Chapter 85

When he tried to recite a fairy tale, it came out as a proverb; when he tried to joke, it came out as a threat. ‘Cho Yoon’ was a body with a very strange input and output.

How did someone live to become like this?

It was beyond understanding.

Lacking engaging educational videos or proper textbooks, Cho Yoon was forced to rely entirely on Jeong Hayoon’s modern knowledge to teach the boy. Consequently, despite desperately wanting to burst into tears of frustration, he had to keep talking, stubbornly marching forward. And it seemed the horrific, unforeseen consequences of those agonizing lectures were now playing out right before his eyes.ß

I know I gave him a thorough sex education… but did I focus too much on the clinical theory? Cho Yoon agonized. It’s not exactly like I could deliver the talk in a warm, storybook tone with ‘Cho Yoon’s’ imposing voice…

Regardless of Cho Yoon’s internal panic, this was clearly a deeply critical dilemma from the boy’s perspective. Watching Cheon-oh look as though he had committed a cardinal sin, practically on the verge of tears, Cho Yoon racked his brain. Above all else, he needed to definitively assure the boy that a nocturnal emission was not a mistake.

“You force me to repeat myself,” Cho Yoon said, his voice measured. “I will say this one final time. It is not a mistake. It is entirely natural. Therefore, cease this meaningless agonizing.”

Cho Yoon! his internal monologue screamed. When you phrase it like that, of course the kid is going to get terrified the moment his body acts up! He desperately wanted to yank his own hair out. It was frankly tragic that such a stiff, clinical reassurance actually managed to soothe Cheon-oh’s expression. Swallowing a heavy sigh, Cho Yoon pivoted to a new line of questioning.

“Let me ask you one more thing.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Was the person in your dream someone you know?”

“…”

In a flash, the boy’s face flushed a violent crimson, the heat spreading rapidly to the very tips of his ears. It didn’t stop there; Cheon-oh gasped sharply, his shoulders locking into a rigid, tense line. Cho Yoon didn’t even need an auditory confirmation; the reaction was a glaringly obvious ‘yes.’

For once, Cho Yoon was profoundly grateful for his stiff, unyielding facial muscles, allowing himself to grin widely internally. He knew his external expression would remain an unreadable mask of absolute neutrality without him even having to try.

Could this be his first crush? Cho Yoon wondered, giddy. Fifteen is definitely the right age to start liking someone. But who? Don’t tell me… is it one of his senior siblings?

Who else did Cheon-oh actually know? The boy had explicitly mentioned the person was older than him. Could it be Hui? No, they had last seen Hui four years ago, and Cheon-oh had never shown any particular interest since. Even when they first met, Cheon-oh had remained completely indifferent while everyone else panicked.

No matter how I look at it, it has to be either Sa-yeong or Sa-hyeon… Cho Yoon reasoned. We do exchange letters occasionally. Is he desperately wishing he could see them and write to them every day, but holding back because he thinks it would burden me? That’s highly likely. Cheon-oh is incredibly considerate and mature; it makes perfect sense he would think that way.

Completely untethered from reality, Cho Yoon’s delusional theory rapidly accelerated, expanding into a fully formed narrative. The real tragedy was that his logic actually possessed a startling amount of coherent plausibility.

If Cheon-oh had experienced a wet dream about holding and kissing someone he had practically grown up with since he was seven, this level of paralyzing embarrassment was entirely justified. Furthermore, regardless of which sibling he was dreaming about, feeling a profound sense of sin and taboo regarding a fellow disciple was perfectly natural, completely explaining his reluctance to confess to his master.

So… how the hell am I supposed to handle this? Cho Yoon wondered.

Blindly encouraging the crush was absolutely out of the question… but he couldn’t just sit back and watch the boy’s first love wither and die from guilt either.

While Cho Yoon was lost in his monumentally flawed contemplation, Cheon-oh—who looked as though he were bursting with unspoken words—suddenly dropped his head.

Fidgeting nervously, he mumbled in a tiny voice.

“…They are someone who has helped me immensely, and I… I do not know if I am allowed to harbor such thoughts and emotions toward them,” Cheon-oh confessed. “You told me it is natural, Master, but… I cannot shake the feeling that I have committed a terrible wrong.”

He said ‘someone who helped me immensely’—it absolutely is one of his senior siblings!

Temporarily forgetting the gravity of the situation, Cho Yoon swelled with immense, paternal pride. To think that tiny seven-year-old kid has already grown up enough to understand love! And rather than blindly pursuing it, he’s actually reflecting on his emotions and agonizing over the morality of it all!

Having reached this entirely fabricated conclusion, Cho Yoon was determined to guide the boy’s first love in a healthy direction, no matter what it took.

Regardless of the ultimate outcome, he wanted this experience to facilitate Cheon-oh’s emotional growth.

Therefore, rather than interrogating the boy further, Cho Yoon gently took his hand and led him out of the washroom.

Instead of returning straight to their quarters, he planned to take a short stroll and have a proper talk before sending the boy to bed.

A brilliant full moon cast a soft, ethereal glow over the meticulously manicured back garden. The lush fruit trees and the gently bowing flower buds possessed their own quiet, elegant charm.

Filled with a heartwarming sense of duty, Cho Yoon carefully weighed his words before speaking, completely oblivious to the fact that he was enthusiastically digging his own grave.

“Listen closely, and carve these words into your heart.”

