Chapter 129: What Kind of Dream Are You Dreaming While Drunk?
Chapter 129: What Kind of Dream Are You Dreaming While Drunk?
I arrived at Huangquan Pavilion the following day.
The investigators and enforcement warriors, seeing me for the first time in a while, welcomed me with fervor. Morale was soaring; news that I had captured one of the Drunken Demon’s subordinates had clearly spread like wildfire.
My office was as well-organized as the day I left. Seeing the flowers in the window box thriving, it was obvious that Seo Dae-ryong had been tending to the place with meticulous care.
“Bring me everything that’s been backed up.”
“I figured you’d say that, so I’ve already prepared them. These are the matters that require your personal attention, Pavilion Master.”
I expected a mountain of work, but the stack of documents Seo Dae-ryong handed over was smaller than anticipated.
Upon inspection, I saw that he had handled almost everything himself, leaving only the absolute essentials for me. It struck me once again that, at least when it came to the administrative affairs of Huangquan Pavilion, he was more capable than I was. And since he was learning martial arts from the Blood Heaven Blade Demon, I had nothing to worry about on that front either.
You’re coming along nicely, my future successor.
Of course, Seo Dae-ryong had no idea I was thinking such things.
Just then, another investigator entered the room carrying a box.
“A delivery for you, Pavilion Master.”
“Who sent it?”
“It’s from the Drunken Demon.”
He sent something right after I captured his subordinate? I had been asking the other Demon Lords about him, but it seemed he had made his move before I could make mine.
The investigator set the box down and bowed out. As I reached out to open it, Seo Dae-ryong suddenly shouted.
“Be careful!”
“Startled me! What is it?”
“What if a cloud of poison gas erupts? ...Or so I was going to say, but that’s unlikely. He wouldn’t try to kill you over a subordinate who caused a fatal accident while driving a carriage drunk.”
“Obviously. If anything, I almost died of a heart attack because of you.”
I opened the box to find a single liquor bottle inside.
“He sent alcohol.”
The moment I lifted the bottle, I paused.
“No, he didn't send alcohol. He sent a bottle.”
The bottle was empty.
“Is it perhaps a rare piece of porcelain?” Seo Dae-ryong asked, leaning in.
“It’s just a common bottle you can find at any market.”
“Then why would he send a cheap, empty bottle to you? Is he trying to pick a fight?”
It was a predictable reaction. But why send an empty bottle?
“This is the Drunken Demon’s warning. He’s telling you to release his man.”
“If that were the case, he would have sent a broken bottle. Or a blade.”
“Then why send it?”
“Is there any need to agonize over it?” I stood up abruptly.
“What are you going to do?”
“What else is there to do with the Drunken Demon?” I grabbed the bottle and walked out of the office. “I’m going to have a drink.”
*
With the bottle in one hand, I entered the Great Drunken Forest, the domain of the Drunken Demon. Since I had sent word of my visit in advance, a martial artist was already waiting to receive me.
I followed the guide deep into the woods.
Houses were scattered throughout the forest—everything from simple huts to grand manors. The variety of structures gave the place a beautiful yet unconventional atmosphere.
Small and large breweries were tucked away in every corner of the Great Drunken Forest. Drunkards sat on wooden benches drinking, and some were even sprawled out on the ground, completely passed out. Viewed charitably, it was a place of absolute freedom; viewed cynically, it was a total mess.
However, I knew better. While their numbers were fewer compared to the subordinates of other Demon Lords, the people gathered here were exceptionally skilled. The gazes of those who appeared drunk were, in fact, anything but ordinary.
In the center of the Great Drunken Forest lay a lake. On a small island in the middle of that lake stood the pavilion where the Drunken Demon resided.
I headed toward it on a small rowboat. The martial artist who had escorted me dropped me off at the island and rowed back without a word.
I walked slowly toward the pavilion. At the entrance, a woman stood with the door open, welcoming me.
“Welcome, Young Master. I am Yeo-bin.”
She had a refined, elegant aura, but she was a master who belonged to the Three Great Drunkards, much like Gu Ma-yeong.
“The Demon Lord is waiting. This way, please.”
I stepped inside. She led me to a terrace named the Drunken Dream Pavilion. When I ascended the stairs, I found the Drunken Demon.
He was leaning back in a plush, fur-covered chair, seemingly fast asleep.
The place reeked of alcohol and was a disaster. Dozens of bottles were strewn everywhere—some toppled over, others standing upright.
