Would it have been better to go back together, even if she hated it?

Cheon-oh had obediently stayed behind, thinking a strategic retreat was best for now, but his master had anticipated this exact scenario and explicitly told him not to wander around alone.

Complying might have made it harder to build a friendly relationship with the siblings, but it would have been far less bleak than his current predicament.

…No. Wait. That wasn’t necessarily a good idea either.

He couldn’t say for certain that he, a latecomer, was as precious to his master as the original disciples were. Even if their first conflict had been somewhat expected, if he kept failing to get along with them, lingering on the edges as an outsider and causing trouble, there was no telling what his master might decide.

Cheon-oh had nowhere else to go and no one else to cling to but his master. Yet his master already had children he was deeply attached to, and the moment Cheon-oh arrived, two enormous incidents had erupted, both with him at the center.

Cheon-oh stared at the empty space by his feet, his eyes dark and sunken. Sinister, vicious thoughts reared their heads for an instant before he crushed them back into the dirt, but the depressive ones lingered, staining his heart black as ink. From the deepest recesses of his consciousness, he almost felt as though he could hear a voice mechanically counting numbers.

If I lose consciousness like this and wake up, I wish it would be in that herb-scented room in the Estate of Deep Mists.

Like a stubborn child throwing a tantrum, only the things he desperately wanted kept surfacing. Mocking himself for his foolishness, he closed his eyes, which felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton.

Just then, the sound of tumbling pebbles echoed from deeper inside the earthen cave.

Startled wide awake, Cheon-oh shot up and whipped his head around. In the pitch-black depths where no light reached, two glowing red orbs hovered eerily. It took him a beat to realize they were eyes.

I have to run.

His instincts screamed at him.

Refusing to break eye contact, he stood, keeping his back toward the cave entrance. But his ankle, which had hurt so badly it had gone numb, suddenly flared with a vicious spike of delayed agony, and he collapsed backward.

Pain lit through his hips, his unhealed shins, and his knees, but he didn’t scream or look away. He planted his hands and dragged himself backward across the dirt, inch by inch.

He reached into his robes and pulled out the throwing dagger his Senior Sister had left behind. The thin blade caught a faint glint in the murk.

The roar of the rain grew closer, yet the distance between him and those glowing eyes stayed the same. For every inch he retreated, the creature advanced. His heart hammered as if it meant to burst through his ribs, and his breathing turned ragged.

Click, clack.

Four feet, stepping on rock.

The creature’s feet slid out of shadow into the faint light spilling from the entrance. Sharp claws gleamed like metal, and beneath them were three wrinkled toes. They did not belong to any ordinary beast. The glowing eyes brimmed with cruel, bloodthirsty intent, fixed solely on the insignificant prey before it.

The hand bracing Cheon-oh’s crawl touched the lip of the cave entrance. He flicked a glance down the steep slope behind him. A few loose stones, dislodged by his palm, tumbled over the edge and vanished into the drop.

He wasn’t scared.

Cheon-oh simply didn’t know the emotion called fear when his life was on the line. His body reacted on instinct, but his mind stayed chillingly cold and rational.

Throwing myself down the slope gives me the highest probability of survival.

Drawing closer, the monster unhinged its jaw. Rows of jagged teeth, each larger than Cheon-oh’s entire hand, filled its maw. When it planted its feet and lunged, Cheon-oh threw himself backward at the same time.

Curl up immediately so I can roll. Keep my wits about me so I can grab a tree. The plan was already finalized in his mind.

But what met his braced, closed-eyed body wasn’t the hard, jagged impact of rock. Instead, an embrace he’d felt many times before, an embrace he’d been waiting for, caught him securely.

Cheon-oh dropped the dagger without realizing it and grabbed fistfuls of his master’s robes with both hands. The distinct scent of medicinal herbs, heavy with rain, washed over him.

Cho Yoon’s arms and wide sleeves enveloped him completely. His neat, cold hands cradled the boy’s small head, covering both ears. In the split second a sound like rushing wind swept past them, the monster that had been threatening the child simply vanished, leaving no trace behind.

Carrying the boy, Cho Yoon stepped back into the earthen cave and sat, settling Cheon-oh on his thigh.

“My child, Cheon-oh. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Your body is as cold as ice. His master’s voice was clearly agitated.

Cheon-oh stared up at him blankly. He’d thought, He’ll come. He’ll definitely come, but actually seeing the man who had found him, hidden in a tiny hole on this massive mountain, sent an inexplicable surge of emotion crashing through him.

Hands rubbed his cheeks, and his fingers slowly grew warm. The white robes pressed against him were miraculously dry. Considering his master had been freezing and soaked just moments ago, he must have used some sort of technique.

Distracted by the warmth seeping into him, Cheon-oh parted his lips. “The creature…”

If I keep causing trouble, he might throw me away.

