Chapter 203
Chapter 203
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 204
Chapter Title: Limit Line (1)
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A new routine had been added to my day.
After Dang Soran finished lunch, I invariably had to brew her tea.
Put the tea leaves in a fine pouch, drop it into the teapot, and slowly pour in boiling water. Done.
Then a fairly calm and gentle fragrance would soon begin filling the room, lingering as long as tea remained in the pot.
Dang Soran sipped her tea slowly, so from noon until evening—a long stretch—I breathed in that scent like air.
Not a bad fragrance at all.
It didn't take long to grow accustomed to it.
At first, though, it was a chore.
"Um, this is too bitter. Brew it a little weaker."
"Ah, this is too mild. Steep it longer?"
I'd never drunk tea myself, so I had no clue what the difference was.
But one thing was clear: she had a precise preference.
At first, I figured she was just messing with me, a bit arrogant even.
But I reminded myself she wasn't my masochist—she was my lady—and followed her orders.
Since I had to fish out the tea pouch at just the right moment, I always hovered my nose over the teapot, gauging the strength of the aroma.
Each time, oddly enough, my body felt like it was heating up. Probably from the hot steam.
And then, on the fourth day.
"Want to try some?"
For the first time, Dang Soran offered me tea.
Maybe because I'd been inhaling it all day for the past four days?
I was curious enough.
The scent was pleasant, and more than that, I'd brewed it myself.
I scratched the back of my head and asked,
"Does it have any effects?"
Dang Soran let out a snicker and set down her teacup.
"What effects would tea have? People drink it just for the aroma. Why? Think the Tang Clan of Sichuan infuses special properties into every blend?"
"You mix the leaves yourself, so I figured there must be something to it."
Miyeok noona had given a strange reaction when I first got the leaves, too.
"It's an unusual combination, sure, but I just blended it because I thought it'd smell nice. No deeper meaning."
"The fragrance is definitely good."
Dang Soran gazed at me for a moment before flashing a mischievous smile.
"But it's expensive stuff. Might not suit a beggar young master's tastes. Better not."
A sudden jab.
"Yeah, probably. A young master with cheap tastes wouldn't appreciate it. Waste for you to touch it?"
"Expensive how expens—"
"Young master already owes me plenty. A whole chest of gold taels, plus my gift. Can't even settle that, and you want to rack up more debt?"
"Even what's going into my mouth counts as debt?"
"Well, not quite..."
I scratched my chin lightly, grabbed a cup, and poured some tea.
The more she told me not to, the more I wanted to.
Dang Soran yelped loudly.
"Ah! I said don't drink it!"
Ignoring her, I poured just a sip and barely wet my lips.
Spicy and warm, but mostly the same sensation as smelling it.
My body heated up.
Since I'd already drunk it, Dang Soran shifted tones and asked,
"...How is it?"
"Not bad."
"That's your whole impression?"
"Not really my style."
"Typical beggar. Do you know how pricey this is!"
Dang Soran shot up from her seat and stomped over to me.
As if it was an insult that I'd barely noticed anything, she filled a cup to the brim.
"Come on, drink again. Drink and give me your thoughts."
"I'm good. Never been big on tea anyway—"
"—Drink up, young master. Since we're at it, I'll teach you tea until you get it. Clan Leader said you need manners. We'll start with the tea ceremony."
"..."
And so I began sharing tea with Dang Soran.
Living with tea perpetually on my lips, like water.
But honestly, I had no headspace for tea or Dang Soran.
Lately, the constant pressure building in my lower body was so uncomfortable I felt like I was dying.
.
.
.
Embarrassed as I am to admit it, I started scouting for opportunities.
Never imagined I'd sink to this—how to sneak one out undetected?
That became my primary obsession.
Like starving with bread right there in your pocket.
Bread you have to eat without anyone catching on.
All day, bread on the brain, eyes peeled for a chance.
The more I dwelled on it, the hungrier I got—a ravenous madness every time the hunger hit.
Cheongwol crossed my mind suddenly.
If Cheongwol were here beside me, could I have held back this urge?
Or would I have confessed it to her first?
Intercourse wasn't even on the table naturally, but there were dozens of ways to relieve it.
The thought sent waves of desire crashing even wilder.
I'd held out so long my lower abdomen actually ached.
