Chapter 642
Chapter 642
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 642
Chapter Title: Night City (5)
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1.
The conversation with Yebin had brought considerable gains.
The prosthetic arm crafted by Count Kohab, the loyal retainer of Duke Ererim. He'd even learned that the reason it failed to properly sync with his senses stemmed from some fundamental issue with Si-woo's own body.
However, Yebin was nothing more than a captive herself.
With the equipment available in Fragrant Moon Tower, pinpointing the cause was impossible. For a precise diagnosis, he'd need to undergo a detailed examination in her workshop back in Gehenna.
"It's not serious right this moment, right?"
"Yes, but if the symptoms worsen to the point where they're blatantly obvious, you might have already missed the golden hour."
"I'll be careful."
With the important talk concluded, exhaustion crashed over him all at once.
No wonder—it was 4 a.m. now.
In the past 24 hours, he'd plunged into the labyrinth to battle the Witch of Mercury, gotten thoroughly thrashed by the Sword Witch, been dragged off to Hexennacht for treatment from Yebin, met with the Sword Witch again, and finally been confined here to Fragrant Moon Tower. It was such a grueling schedule that even an energy being like him had nothing left in the tank.
"Yebin, I want to catch some shut-eye. How should I go about that?"
"Ah, that sounds like a good idea. You must be exhausted."
Come to think of it, he'd been told not to go outside, but no one had mentioned which spot to claim as his bed.
Yebin's eyes flicked toward the bedding.
"Want to crash here tonight?"
"Pardon? Then what about you...?"
"Ah, no weird implications. I have to stay up all night brewing medicine anyway. The bed would be empty regardless."
Come to think of it, she might look unassuming aside from her chest at a glance, but their previous one-night stand had been at her seductive urging.
His gaze kept drifting her way.
A casually tied-up ponytail.
Wide hips and ample breasts visible even through her loose dress.
Gentle eyes that seemed like they prayed to the gods every day—unlike lazy, indulgent Dorothy, the Fallen Saint.
And skin so flawless and pale it was hard to believe she was Korean too.
Knowing exactly what lay beneath that thin fabric, and the sounds she made, only intensified it.
Of course, the circumstances were different now.
He couldn't do that sort of thing in a room with zero soundproofing, especially deep in enemy territory.
So Yebin probably meant nothing by it.
Still, the mutual awareness between them stemmed from having thoroughly tangled their bodies together.
Neither Yebin nor Si-woo were the type to coolly forget a one-night stand and move on.
Their eyes met awkwardly for a moment before both looked away.
"I'll wake you at the right time. Get some good rest."
Yebin sat at the table and lit the lamp.
Si-woo sank into the plush bedding.
The coziness melting away a full day's fatigue carried a faint trace of her scent, tickling his nose. Si-woo was sensitive to body odors, but this much lingering on the pillow was well within his tolerance.
"Hoo..."
He suppressed a sigh so as not to worry her.
For all his bold posturing, his concerns were mounting.
His master must be desperately searching for him by now. If word reached Gehenna, plenty of others would worry too. Just a few months after going missing once already, putting everyone through the same anxiety again would be a grave sin.
I'll escape as soon as possible—with some solid intel.
With that resolve, Si-woo closed his eyes.
2.
Yebin had been deeply absorbed in elixir production, all because she'd stuck her nose in and healed Si-woo for the Sword Witch.
Only upon hearing the steady breathing from behind did she drop the pretense of focus.
"......"
A glance back revealed Si-woo's innocent sleeping profile glowing softly in the dim lamplight.
"How long has it been since I last felt this sense of stability..."
Her life as a lone prisoner had offered no one to rely on.
She hadn't even had anyone to talk to, let alone lean on.
The Sword Witch treated her like an annoying weed, and even if she hadn't, she was the last person Yebin could open up to.
Wasn't she the one who'd kidnapped her in the first place?
No walks allowed, future uncertain. Despair had been piling up at the thought she might be trapped here forever.
Then, like a prince on a white horse, Shin Si-woo appeared. Technically he'd been captured too, but did that matter now?
Moreover, half a day after arriving, he'd presented a new option: escape.
That alone felt like it eased two or three knots in her chest.
"Si-woo."
"......"
She whispered his name, fully aware he was fast asleep.
"Si-woo."
"......"
This time louder, but Si-woo was still off wandering dreamland.
Relieved she hadn't woken him, yet inwardly disappointed—it hit her just how lonely she'd been. She'd spent ten years alone in the polar wastes once before.
"Well, back then at least I had Netflix and other streaming friends..."
This place was practically a convent.
And Yebin's "loneliness" clearly wasn't confined to the mental realm.
"Mun Ye-bin, you're losing it."
An impulse struck to slip through the gap in the slightly parted bedding.
She craved his firm body and rough, commanding lead after so long.
A crisis-fueled forced celibacy, combined with a moment's lapse in vigilance, let all that sticky pent-up desire start to flow.
Yebin slapped her cheeks to banish the temptation.
There were limits to carelessness.