The thought snapped his mouth shut. He reworked his words and spoke again.

“I am not hurt. I am fine, Master.”

“…”

His master held his gaze in silence. Eyes that usually sparkled like golden amber in sunlight had deepened into shadowed brown in the fading light.

With guilt tightening his throat, Cheon-oh swallowed hard under the pressure of that quiet scrutiny. The next moment, the man’s warm hand closed around his injured ankle.

“…!”

“I thought you said you were not hurt.”

Cheon-oh barely managed to swallow a scream, but his body went rigid with pain. It was obvious his master, holding him so close, would notice. No. Perhaps he had known from the start.

Cheon-oh’s eyes darted frantically before dropping to the floor. What do I do? I just lied to him. And it was such an easy lie to catch.

Haa.

At his master’s sigh, Cheon-oh’s shoulders jumped. He braced himself for a scolding, maybe not a roar, but at least an exasperated reprimand.

Instead, the man pulled him into a tight embrace and stroked his back, gently and without pause.

“Still, I am so relieved you are not severely injured, my child. Truly. You did so well hiding quietly. For a moment, I thought I had lost you.”

“I… I am sorry, Master.”

His voice cracked.

Flustered, Cheon-oh clutched his master’s lapels, then released them with a pang of regret as the embrace ended. Cho Yoon shrugged off his outer robe, draped it securely around the boy, and effortlessly lifted him before setting him down on the bare dirt floor.

“No, there is no need for you to apologize. It is my fault for leaving you without a detailed explanation. You did wonderfully, Cheon-oh. You held on so well. It must have been terrifying, and yet you were brave.”

I did well? Me? At what?

Unable to process the praise, he stared up with wide eyes. His master carefully cradled Cheon-oh’s ankle, studying it for a moment before lifting his head. It was hard to tell whether the faint, desperate light flickering across that perpetually calm, elegant face was real or only an illusion.

“Cheon-oh.”

“…Yes, Master.”

Despite the deafening rain, his voice, crisp as an autumn breeze, rang with crystal clarity.

In a place so dark no sunlight could reach, his silhouette was impossibly bright and distinct. The scent of medicinal decoctions mingled with rain, and a dry warmth seeped steadily into Cheon-oh’s ankle.

It was strange. His throat felt thick and his stomach churned, yet it wasn’t unpleasant.

The cave, which had felt ominous and suffocating, suddenly felt safe simply because this one person was here. He didn’t even feel the urge to turn his head and check where the monster had been. As long as his master remained, he was safer than anyone else in the world.

“No matter the truth, if there is a version of events you wish for me to believe, I shall believe it.”

“…Yes, Master. I am sorry.”

He swallowed hard, trying to steady his tumbling heart, and kept his head bowed, lacking the courage to lift his face.

Then something warm seeped from his master’s hands directly into his ankle. It wasn’t mere body heat. It had weight, substance, as though it could be touched.

The throbbing, swollen, red-hot pain eased almost instantly. The relief was so complete his eyes were drawn to his ankle in fascination. As he slowly lifted his gaze, his master spoke, as if he’d anticipated the moment.

“However, you must not hide your pain from me.”

“…”

“Being hurt is not a burden to me. Promise me. Promise me that no matter what happens, you will never lie to me about this.”

Having said his piece, his master fell silent and waited.

Cheon-oh felt, with a quiet certainty, that those words would bind him for the rest of his life. His lips parted and closed several times before he finally forced them open, as though he were throwing himself off a cliff into paradise.

His voice dissolved into the damp air, small and pitiful, like a man with a leash around his neck. It sounded foreign even to his own ears.

“…Yes. I promise. I will not hide it from you when I am hurt or in pain, Master.”

At the answer he wanted, his master’s eyes narrowed faintly. The light filtering into the cave was dim, and the change in expression was minute, yet Cheon-oh could tell with absolute clarity that the man was smiling.

Cho Yoon drew him back into his arms and leaned against the cave wall so Cheon-oh could rest comfortably against his chest.

“The rain seems likely to stop soon. If your body gets any wetter, you will undoubtedly catch a cold, so let us wait a little longer before we head back. You must be exhausted. You may sleep now.”

Sleeping in a situation like this makes absolutely no sense.

Cheon-oh furrowed his brow and blinked rapidly, fighting the wave of drowsiness. But the gentle hands stroking his back and head, and the steady warmth surrounding him, soothed something deep inside. His exhausted mind yearned for rest.

Listening to the rhythmic patter of the rain, it didn’t take long after he closed his eyes for Cheon-oh’s breathing to settle into soft, even breaths.

His small hand stayed clenched in his master’s white robes, only loosening when Cho Yoon carried the sleeping child all the way back to the Estate of Deep Mists.