...But seriously, how was Cheongwol faring?
No word from her, and I was curious.
Also surprised at how quietly she'd been lying low—more than expected.
She must want me safe that badly.
The realization quieted the lingering fear I still felt toward her, replaced by a sense of endearment.
Anyway, the thought didn't last.
A gust fluttered my pant leg, the stimulation hit again, and I let out a sigh.
Pure torment. Only getting worse.
Felt like I had to get it out somehow.
Personal time? Afternoon breaks and after hours...
"Seojin, whatcha doing?"
"...Ugh."
Lately, some weird servant had glued himself to me.
A guy servant three or four years older. He pestered me during every break, making alone time even scarcer.
"Quit bugging me and beat it."
"Bugging? I'm just sitting here quiet. Got nothing to do anyway—let's chat."
His name was Oh Jeong. Big ears, too.
Damn, couldn't exactly tell him to fuck off so I could jerk it.
This lunatic made snagging a moment impossible.
He didn't even do anything by my side.
Just hung around like he hated being alone.
I'd try slipping away casually, but he'd trail me creepily close.
"Ugh, you're gross! Get lost!"
"Watch your mouth... Just wanna hang, why you gotta be like that!"
Then I'd face Dang Soran after break, forced to suppress the pent-up urge even harder.
"Young master, tea."
"...Haa."
...An unexpected discomfort was gnawing at me.
.
.
.
Shivering, I let out a massive yawn.
Still early dawn, sky a deep cerulean.
Rubbing sleepy eyes, tea leaves from the apothecary in hand, I stood before Dang Soran's quarters.
Before entering her bedroom, I eyed the herb garden blooming nearby.
Hardly anyone around. Dawn, too.
...Just bust one out there on the sly? I was that desperate—beastly thoughts.
"...Crazy bastard."
I thunked my head against her annex to quell the urge.
Perverted as I am, I'm not that kind of pervert. Hold it together, human decency.
Exposure play's for masochists, not sadists.
Lately, fixated on desire, it felt even harder to resist.
Why was this happening?
"...Huu."
To steady my mind, I sat briefly before her quarters. A quick meditation before sunrise. Tried some qi circulation and breath adjustment—still couldn't get the hang of it.
Only when the sky turned clear azure did a voice like jade chimes ring from inside.
'Seojin-ah...'
Shit.
I cursed under my breath.
I'd realized lately: not many women called my name like that.
Ga Yeong-i at the dumpling shop, at best?
No women sought me out on Emei Mountain; if they did, it was "Leather Room Owner."
Once I started earning, briefly Han Seojin—but that was fleeting.
So hearing my name in that coquettish tone felt utterly foreign.
Which was why just that sent blood rushing downstairs again.
Pathetic that a pervert like me crumbled so easily—self-disgust hit hard, but no helping it.
Buddhism be damned; I pictured the Buddha's merciful eyes gazing reproachfully and recited Amitabha dozens of times.
Somehow, it calmed me a bit.
Opened the door, stepped inside, set the tea leaves on the first-floor table.
Sighed, slapped my cheeks twice, and climbed the stairs to meet this brazen masochist wench.
Just imagining her on the ascent had the blood surging back.
Irritated, I bit my lip.
Steeled my mind and faced her.
"Good morning, Seojin-ah."
"..."
I stared at the ceiling, blinked, then approached Dang Soran.
She muttered something at me, but I tuned it out.
Today, too, she melted into my arms.
"...Hehe. So warm."
She whispered.
Ceiling-gazing while holding her led to a slip-up.
I scooped her wrong—her small breasts pressed right against me.
Shit, shit.
No undergarments?
These are breasts, no doubt. Why so soft?
Don't press, you bitch...!
Bit my lip and descended the stairs; faintly, I thought I heard her 'pfft.'
No clue why, but that laugh rooted me in place.
Slowly lowered my gaze to Dang Soran.
She was looking right at me.
Our heads weren't far apart.
Natural, since I was carrying her.
Dang Soran's smile faded slowly.
Before I knew it, our eyes locked solely on each other.
No words.
No motion.
But it felt like our gazes traded a conversation loud enough to split skulls.
If either of us moved first, it'd be like fording an irreversible river—precarious tension.
No telling what swirled in her little head.