She knew better than anyone that now wasn't the time.
3.
The Hour of the Rabbit, when the moon's craters resemble a hare—so they say. Dawn, but the surroundings remained pitch dark.
Only scattered lanterns and granite stone lamps cast a faint twilight glow.
Stepping through the training ground doors revealed Rinne still performing her sword dance, exactly as yesterday.
Had she been at it nonstop since then?
"......"
Apparently so.
Her outfit was the same, her position barely changed.
As long as no one interfered, she'd probably keep swaying there until the world ended.
Spotting Si-woo enter, she halted her movements.
"Follow me."
She roughly wiped the beads of sweat dotting her jaw with a towel, cast a cleaning spell, and took the lead. Si-woo silently trailed behind.
The rear of the training ground connected to a garden.
A serene path, severed from the outside world. Winter cherry blossoms lay scattered between the rough stone pavers.
At the end of the winding trail stood a lone thatched hut, exuding humble detachment in stark contrast to Fragrant Moon Tower's opulence. By now, Si-woo had a good guess at its purpose.
A tea room.
Ducking through the low door revealed a tatami room lit by flickering lanterns—not too dim, not too bright. As suspected from outside, it felt cramped for five people.
"Sit."
Rinne produced a tea set with a gesture, and flames kindled in the sunken hearth at the room's center.
She was preparing to serve tea.
Si-woo knelt properly and waited, observing her amid the rising steam.
The first person Si-woo thought of upon seeing her was Branch Chief Sua from the Wichipoint Gwanghwamun branch.
He wasn't sure about the archaic speech, but she had the vibe of a timeless beauty plucked straight from that era.
Her refined features alone drew an inevitable "worthy of a witch."
Silky flowing hair, neatly trimmed straight bangs.
Snowy skin contrasting her predominantly black attire.
With those feline eyes softened somehow, she might pass for a sheltered maiden despite her thin lips.
Reality was quite different, of course.
Rinne carefully brewed the tea with composed, unflappable poise and offered Si-woo a cup.
"Drink it gratefully."
Si-woo accepted with thanks—faithful to the concept without seeming arrogant.
The frothy matcha was less bitter than expected, fragrant and smooth.
"Did you learn the sword from Tiferet Duke?"
The conversation kicked off abruptly.
Si-woo steeled himself.
Building a rapport with the Sword Witch was far from over.
Being served tea in this tea room—which Yebin had never even visited—scored major points, but one slip in conversation could make her flip in an instant.
"Yes."
"How long?"
"About a year."
He sipped leisurely, feigning nonchalance, but his senses were razor-sharp toward Rinne.
"What of Tiferet's teachings?"
The question he'd anticipated—and prepared an answer for.
His master had bad blood with the public figures.
And Rinne before him was one such figure.
The honest truth would be "deeply respected, incredibly cool, utterly lovable," but for building favor, a dash of deceit was needed.
Even so, badmouthing his master—who'd bestowed immense grace—was too guilt-ridden. That remorse would show through any acting.
So he mixed in a bit of truth.
"Sloppy."
In bed.
"She may excel in battle or magic, but elsewhere she's frail as can be."
Especially her erogenous zones.
"Her teachings have limits."
Why had Rinne abducted him here?
Why summon him to the training ground and serve tea?
Combining the clues, Si-woo formed a hypothesis.
Rinne wanted him as a sparring partner—maybe more. Perhaps even a disciple.
Thus, he subtly signaled his dissatisfaction with Tiferet's guidance.
In Rinne's eyes, Si-woo was the ruthless type who'd discard even a master for strength—perfect for the persona.
Securing the Sword Witch's disciple slot would brighten his future plans immensely.
Sure, he'd have to betray her later, but he wasn't compassionate enough to feel sorry toward public figures in a pinch like this.
"......"
Rinne pondered his words deeply.
Wait—was that a pensive expression?
After a long silence, she finally spoke.
"Tell me. What is a sword to you?"
Instinct screamed: this was a test, decided by his answer.
He hadn't expected such a Zen-like query, leaving him tongue-tied.
Moreover, her blade-sharp gaze—piercing as if reading his soul—ramped up the pressure.
What answer would pass? Could he muster some wuxia master-level profundity?
Time slipped away in his fretting.
His reluctant fallback:
"A sword is just a sword."
A moronic reply.
Masking his interview-fumble despair, Rinne stared at him with utterly unanticipated eyes—frozen in place.
No way... did it work?
"Then what is martial prowess?"
"Martial is just martial."
Building momentum, he answered. Rinne set down her cup.
"An impudent pup who qualifies for the arrogance."
A second smile crept onto her lips—the same as the one she'd flashed confronting his earlier provocation.
"Indeed. No need to heed charlatans babbling 'what is the sword, what is wu.' Entrapment in fancy words blinds you to the essence."
Who knew Rinne could speak so swiftly and at length?
Excited as if afire, she abandoned her cup and shot to her feet.
"To the training ground."
Without waiting, she strode out briskly.
"Phew."
Whatever just happened, it seemed to have gone well.