IRNH C65

#65

Si-hyeon was the type to smile politely and refuse anyone outright, no matter how another might approach. For that reason, he never worried about others trying to get close to him—yet still, he disliked even the fleeting glances cast their way.

“I will suppress my qi signature myself. Please, Master, use your cap.”

“Hey, won’t that get tiring if you keep doing that?”

“It is fine.”

The firm reply left no room for argument. As Taewoon’s presence grew faint, fading like mist, Si-hyeon shook his head. By sealing and compressing his own energy, Taewoon could reduce his aura, rendering himself nearly unnoticeable even when brushing past ordinary people.

It wasn’t difficult technique—but constantly maintaining it demanded no small effort. Even so, Taewoon’s stubbornness prevailed, surprising Si-hyeon.

‘Stubborn to the core. Who on earth did he pick that up from?’

Not wishing to upset him, Si-hyeon quietly tugged his cap further down and raised his hand.

The chicken they had ordered turned out delicious. Apart from having to gently correct Taewoon’s overly refined posture—holding his fork like a blade—there had been no issues.

Until—

“Master, in this world, this sort of thing is what they call a date, isn’t it?”

Pfffft.

Coke sprayed down his chin. Taewoon delicately dabbed his lips with a napkin, but Si-hyeon sat frozen, mouth agape.

“D-date? Where’d you even—but no, wait—”

“I saw it on television.”

Why—why did he bring that up while eating chicken?

Scrambling for an answer, Si-hyeon sifted memories. A “date” usually meant eating, then coffee, then a movie. So far, they had only eaten together.

He wanted to deny it firmly—but lacking the experience himself, he faltered. Words melted away, trailing off incoherently.

“…Anyway, this isn’t… probably, I think, at least…”

“I see.”

Resting his chin against his hand, a piece of chicken speared in the other, Taewoon smiled faintly. No protest—just quiet acceptance.

It left Si-hyeon oddly hollow. Was it, or wasn’t it?

How laughable he felt now, remembering how confidently he had once sworn he would “teach him everything.” He hadn’t taught him half as much as he had intended. In fact, less than he had during their years in Murim.

The backlog of things left unsaid sat stacked like a mountain. He had sworn to explain, to apply modern culture, yet weeks had already passed.

Finally, he steeled his resolve.

“Dating… is something you do with someone you like—well, there are kinds of liking, but—”

“The literature here is excellent, don’t you think? Its content, yes?”

At the same time, Taewoon’s unrelated words overlapped, scattering Si-hyeon’s fragile train of thought like an exploded snack bag.

“…Forget it.”

Embarrassment singed his neck. Waving frantically, he turned his head toward what had caught Taewoon’s gaze.

Two young men at a nearby table compared their thick university textbooks like trophies.

“…You want a book?”

“It could be useful for studying culture. After all, we must live here now, mustn’t we?”

…He wanted to hit himself.

This wasn’t Murim. This world teemed with knowledge. TV, videos, libraries, the internet, books everywhere. Why had he thought he alone had to teach him?

Then… what use am I?

The realization sat bitter, hollowing out his role.

Get it together, Jeong Si-hyeon. Just crawl into a hole and die.

His forehead dropped toward the desk. Before it struck wood, however, a white hand slid gently beneath, cushioning him.

“Are you hurt, Master?”

The cool, smooth touch of that hand, against the heat of his brow, made him lift his head abruptly.

It wouldn’t have hurt him, not really. But Taewoon’s instinct to shield him—like a celestial maiden—pierced him with pure affection.

So endearing. So good. So proud.

“Let’s buy books!”

His voice rang out, sudden and bright.

Taewoon only nodded, relieved. The stares following them had grown bothersome, especially after Si-hyeon had removed his cap earlier. Better to move elsewhere.

Soon, they stood before the city’s largest bookstore.

Though he’d barely visited such places himself, Si-hyeon strode in with false familiarity. Only a brief hesitation at the escalators betrayed him, before they entered the cavernous interior.

“This place is like another world.”

The lights, the endless smell of paper, shelves stacked sky-high. The low buzz of quiet voices. Taewoon’s excitement outshone even their visit to the Nexus marketplace.

Si-hyeon smiled warmly at the sight.

If only fate had differed—if only he’d grown with loving parents—then surely Taewoon would have carved his name in academia.

‘He needs to start simple.’

Was his disciple literate? Understanding speech was one thing; reading and writing, another. Heading straight for the children’s section, Si-hyeon began piling up books: Korean-language primers, comics, poetry collections, magazines.

Books stacked high in his arms, drawing glances even through his low-brimmed cap.

Taewoon, however, simply spread a faint killing intent.

“…Creepy here, huh?”

“Yeah, like it suddenly got cold. Let’s go.”

As the crowd dissolved, Si-hyeon stacked another volume atop his already overloaded pile.

“These aren’t all for now. Take them slowly—no pressure.”

Satisfied, he slumped into a chair, peering up at Taewoon.

The boy had always devoured martial texts. But these? So different. He feared disappointment.

“Yes, I’ll try. Coming here reminds me of that time…”

“…What time?”

“When you gave me my first book that wasn’t a martial manual.”

Sitting beside him, smiling faintly, Taewoon’s expectant eyes made Si-hyeon’s throat dry.

…What book? He had given him hundreds, manuals and otherwise. To recall one plain, ordinary volume? Impossible.

“…Something educational?”

“Perhaps.”

“…Hmm.”

He probed gently, but met only vague replies. Useless. No help. Finally he gave up.

“…I don’t remember. I gave you so many. Cut me some slack, please.”

“Of course.”

The quiet chuckle rumbled pleasantly.

In truth, it didn’t matter. What he remembered, Taewoon did not. The first book—just a collection of anecdotes, trivial.

But it was the first thing you gave me, Master.

With that memory, Taewoon slipped his arm around his waist, leaning against him with a smile.

Swoosh—

“Ghhhkk!”

The dagger flew, pinning flesh. Si-hyeon leaped, springing from a tree, seizing his quarry’s throat in one grip.

“Let’s keep this simple. Hand it over.”

“N-never! I’ll never give it up!”

Sweat streaming, clutching his bundle, the man shrieked. The dagger jutted from his calf, blood slick down his leg.

“…Damn, not in front of the kid…”

Shrugging, Si-hyeon twisted the struggling arm, subduing him easily. A quick glance at Taewoon, standing silently behind, earned a sigh.

The quest timer was running short. He needed whatever was in the bundle—return it to complete the job.

“My apologies.”

Thud.

His finger tapped a pressure point. The thief slumped instantly into unconsciousness.

“That’s what happens when you steal.”

He picked up the bundle, handing it to Taewoon, and tugged the thief over his shoulder.

“…Remember, Taewoon. Don’t ever steal. Wrongdoing always ends like this. If you want something, tell me.”

Nod.

Following after, Taewoon bobbed his head silently as Si-hyeon checked the contents ahead.

“Good. That’s my boy. And remember—this one’s a fair reward, not theft.”

Leaving the unconscious man and the bundle’s token before the proper house, he scooped up the rest of the reward with casual efficiency.

Though, kneeling there with his bundle, sifting and sorting like a back-alley rogue, he looked every bit the brigand.

Taewoon only hid his laugh behind his hand, pretending not to notice.

Footnotes

Qi suppression: Lowering one’s aura/energy so ordinary people can’t feel it, often draining to maintain.