But I could feel it. These bottles weren't just lying around randomly. I felt instinctively that if a fight broke out here, every single one of them would become his weapon. They could even be triggered as part of a formation. It was a mess, yet it wasn't a mess at all.
The One Flower Sword Venerable had described him as unassuming, while the Extreme Evil Smiling Demon had called him unpleasant. Now, he was showing me a new side: a man lost in a drunken slumber.
Drunken Demon, what kind of dream are you dreaming while drunk?
I stood for a moment, watching the sunlight sparkle on the lake behind him, before taking a seat about ten paces away. I placed the empty bottle I had brought in front of me.
Sensing a presence, the Drunken Demon slowly opened his eyes.
The Great Drunken Demon, Song Sa-hyeok.
He was young and handsome—considered one of the most attractive men in the Cult. He possessed a youthful face that made him look much younger than his actual age. He looked as though he hadn't shaved in a few days, but the stubble made him look ruggedly masculine rather than unkempt—a perk of being handsome.
As soon as he opened his eyes, he took a drink from a bottle beside him and asked, “Care for a glass?”
His current face overlapped with the last image I had of him before my regression—the image of a man wasted away until he was nothing but skin and bones.
When I had returned to the Cult to gather materials for the Great Regression Art, the Drunken Demon was still alive. But he was barely clinging to life; it wasn't a life worth living. He had been bedridden, suffering from a long-term illness. At the time, the Demon Doctor had diagnosed it as a disease caused by excessive drinking.
The Drunken Demon, dying of drink?
It had shocked everyone and became a source of mockery for those who disliked him.
— Care for a glass?
Those had been the first words he spoke to me while lying on his sickbed. His first words to me now were exactly the same. As those words echoed in my mind, his current, vibrant self merged with the memory of his sickly face.
“It’s a liquor you’ll like,” he added.
“I’m fine.”
As if he had no intention of forcing it on me, he drank alone.
“Why did you only visit me now? Am I that unpopular among the Eight Demon Lords?”
“The protagonist always makes his entrance at the very end.”
“Am I the protagonist of your story?”
“I am the protagonist of my own story. You, Lord Drunken Demon, will be either an ally or an adversary. What about in your story? What role do I play? Is my brother your ally? Or is it me?”
The Drunken Demon stared at me intently, then asked a question instead of answering.
“Do you like alcohol?”
“There was a time when I did.”
“And now?”
“I drink enough to match the mood of a gathering.”
“You speak with the weight of a long history, despite being so young.”
I shot back confidently at his dismissive tone. “Is a young man’s history not a history at all?”
The Drunken Demon laughed. Seeing such a handsome man laugh, my first thought was that he must have broken quite a few hearts.
“What kind of alcohol do you like?”
“I haven't drunk enough to develop a specific preference. I prefer something easy to drink over harsh spirits.”
He was testing me through these questions about alcohol. His gaze shifted to the bottle sitting in front of me.
“What did you fill that bottle with?”
“Why do you assume it’s alcohol? It could be water, or it could be poison.”
At my answer, he smirked and poured himself another glass. He didn't ask me to pour, and I didn't offer.
“Why do you think I sent an empty bottle?”
“Who knows? Maybe you sent it just to get me to come here and ask.”
“How did you feel when you received it? Be honest.”
“Honestly? You won't like it.”
“It’s fine.”
“Forget it. You’ll definitely get angry.”
“I promise I won't. If I get angry, I’ll just drink. We have alcohol, don't we? Go on.”
“I thought: What the hell is this bastard playing at?”
The Drunken Demon flinched for a split second, then immediately downed his drink.
“Excellent!”
When he set the glass down, he looked genuinely pleased.
“This is why I love alcohol. You drink, you forget everything, and you feel good.”
He spoke as if he had finished a whole bottle, though he’d only had a glass.
“If it annoyed you that much, why did you come?”
“Because it’s an opportunity to see what kind of person you are. Are you someone I can accept? Someone I can achieve great things with? Or are you just a drunkard?”
The Drunken Demon’s Demonic Energy began to leak out—a sensation I had never felt before. It was as if his energy was laced with the essence of liquor; the moment it enveloped me, my head spun as if I were intoxicated.
I activated the Heavenly Demon Body Protection Art. The dizzying energy vanished, and I regained my composure. When my gaze remained steady, a flicker of surprise crossed the Drunken Demon’s face.
