HDS - 13

 Chapter 13

How could a person's body be this light?

Could he be made of paper?

He knew it couldn't be true, yet the suspicion wouldn't leave him. The body in Wi Hyeokrin's arms was so frail that a breath of wind seemed enough to scatter it.

"Young Master."

When he had seen Murong Yeon stagger on his way out of Mangyeong Pavilion, Wi Hyeokrin had thought of nothing else. He had simply run.

The expensive teacup he had been holding shattered on the ground. He even forgot that he stood a full hand's breadth shorter than Murong Yeon.

"Young Master! Young Master, please, wake up!"

He called out in a panic, but the closed eyes would not open. Wi Hyeokrin quickly took the thin wrist to check the pulse, then bent to hold his ear close to the pale lips and listen for breath.

The breathing was shallow but even. The pulse was slow but not erratic. It wasn't an emergency. It was better to carry someone so precious somewhere warm than to leave him on the cold floor, and to send for a physician afterward. That was the conclusion he reached.

"Young Master, I'm taking you to White Cloud Pavilion."

Wi Hyeokrin spoke the words with all due respect, then ducked under Murong Yeon's arm and propped him up in what was almost an embrace, and began to move slowly.

He hadn't gone far before his forehead and the back of his neck were slick with sweat and his legs began to shake. Still, he clenched his teeth. He couldn't bear the thought of leaving so much as a scratch on Murong Yeon.

Right now, I'm the only one who can help Young Master.

Having stayed at his side, he had come to understand something. Murong Yeon did everything he could to avoid showing weakness to the household.

So he couldn't collapse here. He stopped again and again along the long corridor, gasping for breath. At every raised threshold, his heart in his throat, he hauled Murong Yeon over with all the strength he had.

And through it all, he never once called for help. He was afraid that someone else in the household might see Murong Yeon unconscious.

After enduring untold hardship, Wi Hyeokrin reached White Cloud Pavilion and laid Murong Yeon carefully on the bed. As he took in the bluish pallor, the bloodless lips, and the shallow rise and fall of his chest, his gaze caught on the disarray of his clothes.

"Forgive me for a moment."

He felt wretched for having ruined the Young Master's usual immaculate appearance by hauling him all this way like a load on his back.

Careful not to wake him, he smoothed the crumpled sleeves, straightened the collar, and drew the blanket up to his chest. He didn't dare let out a loud breath, afraid that even that might disturb him.

"Haa..."

Only after lighting the incense that cleared the mind and settled the qi and blood did he wipe the sweat from his brow.

The day he'd first met Murong Yeon was still vivid in his mind. When he had first come to the Murong Clan, Wi Hyeokrin hadn't expected much.

Martial arts lessons, they said.

To a beggar for whom even a meal was a distant dream, it had sounded like an empty fantasy. Still, he had gone, thinking that with a little luck he might at least be taken in as a servant for odd jobs.

And if not, it's an orthodox clan. They'd at least spare a bowl of cold rice.

But no such luck. Of all people, he had run into a group of unkind disciples, and he was about to be thrown out.

Being beaten was so routine that he'd only been hoping it wouldn't hurt too much, when a voice as sharp as frost rang out and Murong Yeon appeared.

A beauty that might have been carved from ivory, an elegant and aloof bearing, eyes so cold they stung, and a way of speaking so icy it bordered on heartless. He had looked like a celestial being come down to pass judgment.

And yet, astonishingly, Murong Yeon had rebuked the disciple, taken him to White Cloud Pavilion, and even made him his attendant.

I want to become more useful.

He didn't want to stop at merely waiting on him. When a day like today came, when the Young Master collapsed, he needed the strength to carry him without faltering.

Only then could he stand at the Young Master's side with his head held high.

With that thought, Wi Hyeokrin gazed down at Murong Yeon as though in a trance. Just then, the long lashes resting against the pale cheeks began to tremble.

"Mm..."

A faint groan escaped between the dry lips.

"!"

Wi Hyeokrin flinched and backed away in two quick steps. His heart pounded wildly, like a child caught doing something forbidden. He fled the room before the sleeper could open his eyes.

Moments later, Murong Yeon slowly opened his eyes. The bed curtains came into view. Perhaps because of the sharp, cool fragrance that reached his nose, his head felt clearer than usual.

Storax incense, then.

He didn't need to look to know who had lit it. He guessed that the one who had held him up so frantically must have been Wi Hyeokrin.

"He must have been frightened..."

