Martial Arts Masochist

“This... is truly bizarre...”

Bang Biyeon Uncle muttered to himself as he sat facing me.

“What do you mean?”

“So very strange...”

He let out a long sigh, then narrowed his eyes while glancing at my face.

“Young Master Han. I've long sensed you're no ordinary fellow, but at this point, I can't help but ask. What exactly are you hiding?”

“Pardon?”

“Whether it's sheer luck or some hidden technique...”

“So why are you saying that?”

Instead of answering, he carefully placed a few sheets of paper in front of me. Before I could even glance at them, Bang Biyeon continued slowly.

“We got word from the Hao Gate. They're offering to help us.”

His voice was calm, but those words struck my chest like thunder.

“The massive foundations of the Sangpyeong Merchant House and Wi Cheon Merchant House crumbled in an instant. The Hao Gate wants us to fill that void.”

The Hao Gate was originally an information network and a merchant group. They planted members in inns everywhere, gathering rumors from casual conversations passed mouth to mouth.

“Pardon?”

“It means we've absorbed the Sangpyeong Merchant House. We'll purge those who sided with Wi Cheon Merchant House, and the ones who knew nothing will become our people. Your leather garments played a big role in this.”

“...How so?”

They were just tacky clothes—how could they help?

“I don't know how they found out, but word is your handmade goods have reached the lips of high-ranking Hao Gate officials. They say they possess practicality, exquisite craftsmanship, and a lewd elegance all at once. The Hao Gate wants our Changhwa Trading Company to grow. And they say you're the starting point.”

“Me??”

I made leather clothes, sure, but to that extent?

Bang Biyeon stared at me for a moment, then waved his hand as if he'd given up on prying anything out of me.

“Whether you're hiding it or truly clueless, doesn't matter. Thanks to you alone, our Changhwa Trading Company has sprouted wings.”

A belated realization dawned on me.

Is the Hao Gate deliberately supporting me with some agenda?

But with just Brother Wi Chang's power, it wouldn't reach this far, would it?

...What else is attached to this?

Didn't Bang Biyeon Uncle just mention Hao Gate high officials?

...How important have I become in the Hao Gate?

Ha, damn. Looks like uncovering the connection between Wi Cheon Merchant House and Baek Sa-hyeon has led to something big.

“Young Master Han.”

As I pondered, Bang Biyeon called me again.

“Your life has truly taken off now. That much, I can guarantee.”

Those words eased my slight anxiety a bit.

****

Dang Soran's arrows weren't aimed solely at Han Seojin.

Two people had ignited her fury.

One was Han Seojin, the other... Cheongwol.

No matter how much she provoked him, Han Seojin showed no reaction.

She recalled Han Seojin swallowing her saliva.

As if it were nothing, he gulped down her spit.

‘Does it taste better because of my saliva?’

...Was he serious?

Did her saliva really taste good?

Dang Soran tried swallowing her own saliva to taste it, but it was flavorless.

Thinking of Han Seojin drinking her saliva made her anger inexplicably melt away.

Yet something burned hot. Her heart raced too.

It felt like... Han Seojin had devoured her...

“Ugh.”

Dang Soran steadied her softening resolve.

Her revenge was far from over.

While groping for her next move, she spotted Cheongwol walking through the streets in the distance.

After pulling that stunt yesterday, her face was the picture of a benevolent nun.

Dang Soran couldn't stand Cheongwol's pretense.

You vulgar bitch. Flaunting your ass to a man and still calling yourself a nun?

Dang Soran bit her lip hard, then headed toward Cheongwol.

“Wol-ah.”

Only after approaching did Dang Soran realize.

“Ah, Senior Dang.”

Cheongwol greeted her with a bright smile.

...And around her neck, the mark from yesterday.

That thin black choker hung there.

Dang Soran stared at Cheongwol in disbelief.

“...Are you insane?”

She whispered.

“...Why?”

Cheongwol's smiling eyes narrowed slyly.

“To me, it just looks pretty.”

At the surge of irritation, Dang Soran took a deep breath.

But Cheongwol's appearance kept nagging at her.

It was as if she were proclaiming to the world, even in broad daylight, who held her leash.

“It's not like the Young Master owns you, so why wear that?”

“Hmm.”

Cheongwol just shrugged and turned her head.

Grabbing Cheongwol's wrist, Dang Soran dragged her away from prying eyes.

Soon, with no one around, Dang Soran spoke.

“What if people see you wearing a plaything all the time?”

“Isn't that for me to decide? It's a gift from the Young Master, telling me to treasure it.”

Dang Soran gripped the hairpin hidden in her sleeve.

...Who could've thought that just days ago, this lovely hairpin would feel so pathetic now?

“...It's ugly, Wol-ah. Even if it's from the Young Master, it's too hideous.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. Way too much. So not pretty at all. What even is that? You're not a dog. Haven't you gotten any dirty looks? A nun wearing something like that.”

“There were a few suspicious glances.”

Cheongwol continued.

“I didn't think it'd look that odd. Hmm, should I give it to you then?”

“...Huh?”

“If it's that weird, no need to wear it. Too much of a shame to toss, so want it, Senior?”

“...”

Dang Soran was speechless.

...For real? She's offering it? Just like that?

Dang Soran imagined herself wearing that choker.

She swallowed at the erotic image.

If she took it... then naturally...

“...Ah.”

But as Dang Soran's hesitation dragged on, a smile tugged at Cheongwol's lips.

Dang Soran realized then: she never intended to give it from the start.

She'd just tested her with a simple lie.

The moment her desire was exposed, all her barbs fell flat.

“I don't need it...!”