Walking silently across the smoothed dirt path, Cho Yoon finally released the boy’s hand. He turned to look at Cheon-oh, who was trailing closely beside him with his hands clasped behind his back, carrying his wet clothes. Gazing up at Cho Yoon, the boy’s pitch-black eyes seemed to catch the moonlight, shimmering with an intense, sudden vitality.

Cho Yoon continued smoothly.

“The emotion of ‘liking’ someone encompasses a vast multitude of forms,” he explained. “It could be romantic affection, it could be friendship, or perhaps it is profound admiration or deep familial love. There are undoubtedly countless variations of affection that human language simply cannot articulate.”

“…Yes, Master.”

“However, to ensure that this vast spectrum of affection does not become a sin against the one you care for, only one absolute requirement exists.”

Cheon-oh’s eyes were so impossibly dark that the pupils and irises were indistinguishable. As he always did, the boy looked up at Cho Yoon, desperately seeking an answer. Believing with absolute certainty that his master held every truth in the universe, Cheon-oh willingly surrendered his own judgment.

Even someone as notoriously dense as Cho Yoon couldn’t possibly miss the sheer intensity of that gaze. In truth, he had been acutely aware of it for quite some time: Cheon-oh was excessively, almost unnaturally dependent on him. A single, casual remark from Cho Yoon could profoundly dictate the boy’s entire worldview.

Cho Yoon rationalized that it was only natural for a severely traumatized, still-maturing child to fiercely rely on the one person who protected and nurtured him. Therefore, rather than simply ordering Cheon-oh to stop leaning on him, Cho Yoon resolved to utilize this absolute trust to construct something positive.

He desperately wanted to build a robust, unshakeable foundation for Cheon-oh’s ego, ensuring that when the time finally came, the boy could leave his side and lead a healthy, independent life.

To achieve that, he had to continuously instil a rigid moral compass and ethical framework within the child. For a boy born incapable of distinguishing good from evil and lacking fundamental empathy, internalizing the concept of ‘social acceptability’ was absolutely vital for his survival among others.

Taking the wet clothes from Cheon-oh, Cho Yoon briefly flared his internal energy, instantly vaporizing the moisture. Handing the now-dry garments back, he spoke.

“The only thing that prevents affection from curdling into disrespect is absolute respect.”

“…Respect?”

“Yes. It means taking a moment to consider the other person’s perspective, evaluating how your actions will be perceived, and adjusting your behavior accordingly,” Cho Yoon explained patiently. “It is not so different from the conversation we had atop the cliff when you were seven. In fact, it is a direct continuation of it.”

I remember breaking down the concept of ‘respect’ for him back then, too, Cho Yoon reminisced, a fond smile gracing his internal thoughts as he recalled the tiny, wide-eyed Cheon-oh sitting quietly and discussing the metaphor of the ax. Compared to those days, the fact that he can understand the concept without a complex analogy proves just how much he’s grown.

“The feeling of liking someone cannot be a sin in and of itself, but it also cannot serve as an absolute pardon,” Cho Yoon warned gently. “Affection must never become an excuse. Tell me, what is it that you wish to do with the person in your dream?”

“…”

Cheon-oh drew a sharp breath, reacting as if a physical dagger had been plunged into his chest. Frantically avoiding eye contact, he mumbled in a tiny, fragile voice.

“…Exactly as I did in the dream… I thought I wanted to hold them. To kiss them… to hold their hand…”

“I see. Now, I want you to look at the situation from the reverse perspective,” Cho Yoon instructed. “If you were to demand those things of them right now, do you believe they would accept your advances with a joyful heart?”

“…No.”

Of course they wouldn’t… Cho Yoon thought sympathetically. Sa-yeong possesses terrifyingly sharp instincts and high walls; she’s never fully opened her heart to Cheon-oh. And Sa-hyeon is completely obsessed with his sister to the exclusion of all else. Perhaps they’ve changed during their time apart, but Cheon-oh certainly wouldn’t know that. Regardless, the chances of either of them reciprocating his feelings are practically zero.

Operating under the absolute, ironclad conviction that Cheon-oh’s first love was one of his senior siblings, Cho Yoon asked his next question with grave sincerity.

“Up to this point, you have committed no sin. However, you must carefully consider what comes next. If this person rejects you, will you cause them harm?”

“No. No, absolutely not!” Cheon-oh vehemently denied.

“Then you currently possess no reason to harbor any guilt,” Cho Yoon declared warmly. “So long as you harbor no intention of forcing your emotions upon them, and so long as you do not harbor resentment should they fail to return your feelings equally, there is absolutely no problem.”

Stepping closer, Cho Yoon raised a hand. He gently stroked the boy’s shoulder—which was finally beginning to broaden into a masculine frame—and smoothed back the black hair that had become tangled when Cheon-oh bolted from bed.

Gazing up, Cheon-oh frantically drank in the boundless, overwhelming affection radiating from his master’s downcast eyes.

“There is a saying: ‘The one who loves more is the loser,'” Cho Yoon murmured softly. “If you allow yourself to be crushed by that sense of defeat, or if it twists you into something cruel, then you possess no right to love anyone at all.”

“…”

“Therefore, if you truly possess the resolve, steel your heart and put in the effort,” Cho Yoon advised, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. “Do not attempt to manipulate or bend their emotions to your will. Simply lay your sincerity bare and devote yourself entirely to your own betterment. Since you were the first to fall, your only option is to thoroughly understand them, refine yourself, and make yourself someone they cannot help but look back at.”