"..."
I bit my lip and resumed walking.
Shit, couldn't even jerk off, and now bewitched by Dang Soran?
Crazy? That easy?
Pitiful, I descended the stairs.
Nothing uglier than a sadist who can't contain his urges.
Dang Soran spoke calmly, as if the eye contact never happened.
"Seojin-ah. Craving tea from morning today. Brew it right away?"
"..."
I swallowed hard instead of answering.
Ah. Today was the tipping point.
I settled her at the desk and moved to brew the tea.
The tea's fragrance rising from the hot water suddenly set my body ablaze.
All sorts of depraved fantasies and impulses flooded in with the scent.
"Something the matter?"
Dang Soran asked.
I didn't reply.
She rose and sidled up beside me, whispering,
"...Have some tea and calm down. Whatever it is."
I avoided her face the whole time.
Nodded instead and drank.
.
.
.
How much time passed?
I snapped to: Dang Yeop had dropped by and was playing with Dang Soran.
Role-playing with toys—she'd erased that childlike side she showed me, acting every bit the big sister.
Benevolent. Motherly. Mature.
"Ah! Yeop young master! Save me!"
"Coming!"
In their knight play, Dang Yeop kept up the rescue act.
I watched in silence.
Every time Dang Soran showed that mature side instead of her childish one...
The demon inside me stirred.
The purer and more innocent she seemed, the cuter and prettier anew...
...The urge to defile her welled up.
Wanted to turn this naive girl—clueless to the world's filth—utterly vulgar.
Make her gaze up at me in worship.
Collar her. Dominate her.
Have her eyes brim with pained tears yet ultimately yield for my pleasure...
"Huh!"
I snapped out of it.
Touched my face briefly.
The insane taboo thrill from the fantasy made me realize I'd crossed a line.
Stray too far over taboo's subtle boundary, and guilt crashes in.
Not what I'd meant to think watching her tend to her brother.
I slapped my cheeks over and over.
Dang Yeop and Dang Soran startled, stared at me.
"...Seojin-ah?"
"Need some fresh air."
No waiting for a reply.
I bolted outside. Needed clean air.
****
-Drrk, thud.
Dang Soran watched Han Seojin leave as she closed the door.
"...Huuuuuuu."
Then she exhaled the breath she'd been holding.
She cooled her cheek with the back of her hand.
It burned—her whole body feverish.
"...Sis?"
Dang Yeop voiced his concern, and Dang Soran tugged up her trembling lip corners into a smile.
"Keep going, Yeop-ah."
She feigned composure for her brother, but her body was scorching. She was at her limit.
Even her fingertips trembled without focus.
But just now, she'd confirmed it.
Han Seojin was at his limit too.
His desires had piled up to the brim.
She'd used Oh Jeong to erase his alone time and fed him aphrodisiac-laced passion grass for days.
Slowly upping the passion grass ratio, too.
She felt the aphrodisiac's effects clearly in her own body.
Even she, with her slight herbal resistance, suffered this much—how must Han Seojin fare?
Every morning, nestling into his body was agony; her skin turned hypersensitive.
Every point of contact felt like fire. She'd concealed it with ironclad patience.
Her nipples perked at the slightest brush against him—she'd endured the shame.
She still had some endurance left.
She was used to holding back. Just a bit longer.
Han Seojin would break first.
"..."
A sudden thought struck.
Feeding a man passion grass. Had she always been this perverted?
When had she grown so bold?
But her desires outweighed the guilt.
She wanted to see him undone by her. Spewing urges without restraint.
Losing all control, demanding her endlessly.
She didn't care if he tormented her in the process.
She wanted him to eye her violently—like proof his feelings had overflowed.
Like biting a cute kitten, she craved his bites and blows. Him unleashing violently because he couldn't contain his bursting heart.
Rough. Rougher. He was a rough man originally, wasn't he?
She wanted him to revel in her without a thought for her feelings.
She yearned for the moment his eyes held her—not Cheongwol.
"Sis. You have a fever?"
Dang Yeop fretted, pressing a hand to her forehead.
Had he picked it up somewhere?
Dang Soran smiled, then cried out in mock surprise,
"Yeop young master! Behind you!"
Dang Yeop instantly switched gears, miming a dagger toss backward.
"I protect sis!"