“Lord Drunken Demon, do you like alcohol?”
When I managed to endure his pressure and even throw a question back at him, he withdrew his Demonic Energy.
“Do I like alcohol? Is that a question you ask the Drunken Demon?”
“Isn't it precisely because you are the Drunken Demon that I must ask?”
“What do you mean?”
“You should ask a martial artist if they like martial arts, a musician if they like music, and a painter if they like painting. You should ask the owner of the Pungryu Tavern how they feel about selling liquor. But shouldn't you ask those people that question at least once? Now, I ask again. Do you like alcohol?”
“...!”
The Drunken Demon’s expression openly screamed, Look at this kid.
“You are truly a different person than the rumors suggest. I admit it. Of all the people I’ve met, you are the one who least resembles your reputation.”
“I hear that far too often. I don't know who’s spreading those rumors, but I should find them and give them a piece of my mind. If they’re going to spread rumors, they should at least do it right.”
“I see I’ll need to be drunk to deal with you. It’s too difficult while sober.”
“Shouldn't you have kept that thought to yourself?”
“It’s not like drinking is some grand ordeal.”
He drank several glasses in quick succession.
“What kind of liquor is that? I assume it’s something hard to find on the outside?”
“That’s one of the prejudices people have about me. I can drink anything.”
As if to prove it, he flicked his glass toward me. The glass drifted slowly through the air and hovered right in front of my face. I caught the scent of the liquor.
“Ah, this is...?”
“That’s right. It’s the house wine from the Pungryu Tavern you frequent.”
It was his way of saying he had been watching me.
“I’ll set aside my prejudices then.”
He was also the one to retrieve the glass. The glass tilted in mid-air as it returned to him, and he opened his mouth to catch the stream of liquid. The empty glass landed softly on the table. It moved so smoothly that it didn't make a single sound.
Just by watching his display of telekinesis, I could gauge his skill. It was a move so clean it made one wonder how a drunk man could possibly perform it.
“You’re impressive yourself. To recognize the wine from the Pungryu Tavern just by the scent.”
“It’s only because that’s the only place I’ve been drinking lately. But surely you, Lord Drunken Demon, are the one who knows every taste in the world by scent alone?”
“How could I possibly know all the many wines in this world?”
Despite his humble words, the Drunken Demon was famous for identifying any alcohol by its smell. He drank again. The more he drank, the more his face flushed. I had thought someone of his caliber could drink a lake’s worth of liquor without changing color, but his face turned noticeably red.
“Drinking makes you feel good. Don't you agree?”
“It depends on who you’re drinking with.”
“Alcohol tastes best when you drink alone.”
“I don't know that world well yet.”
“What a shame! To not know this heavenly pleasure!”
That was a lie. During my days as a ronin, I had spent many nights drinking alone. Back then, alcohol was my friend, my escape, and my sanctuary. It was also the demon that tempted me toward destruction.
“You should have learned to drink from me! From the Drunken Demon himself.”
“You’re right. My father taught me poorly. I’ll be sure to tell him that when I see him tomorrow.”
Knowing it was a joke, the Drunken Demon laughed and took another drink. As he became more intoxicated, his body began to slump. He acted exactly like an ordinary man who had had too much. He even spilled some of his drink. It was hard to tell where the reality ended and the act began.
He seemed completely off-guard, but I didn't believe for a second that he was. In fact, this was likely the most dangerous moment to face him. To fight him, one would first have to sober him up.
“Come to think of it, I suppose it was another prejudice of mine to think the Drunken Demon would have an infinite capacity for alcohol.”
“Because I am the Drunken Demon, I drink in moderation. Only those who don't understand alcohol drink themselves into a stupor.”
“Well said.”
“Young Master Lee, have you ever fought while drunk?”
“I haven't.”
“Try it. It’s truly magnificent. It eases the tension and dulls the fear. It even makes the pain hurt less. It’ll probably boost your combat power by thirty percent. I suspect all the great masters in the history of the Murim fought while drunk.”
He glanced at the bottle sitting before me.
“So, drink. The alcohol will give you strength. It will comfort you.”
Finally, I picked up the bottle I had brought. I slowly uncorked it.
“I don't think it will.”
The moment the aroma of the liquor wafted out, the Drunken Demon, who had been practically reclining, bolted upright. It was a scent he recognized.
I didn't drink. I simply set the bottle back down and spoke flatly.
“Because I know all too well... what the heart of a man lost in drink is truly like.”