.

'Come to think of it, it's been ages since I last saw his face.'

A year and a half—long if you stretch it, short if you don't. But the density of what he'd been through since stepping into the martial world made it feel anything but brief. Event-wise, it outstripped the decade with his master.

He'd left the mountains for thrills, bored out of his mind—no point in questioning it now. Regrets crept in, sure, but could he have stayed there alone, waiting three years for his master? Doubtful. Back then, he'd been starving for something new.

'Leaving me alone for three years—that's on him…'

Pouting, he grumbled inwardly about his master. A year, maybe—but three? Way too long. For someone his age—not some ancient like his master—three years was an eternity. Farm alone, pluck weeds, and wait?

'Hmph.'

No way he could live like that.

He could read the heavens a bit, sure—but he wasn't some monk or hermit to pull that off. Those who ate wall-valley pills and trained through it had goals—strength, ambition—to endure. Him? Just raw, aimless waiting for three years.

So running off was obvious.

Not his fault—not one bit.

"Uh, hey…"

"What?"

"We're getting close—probably have to ditch the carriage and walk starting tomorrow. You okay with that?"

"…Oh."

Already?

They'd reached the vault's vicinity, it seemed.

No surprise—couldn't exactly roll a carriage right up to it. Unless they wanted to scream, "Hey, we're here to loot!"

"Walking… ugh…"

He knew it was inevitable, but the thought alone drained him.

This frail body—how was he supposed to trek that far? And it wasn't just getting there—dodging traps inside that massive vault? His vision darkened just imagining it.

"Want me to carry you if it's too much?"

"…Carry me?"

His eyes instinctively scanned Yeosocheon's frame—her face flushed as she snapped—

"I might look small, but I'm bigger than you! I can carry you just fine!"

"…Didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to—anyone could read that look!"

'Tch.'

Clicking his tongue, he tugged his hood back up from where it'd slid down.

"Hmph! Don't freak out when I carry you! With my lightness skill, I'll zip—"

"Wouldn't that kill me?"

"…A little slower, then."

Her slightly deflated tone made him wonder—how old was she, really?

++++

—Rustle rustle

"…Here?"

A cold-faced woman with a sword at her hip held a map, glancing between it and the landscape.

Clearly searching for something.

"Hey, elder—mind if I ask directions?"

"Hm? A stranger, eh?"

No surprise she'd stop a passerby to ask—predictable move.

"Ever heard tales of demons popping up in the mountains around here?"

"Demons?"

"Yes—oh, I'm late introducing myself. Not much to brag about, but I hunt demons for a living."

"Demons… demons, huh…"

This remote village near the mountains rarely saw outsiders—let alone one hunting demons. Still, the old man dredged his memory for the rare visitor—

"Now that you mention it… I recall my granddad saying something when I was a kid. Heard there used to be plenty of demons in these mountains."

A dusty old memory surfaced—definitely not because the woman was strikingly pretty or anything.

"…Your grandfather? Did he ever mention a golden-furred fox demon?"

"Can't say I recall that far. Sorry, lass."

"No, no—it's fine. That's plenty helpful."

Thanking the old man and parting ways, she studied her map again.

A relic from her family's warehouse—generations of demon hunters.

'Eight-tailed fox… or nine by now?'

One of her ancestors had spotted an eight-tailed fox—too fast to catch, leaving only the mountain's location marked on this worn map. Given its age, another tail might've grown.

A thousand-year fox rivaled gods, they said—but it was still a demon. Slay it before it matured, and she'd quell a world-shaking threat.

The cash from its corpse? Just a bonus—new sword, house repairs, mounting debts, marriage funds…

Her worries were painfully practical, but she slapped her cheeks, eyes blazing as she stared at the mountain.

A colossal peak—rumored to house demons, no less.

As a demon hunter, she couldn't leave a potential calamity unchecked.

'I'll find you.'

Fist clenched, she steeled her resolve.

Demons shunned humans—likely deep in the mountain's heart.

'Starting tomorrow, I'll scour above the mid-slope.'

"Excuse me, could you step aside?"

"Oh—yes, sorry!"

"No worries—thanks."

—Creak creak

A man hauling a cart of meat, books, snacks, and odds-and-ends passed by—she raised her fist again.

'I can do this! Wait for me, demon!'

"You went again today? Don't you ever tire? No one's there, you said—been over a year and a half."

"Eh, got the advance—gotta do the job. It's not that bad; the path's well-kept."

"Gods, how pretty is she that he still can't let go?"

She'd come to deeply regret this choice later—but that's a tale for another time.

++++

Yeosocheon's "ride quality," as it were, turned out decent.

Back in the day, getting carried by a tiny girl might've bruised a man's pride—

'Whatever… pride's long gone…'

What more did he need?

Too far gone to cling to that nonsense.

A weakling who couldn't beat an average woman, swaggering in a monster-filled world—what pride?

The one carrying him now—Yeosocheon—might look small, but she could cleave a mountain if she wanted…

'Could she…?'

Maybe not that—but she was a freak, no doubt. No point flexing pride against that.

And honestly, the trip was comfier than expected.

She was small, sure, but so was he—no awkward strain. Her martial skill shone through—balance and strength finely tuned, making the swift pace feel smooth, not jarring.

Another reason it felt oddly cozy?

Early on, wondering if there was a better position, she'd abruptly scooped him up—Earth-style "princess carry."

Pride aside, shame kicked in—he'd resisted.

But with their builds, that pose meant certain… delicate parts brushing together.

No matter how carefully she moved, bodies shifted a bit—

"…"

"…"

That's why an awkward vibe hung between them now.

No misunderstandings—no accidents happened.

They'd stopped just shy of disaster.

Problem was, it was a close shave.

'…Was my body always this sensitive?'

Same deal with that kiss—something about Yeosocheon cranked his senses way up.

Living with Dang Ayeong taught him he was kinda pathetic, but not this bad.

Sure, he was quick on the draw—but not so useless he couldn't function as a man.

'…Is something up?'

Sighing inwardly, he scratched his head.

Even for a sensitive guy, this was nuts—nearly peaking from a kiss and… whatever this was? That's not sensitivity—that's a problem.

Good thing they'd stopped short—or it'd have been—

'…A real disaster.'

A shiver ran through him just picturing it.

He was already juggling the fallout with Dang Ayeong to convince the Sword Sovereign—adding Yeosocheon to the mess? Unthinkable.

So—

"Uh…"

"L-Let's go! We're here—nearby, right? Haha, we'll find it quick!"