Ah, That Smug Bastard!
At that moment—that smug bastard! Namgoong Juhee doesn't consider herself cruel at all. In her own mind, she's gentle and merciful.
Her reasoning? She doesn't even count the ones she kills as people in the first place.
Just NPCs. And even then, she only picks off the bad ones, keeping torture and corpse desecration to a minimum. Isn't that merciful enough?
If the hordes of minions and Black Kitchen thugs she'd sent to the afterlife heard that, they'd be shedding bloody tears.
By contrast, Yi Hayeon knows full well how cruel she is.
To become head of the merchant group, she'd killed countless people, directly and indirectly.
And not just killed them clean. She'd sliced open bellies just enough not to be fatal, letting entrails spill out in dangling clumps.
She'd woven corpses into towering stacks and sent them as gifts to traitors' dens—three times, at least.
Her sword alone was infamous as one of the world's most vicious killing blades.
So the saying that circulated in the Eonha Merchant Group went like this:
If Yi Hayeon marks you, bite your tongue and end it right then. The rest of your life will be agony; you'll end up begging for death, and everyone around you will suffer the same.
"……You're the one we saw earlier."
Hayeon's voice was chillingly cold.
Cold enough for lowly third-rate depot guards and instructors to feel it.
The reason? The frost in her tone wasn't infused with inner energy—it was pure rage.
Even a commoner would have shivered and started babbling excuses.
"Just barging into the women's bath is a grave crime for two men. And with your pants off? What kind of joke is this? Care to explain?"
The depot guard and instructor gulped.
They sized her up carefully. Unlike Namgoong Juhee, she carried no sword, and her frame was slender.
Her voice was icy, but no inner energy laced it, and she wasn't charging in—so clearly, no martial arts training.
That was as far as their thinking went. They exchanged glances and nodded.
They figured they could take her.
"You crazy bitch. Who the hell do you think you're yelling at? Do you even know who this is?"
"Calm down, Instructor. She's just some naive girl who doesn't know the world. Doesn't even know what the Divine Yang Sect is."
If the Iron Wind Ghost had been there, he'd have roared with laughter.
Do you even know who this is? You're the ones clueless about the world.
But the Iron Wind Ghost was already a star in the sky, and the only ones left were Yi Hayeon—and Namgoong Juhee, filling his spot.
So Hayeon said nothing. Just smiled lightly.
"I see… Divine Yang Sect. The young master of the Divine Yang Sect, right?"
"Yeah. About time you figured it out. Strip now and beg forgiveness, and… you crazy—!"
Hayeon's form vanished in an instant, reappearing right in front of the instructor.
And in a blink—boom!
"Gaaahhh!"
"Uwaaah! Instructor!"
The instructor's arm dangled, then thud—dropped clean off.
Hayeon bent casually, picked up the sword, and swung it a few times.
Her expression said it was decent enough. The depot guard couldn't hide his shock.
"Ugh… crazy. You crazy bitch."
"Crazy bitch… spot on. Not bad for a third-rate instructor."
"Gaaahhh!"
A grown man's horrific scream.
Hayeon had jammed the sword into his thigh.
"Oh dear. Does it hurt?"
"……."
"No answer? Well then—stab."
"Guuuh!"
"Not mute, I see… Belly or balls next? What do you think?"
"Sorry! We're sorry! We didn't recognize your nobility… aaagh!"
"I asked if it hurts, and you're too dumb to answer? This is a problem."
Hayeon stabbed like she was whacking moles—thunk, squish.
Oddly, wounds piled up, but bleeding stayed minimal. Like his clothes were just shredded.
Another of Hayeon's skills.
The true art of torture isn't in the pain itself—it's keeping them alive.
Inflict maximum agony without letting them die, so you can extract info.
That was torture, and Hayeon was an expert.
"Now, question time. Does it hurt?"
"Gaaahhh! It hu… hurts! It hurts!"
"Aw, poor thing. This one's a bit harsher. Ya!"
"Uwaaah! Nails! My nails!"
"Oh, such a baby."
Hayeon kept peppering him with questions to keep his brain active.
Passing out dulled the pain.
No answer? Stab, or yank a nail.
Avoiding pain was instinct.
Forcing his mind to churn amplified the agony. If only he'd bleed out—but no, the blood wouldn't flow.
Snared by a torture master.
"Oh, where are you going?"
Hayeon stabbed away without slacking her guard on the depot guard.
He might touch Namgoong Juhee—or since he'd been the one pantsless, he deserved worse.
