Is This Real? (4)
One excuse—not quite an excuse, but close enough—about my attempted assassination of Moyong Seol.
Assassination attempts against her don't always end in victory. To be precise, I can only win when she decides to let me. How? When she wills her own body to weaken, becoming so hypersensitive that even a light touch sends her reeling ten or a hundred times more intensely than usual.
Assassination typically means striking down a target who's utterly oblivious. But sometimes, the victim knows full well what's coming and submits willingly. That's exactly what's happening now.
When our lips meet and she wills herself to melt into utter helplessness, I claim victory over Moyong Seol with ridiculous ease. Just like this.
"Hnnng...."
Moyong Seol lay pressed tight against my side, lost in deep exhaustion—not because I'd overpowered her, but because she wanted to drown in those sensations.
If she craved the thrill of utterly dominating me instead, the moment I allowed her lips to claim mine, defeat would be inevitable.
"...Not sleeping?"
While I was lost in thought, she cracked one eye open and murmured.
"Sleep's calling, but it's not picking up."
I stroked her hair as she nestled in my arms, eyes drifting shut in a haze of that lowly triumph I knew might seem crude to some.
"The family head still seems uneasy about you calling him 'Father.'"
"Mm.... Think he'd warm up if we handed him a grandchild?"
"Finally?"
"Not yet."
I'd hoped for a moment she might be wishing for pregnancy, but apparently that was too optimistic.
"A pity. Truly."
"What if getting pregnant means I can't face you head-on anymore?"
"What's that got to do with anything? I'm not some beast in heat denied his mate."
"...Aren't you?"
"Well, yes—but pregnancy changes the equation."
I pressed my lips to her forehead, soothing her.
"Our child will be precious, but so are you."
"Mu-wol...."
"To make 'Father' or 'Father-in-law' stick without backlash, we need the family head in a mood like last time—when I mentioned beating you and he didn't explode."
"......."
"What's wrong?"
"No, it's just... did you tell him how you won?"
"Not that far. It all depends on your whims whether I win or lose against you."
"...Yeah, about that."
She hesitated, lips parting then closing.
"What is it?"
"No, it's... well...."
"If it's hard to say, don't."
"It's not that. It's just... I can reshape myself however I want, but you can't."
"Mm."
She had a point; it did feel a bit unfair. If she willed her body to be ravaged until she passed out first, I could make it happen. But if she craved a full day of it, I'd be wrung dry from dawn till dusk.
Our lovemaking tallied entirely on her terms. My say? They say most men are satisfied after two or three rounds, smug and spent. But once she starts, she demands at least four as baseline.
Yes. As a man, I've long surpassed any voluntary limit, embracing her far more times than I ever could on my own.
The silver lining? My internal energy might lag, but my vitality holds strong enough to endure her—growing stronger by the day, molding her bedroom stamina to her desires.
"You know, Mu-wol... you're getting stronger every day."
"Hm?"
"Even today...."
Her cheeks flushed as her hand trailed up my chest.
"I wanted a pure clash of skill at first, but halfway through, I started wishing to just hold out against you however I could."
"...Huh?"
"You're stronger now than our first time."
"Really...?"
For real?
"You mean that?"
"Yes. To the point where normal methods can't handle you alone."
She blushed deeper, shy.
"It wasn't like this at the start...."
"I'm... growing in that area?"
"Exactly. Don't tell me you had hidden talent there?"
She puffed her cheeks, poking my body.
"You don't think it's just me wishing to last longer out of greed, do you?"
"No."
"...Probably both."
"...Heh."
A chuckle escaped me.
"Tch. That's why I didn't wanna say it."
"But you did."
"Wanna go again? One kiss, and you'll be whimpering."
"Calm down. You've milked me plenty already."
"Hmph."
She clicked her tongue but buried her face in my shoulder. If she'd bared fangs to lick blood, she'd rise renewed to wring me further—but no, she wanted to stay limp in my arms, savoring exhaustion.
"Seriously, it wasn't like this before."
"Then it's fortunate I've become this body."
I pulled her tighter.
"Means I can satisfy you more, fulfill your wishes. Who knows—maybe ten times a day soon."
"Th-that...!"
"A normal man might die from that, but this Seok Mu-wol won't. If my vitality keeps growing to match your desires, what a blessing."
Martial arts? Internal energy? If it fuels her wishes, who needs those? I'm a physician.
Trading arts for stamina might give pause, but if it means more rounds to please her? No contest.
"If that's the miracle tailored for me, I'll humbly accept it. Sincerely."
"...No dream of becoming the world's greatest warrior?"
"My wife's already claiming that title. Why both of us?"
"Mu-wol...."
"But to match that greatest warrior's stamina, I'll need even more vitality."
"That's... fine by me."
She caressed my face, beaming.
"Whenever you want, I can be third-rate against you."
"Cheeky."
"How do you want me?"
She whispered in my ear.
"Dripping sweat with every thrust... delirious, reduced to moans?"
"Wrong order."
"Huh?"
"You panting beneath me like that... ngh."
She grabbed my chin, cheeks puffed.
"You say the filthiest things."
"And you... mm, enough."
Any more, and she'd kiss me, recover, and start round two.
"Ask away if you want. If you'd rather see me gasping under you...."
Oh.
"...Really?"
"Wait. You're just saying 'if,' not offering now—"
"But your body's honest."
Ah.
"...Even more vitality's a problem."
"Hehehe, I like it. More rounds each time means pure skill—"
Just as she sat up, hair gathering into a ponytail—
Thud.
Something heavy hit outside.
"...Father."
Her voice iced over. Her hand shot to the sword by the bed.
"No one else would barge in at this hour. Why interrupt our late-night marital bliss...?"
"Seol. Calm down. He must have urgent business."
"Better safe. Could be anyone."
She threw on an outer robe, sword in hand, and dashed out.
"Who—"
"Your father-in-law."
She burst through the door and faced the Sword Saint at Seongnakwon's entrance.
"Ah, Father. You're here...? At this hour...?"
"It's dawn, but not too late for me."
"Ah, no, of course...."
"......Tch."
The Sword Saint eyed us both, then clicked his tongue.
"Bad timing. Should've waited half a shichen."
He'd noticed. If he hadn't shown, I'd have been milked to near-death by morning.
...Should I thank him?
I could guess most things here, but his true feelings? Elusive.
"What is it, family head? Wait...."
Thump.
My heart raced.
"No way...?"
Behind him, someone dangled midair, impaled on six swords.
"You... killed him?"
"Does it look pierced clean through?"
"......Pardon?"
"They're bent. Subdued, not slain."
His gruff voice pointed to the captive.
"One of Magyo's Ten Demons: Honma."
"......!"
Master of Seophonsul.
"Better if he speaks for himself."
The Sword Saint snapped his fingers. Honma lifted his head, paper mask over his face.
"L-Little Heavenly Demon...!"
He blurted something bizarre.
"To Moyong Family's Little Heavenly Demon, I surrender!!"
"?"
Little Heavenly Demon? Of the Moyong Family?
"Who are you talking to?"
"Little Heavenly Demon, Seok Mu-wol!"
"......Me?"
"Yes!"
What the—
"What about Cheonma?"
"Call it betrayal... but escape favors the smart ones!"
Honma. Master of Seophonsul.
"I pledge full loyalty! Please, take me in! Little Heavenly Demon!"
Seophonsul has always been a secret art mastered by the quick-witted.