The Hidden Master and Her Disciple (1)
"Have you been here all alone?"
At the sound of my voice, the woman sitting so elegantly turned her head. Like a single flower blooming beautifully atop a barren cliff, she was a stunning beauty who seemed utterly out of place in this rundown mountain cabin.
Even with her long hair tied up in a single bundle and secured with a hairpin, the silky texture shone through. The nape of her neck, exposed by the updo, was clear and snow-white, exuding a charm that stirred any man's heart. Peerless beauty, nation-toppling allure, a beauty that brings calamity to the state... Ah, that last one might not be so flattering. In any case, she was the kind of woman who fit every classical idiom for feminine perfection.
"Master."
She was the owner of this shabby, unremarkable cabin—and my master, who had taken me in, raised me, and taught me everything I knew.
Turning to face me, Master removed the pipe from her lips ever so slightly. Technically, it was called firegrass, but it was just tobacco all the same. She smoked, yet due to her unique constitution, it had no effect on her whatsoever. She never got addicted, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why she smoked every day. Not that it mattered.
"What is it, my disciple?"
Even smoking looked graceful on her. Whatever she did was just Master.
"You look like you have something to say."
"Yes."
"Speak, then."
Master always listened patiently. No matter how foolish my words, she'd brush them off with a light laugh. For example...
"Your unworthy disciple has once again dreamed indecent dreams of Master this morning."
"...Indecent? What kind of dream was it, dreaming of this master? Tell me the details."
"The kind people call 'wet dreams.' It's too explicit to describe outright, so I can't really explain. But if you absolutely need to know, I can try."
"...You're saying you had a wet dream thinking of this master?"
"Yes. Please forgive me."
Even when her hopeless disciple confessed to such lewd fantasies about her very person, she'd just laugh it off. That's how much she loved me.
"Heh... My disciple is..."
Master's hand drifted to her waist. With a cold smile, she said,
"Starting at the crack of dawn with words you shouldn't dare utter to this master."
See? Laughing it off again.
"Looks like you need a good thrashing to straighten up."
She merely drew her sword from her waist.
HAKODATE KARIN
The honorable name of my master who had cared for me. As the name suggested, Master wasn't from this world. She was one of the "Transmigrators" who had come from another—specifically, from Japan.
This world was home not just to ordinary folk, but also to "Transmigrators" and "Reincarnators." Transmigrators were those like Master, pulled from other worlds. Reincarnators were souls who had lived their previous lives elsewhere, reborn here with memories intact. If you never recalled your past life, you were just a regular resident. Remembering set you apart.
Thanks to my own memories, I knew of a place called Japan. Surprisingly, my past life had been in the same world as Master's. The end was hazy, but I remembered being born male in Korea, dying young in an accident. Now, reborn here.
This life had been rough from the start—abandoned almost at birth. Who knows what my parents were thinking; maybe they had their reasons. Master found me by chance at the mountain's base and took me in. She noticed I wasn't crying like a normal baby and suspected I was a Reincarnator.
Anyway, Master was a Transmigrator, and I a Reincarnator. She'd arrived here before even turning twenty. A young girl suddenly in another world—she must have been lost. Transmigrators gained a "Blessing" upon crossing dimensions, letting them live extraordinary lives... but Master's was sadly useless for survival.
Blessing of Eternal Life.
Just as it sounded: immortality, no aging. Some might call it a cheat ability, but what good is eternal life to a teenage girl dropped into a strange world, struggling to eat? Immortality with invincibility might've helped. As it was, she suffered greatly at first. This world was dangerous; not fit for a lone young woman.
Yet now, she was one of the Palstar Heroes, hailed as the Sword Star—humanity's pinnacle. Life was unpredictable.
Taken in by such a master, I was raised with utmost devotion in this humble cabin. For twenty whole years, despite her fame, she secluded herself here solely for me. How moving.
Of course, I wondered why a hero insisted on this bug-infested shack, nearly killing me with bites as a kid... but how could I question my lifesaver? I survived a centipede's venom thanks to her folk remedies. Fine.
The cabin wasn't ideal for raising a child, but Master wasn't doing it for fun—or neglectfully. I felt her profound love. With my past-life memories, I wasn't so dense as to miss it. She loved me like a parent; I grew basking in it. When that accident happened, tears streamed from her obsidian eyes.
Our bond was unbreakable. Which is why, even now...
"Disciple."
"Yes, Master."
Master had drawn her sword, yet here I was, alive. Without our bond, would that be possible? Surviving the Sword Star's blade proved her affection.
Though I'd been thoroughly beaten and lay sprawled.
With a light sigh, Master tapped my shoulder with the scabbard.
"When this master says 'one,' bend your elbow and say 'I shall never again.'"
"Yes."
"When this master says 'two,' stand and say 'I shall harbor no lewd thoughts toward my heaven-like master.' Got it?"
"...Master."
"What is it, disciple?"
I lifted my head sharply. Through the fluttering kimono, I glimpsed Master's smooth thigh. Shadows hid it somewhat, but it couldn't conceal that alluring, plump perfection. Boldly staring, I declared,
"Your unworthy disciple cannot promise that."
"...What nonsense is this? Are you claiming your actions are justified?"
"I know it's sinful to have irreverent thoughts about Master's person."
"Then why such blasphemy?"
Master eyed me like she knew exactly why, but what she demanded was truly impossible.
"Yet Master, I am a man."
"Think this master doesn't know? I bathed you myself when you were little."
"Then it's easy to explain. Master, men can't help themselves before a beautiful woman."
"...What?"
"It's sinful, yes. But as a man, how can I see Master's beauty and feel nothing? Especially when you wander about so scantily clad—how could my mind not fill with impurity?"
"...Hah."
Flustered, Master gathered the draped cloth over her arm. Too late. Irrelevant, anyway—I'd been staring lower.
Finally noticing, she yanked her underskirt. No more tantalizing thigh. Regrettable, but unavoidable. Her gaze held a hint of disdain, yet I stood firm.
"In the end, my dreams are partly your fault, Master! Before demanding promises from me, you should stop tempting me first!"
"...Tempting you?"
"Yes."
I'd avoided such irreverence, but with her ample bosom, wide hips, thighs begging to be embraced, slim waist—she was sculpture-perfected. Flaunting it? Pure temptation. My dream was her fault too.
"Disciple."
"Yes, Master."
"This master may look young and beautiful, but do you know I've aged raising you? Age means little to me, but think: wouldn't it disgust you if a two-thousand-year-old elf bedded a barely twenty human?"
"Of course. Such a vile thing deserves prison for child molestation."
"Yet you think this master tempts her much-younger disciple?"
"On second thought... maybe. Your unworthy disciple was shortsighted. What does age matter in love?"
"Heh."
Master chuckled lightly—more scoff than laugh, but a smile nonetheless. Her hand gripped scabbard and hilt; with a shing,
"...This mad disciple needs another beating to come to his senses."