Letting him flee would be a disaster. That was Hayeon's thinking.
"……M-Miss. I didn't do it. Wrong guy."
"Oh? What do you mean?"
"I… I just followed the instructor's orders. He forced the pants off…."
"Young master! What bullshit is that?!"
The instructor bellowed. He was innocent, after all.
Even amid his torment, he'd gestured for the guard to run—a rare decent act for a fiend.
But what came back was pure fiend betrayal.
No wonder his eyes rolled.
"No, hero! It was all him! The young master—no, the depot guard bastard planned it!"
"Instructor!"
"That fucker tried to rape the Namgung lady, and I was stopping him! Please believe me!"
"Oh… what to do."
Hayeon tapped her finger to her lips, pretending to ponder.
She'd kill them both anyway, so what was the point of their nonsense?
She played along because hope made despair hit harder.
A vicious merchant's ploy.
"Miss! Believe me, please!"
"No, miss! Believe me! No need for that old fart's lies!"
A sudden truth battle—with zero truth in sight. Pure fiend style.
Both spinning tales to suit themselves. Tricky even for Hayeon.
If she'd cared about the truth, anyway.
"Alright, decided."
"Then…."
"First, Instructor—you're saying it was all the young master's orders?"
"Yes."
"And young master says the opposite."
"Right."
"Guess I'll have to peek inside."
Huh? Peek inside?
Instructor and guard stared dumbly.
What the hell did that mean?
They'd find out soon enough just waiting.
"Now… does it sting?"
"What are you—guh!"
"Hmm… quite red in there."
Obvious, really.
Cut a body open, and it's full of blood—has to be red.
"Crazy…! You fucking psycho!"
"Bingo? Hold on… gotta check the guts too."
"Uwaaah! I'm dying! Kill me! Help!"
"No, you won't die. Don't worry."
From there, the depot guard's organ showcase went on awhile.
Long intestines first, then liver, gallbladder, heart.
All vivid crimson—truly brag-worthy innards.
If medicine here was advanced, doctors would've clamored for them.
The Iron Wind Ghost up in heaven would've smacked his lips too: Damn, clean heart.
"Next… lungs?"
"Hah… hah… mercy. Mercy, please…."
"Hmm… getting there? Juhee's about to wake anyway."
Hayeon smiled at Juhee.
So improper. Now they'll both owe each other. Juhee likes girls, so finding out a man held her might kill her. And flashing her body to an outsider? No decent match left. If not, join me… oh, scandalous.
Crunch!
Her thoughts heated; her fist clenched unwittingly.
In it: the depot guard's still-beating heart.
He got the death he'd begged for.
"Pity… my skills must be rusty."
"Hiiik!"
"Instructor. Still with us? Not running?"
Hayeon had already pulverized his tendons; Sung Min-gyu couldn't twitch.
Run? He knew she was mocking, but couldn't retort.
Provoke the flesh demon? Who knew what'd happen.
Stay quiet, maybe a quick death. That was his hope.
"Hehe, wise. But no mercy death for you. At least… all your nails. I'll pull every one."
"What…?"
"Sting?"
"Gaaaaah!"
Life doesn't always go as planned, though.
The instructor found peace only when Namgoong Juhee stirred, mumbling about the cold.
About an hourglass—fifteen minutes.
. . .
"Mmm… slept great."
Namgoong Juhee stretched wide and sat up.
No wonder she said it—she'd sprawled out for five sichen, a solid ten hours.
Impressive, since a ton had happened beside her.
Two men tortured to death.
Then Hayeon wiped her whole body with a towel (unavoidable contact ensued).
Cuddled in Hayeon's arms up the stairs, skin-to-skin in one bed.
She slept through all that hardship—a true sleep demon.
"Yi Hayeon's already up?"
But Juhee had no clue.
Hayeon had been awake ages.
Juhee's post-bath memory blanked, so: She must've tucked me in. I'm the best.
Sober Juhee's thoughts ran that shallow.
She headed straight out—starving, after all.
Hayeon'd pay; she'd just feast.
She flung the door open, humming about what to eat today.
"Oh. Juhee, you're up?"
Hayeon smiled there.
Why's she always blood-soaked? Peak realm, not some brawler. Who'd she kill? Got a head in hand… where've I seen that?
Juhee paused, rifling yesterday's memories. The head looked familiar.
Then—smack! Palm to fist.
One line:
"Ah, that smug bastard!"
Like a rom-com opener.
Hayeon's eyes narrowed, pitying a fool.