He lifted an arm over his eyes and sighed. He had worked so hard to show the boy the image of a proud, haughty young master, and now he had collapsed in front of him so pathetically.

Picturing that flustered face worried him. He also wondered how the boy had managed to bring him here, and slowly pushed himself upright.

A leaden exhaustion crushed down on his whole body at once. At least the dizziness he'd felt before losing consciousness had faded.

Murong Yeon steadied his breathing and put strength into his voice.

"Is anyone there?"

"You called, Young Master?"

A servant opened the door, stepped in, and bowed.

"Where is my attendant? Why have you come in his place?"

"Steward Jang summoned him, so he went to see him."

Steward Jang was the head of the clan's household affairs. Yet he had always left matters at White Cloud Pavilion entirely to Murong Yeon, and in all this time had never once sought out Wi Hyeokrin on his own.

"For what reason?"

"Well... the teacup you use, Young Master, was found broken and left in the corridor. I understand he was called to explain what happened."

"A teacup?"

The sound of something shattering, which he had heard just before fainting, came back to him.

"It's a very costly piece to begin with, and if it broke, it should have been cleared away and reported at once. Yet it was left where it lay. That's probably why."

"So Steward Jang summoned him without so much as a word to me?"

"So I understand."

Murong Yeon's expression hardened as the servant bowed so apologetically, and he tried to rise.

"Ah..."

But the moment his foot touched the floor, the strength drained out of his knees and he dropped back onto the bed.

"Y-Young Master. Are you all right?"

The servant hurried to support him, but Murong Yeon coldly brushed the hand away.

"Enough. Go to Steward Jang this instant and tell him to bring my attendant here."

"Yes, Young Master!"

The servant scrambled out at the order, which struck like ice. Left alone, Murong Yeon leaned back against the pillar.

Moving so abruptly seemed to have burned through what little strength he'd recovered. If not for the faint incense drifting through the room, he would have lain down again by now.

"Haa... This really won't do. As soon as I finish the tournament quest, I'll use recuperation as an excuse and head to Northern Garrison."

That way, when they met again, he wouldn't have to show Wi Hyeokrin a feeble, sickly figure.

Just as he settled on that resolve, a commotion rose outside. Murong Yeon straightened from his slouch and slipped back into the role of the arrogant young master.

"Young Master, it is Steward Jang. I heard you had called for me, so I came to pay my respects."

"Come in."

At his permission, a middle-aged man entered and greeted him courteously. He wore a starched crimson robe without a speck on it, and his back was held straight.

Steward Jang, who had managed the Murong Clan's household for ten years, carried himself with an air that left no opening.

"You summoned me, Young Master?"

His clasped-hands bow was respectful, and his voice was low and smooth. Yet in that unbending posture lay the dignity of a man who ran the entire clan.

"Where is my attendant?"

"I left him waiting outside. As I'd heard you were unwell, I thought to offer my greetings first and then await your word."

The words sounded plausible, but it was no way to treat a superior.

"You summon my attendant at will, without my permission? How insolent you are!"

In truth, it was excessive to be angry that the steward had summoned the attendant over a broken teacup. But Steward Jang knew full well that Murong Yeon was a prickly, high-strung young master, and without letting a flicker of displeasure cross his face, he lowered his head.

"I was rash, Young Master. I simply did not wish to disturb your rest, and I meant to report to you afterward. I had no other thought whatsoever."

Murong Yeon studied the middle-aged man standing so respectfully before him. Steward Jang was in league with the Third Elder. More than that, he was a spy planted by the Demonic Cult. As his surname suggested, he wore the guise of one of the countless distant branch relations, tied to the main line by threads as thin as Jang Pungyeop's.

So thoroughly had he hidden his identity that, had the Heavenly Demon not torn the Murong Clan apart in his hunt for Murong Yeon, it would never have come to light.

That the two of them have already met... how unexpected.

In the original story, the incident that entangles Wi Hyeokrin with Steward Jang occurs when Jang Pungyeop enters the Third Elder's service.

It was Steward Jang who, having taken note of the protagonist's remarkable talent, later drew him into the Demonic Cult after he was driven out of the Murong Clan.

With Hyeokrin's tournament moved up, part of the plot must have been twisted out of shape.

That was simply how possession novels worked. The more he intervened, the more unforeseen events arose. He had to be prepared for every possibility.

Having collected his thoughts, Murong Yeon gave the order again.

"Send Rin in."​