Do You See It? (1)
“Bro, how are you here?”
I figured Namgung Je-cheon would be waiting outside, of course.
“Do I need some special reason to visit my little brother?”
A reason... yeah, probably not. It’s just that nothing like this has ever happened before.
We’re not exactly the type to hang out without one.
You should drop by more often. How can you resist such an adorable little brother?
“Haha! No way. I’m thrilled to see you too, Second Brother.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
Suddenly? This is the first time we’ve ever properly greeted each other since I was born.
“Go where?”
“I had some light snacks prepared on the pavilion over the lake, right on time for you to come out.”
At that moment, my stomach let out a roar.
I’d forgotten again, lost in my daze after passing out.
I haven’t eaten a thing for three days.
But I couldn’t just blindly follow. There had to be something hidden behind those sweet words.
Poison, maybe.
The Namgung Jung I knew never acted without a reason.
What could it be? Why was he waiting for me?
What if... he’s here to torment me?!
“Fish isn’t the main dish on that spread, right?”
“Oh ho! So you like fish, do you?”
“N-no! I’m all about meat. Real men go for meat!”
“Just like Namgung blood. Men are born for meat. I can’t stand those fishy types either. Come on, it should be all set by now.”
“Yes, sir.”
Phew... at least it wasn’t my biggest worry.
Still, what demon possessed this gut of mine? It growled again at the word “meat.”
Wait a second! What the hell am I doing?
Did my brain short-circuit or something?
Let me rethink this. Consider my relationship with Second Brother from a broader perspective.
Meat... juicy pork dripping with fat sounds perfect.
*Sniff.*
Flavorful duck packed with seasoning isn’t bad either.
*Sniiiiiff!*
Hmm... a bit of blood in the beef wouldn’t hurt...
Drool... drip.
Damn it. I can’t think straight.
I’ll stuff my face first, then figure out Second Brother’s real intentions.
He wouldn’t poison his own brother, right?
* * *
Chomp chomp.
I tore into a skewer with my right hand like a beast. My left hand never stopped with the chopsticks.
They scooped up a row of well-marinated duck.
Stuff stuff.
The skewer barely went down before the duck followed.
My skewer hand was empty now. It hunted the next target.
Grabbing spare chopsticks from the side, I swept through the veggies.
The piled-high greens vanished like magic.
Meanwhile, my left chopsticks lifted tender boiled pork, topped it with garlic and sauce, and shoved it straight to my mouth.
At the same time, my right chopsticks snatched clean lettuce and crammed it in.
Huh...
Namgung Jung inwardly marveled at the sight.
If this weren’t just eating, it looked like two Murim masters who’d synced for decades unfolding a joint formation.
The players? My right and left hands, naturally.
Who knew a person could eat like this.
But the real reason for his awe lay elsewhere.
He’d normally just order a subordinate to report.
About the youngest’s true nature.
But he changed his mind.
If the kid was what he suspected, no underling could pierce it.
So he waited himself, an hour early, to judge with his own eyes.
He’d even sent Namgung Je-cheon away despite the risk.
Je-cheon might’ve sensed something, but seeing the kid firsthand mattered more.
And now, the youngest sat before him.
Slurp.
The meats had vanished from the table. The kid, fresh from his dual-chopstick display, slurped noodles heartily.
Namgung Jung’s brow furrowed.
Manners? Or just clueless?
He hadn’t noticed why his brother came personally.
What the hell did Je-cheon see in this brat?
Just a typical immature kid his age.
“Brother.”
Then the kid’s eyes filled with resolve.
Yes! If he had any brains, he’d realize I didn’t come for nothing!
And after stuffing himself like that, even a pig would be full.
Of the spread, Jung had only eaten a few wild greens. The rest? All me.
As Jung pondered serving tea for dessert, I spoke up.
“Can I have more of these, these, these, these... and two more bowls of rice?”
Jung stared at me, dumbfounded.
Piglet...
I scratched my head sheepishly, at least aware of the awkwardness.
“Haha! I’m still kinda hungry...”
“F-fine, go ahead.”
He nodded in disbelief.
“Thank you! Brother!”
I beamed like I owned the world.
Urgh.
Something stirred oddly in his chest.
“Bring more of these, these, these, and these. Two bowls of rice too.”
“Yes, Second Young Master.”
A brief peace settled at last.
Normally, he’d probe the kid now.
“You devoured that stir-fried bean sprouts. Want more?”
Jung couldn’t fathom why he’d asked something so pointless.
But seeing me nod vigorously...
“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!! Love it, Brother!”
That odd chest feeling returned.
He ordered heaps of stir-fried bean sprouts.
I lit up. “Brother, this is awesome!”
“Is it?”
“Yeah! You’re the best, Second Brother! The absolute greatest in the world!”
“You little...”
He’d heard every flattery imaginable.
Each time, it felt like bugs crawling over his skin.
Yet now, a faint smile ghosted his face—unnoticed by him.
The food arrived; I dove back in like it was my first bite.
Ha... total piglet.
Watching somehow filled him with pride.
Then!
Jung focused on my movements.
No, that’s—!
The reason he’d come, skipping his duties.
He’d almost overlooked it.
A truly wondrous sight. Dual-chopstick mastery? Sleight of hand?
The chopsticks danced like living creatures, independent.
So he’s mastered it.
One of the three Wudang arts slumbering in the Manhak Seogo: Yang-ui Simgong.
I was lost in the new food.
Jung slipped his hand under the table unseen, tracing a square with his right fingers, a triangle with his left.
It eerily mirrored my chopsticks gliding over the table.
For now, a snake.
A predator superior to worms.
His brief assessment of me.
Understanding Yang-ui Simgong is easy.
Mastering it in body? Hard.
Embedding it so deeply it flows unconsciously into daily life? That demands true proficiency.
Why Murim folk spend lifetimes refining forms: to ingrain them in the subconscious.
So in crisis, they emerge instinctively.
The line between life and death.
Amusingly, I used it just to eat.
Whether I knew it? Even Jung, watching up close, couldn’t tell.
“Brother, uh... hehe! Haha! Hehe! Huhu! That is...”
But he was still a kid, awkward and green.
Jung’s frown deepened.
Anyone who knew him would’ve bolted.
Normally, he’d erupt.
He hated frustration most.
That’s why he came himself.
Yet oddly...
His mouth said something else.
“More?”
“Almost full now... but these, these, these, these—I think I can manage, hehe.”
“Alright. Hold on.”
He ordered more of what I pointed to.
I flashed another bright smile.
Urgh...
His expression soured, dissatisfied.
Oh crap!
Finally, I realized my blunder.
Big trouble!
I’d forgotten who I was with in the ecstasy of the food.
Before it arrived, I’d sneaked a peek at Second Brother’s face.
Ugh!
Not pleased, glaring.
How could I screw up like this!
Three days’ hunger and insanely good food made me lose my mind.
I’d instinctively played cute, but unconsciously... obsessed with filling my belly.
Come to think of it, this was the second time.
Was I always this gluttonous? No way.
Even pre-regression, I never ate this much.
Unbelievable!
No matter my martial goals, bad blood with brothers wouldn’t help.
I need to be the cute maknae they adore!
If we’re fighting anyway, better not end with a hole in my gut!
Late grin. “Hehe.”
*Buuuurp~~*
Fuck! Dammit...
A thick belch escaped right then!
Why does my stomach digest so damn fast?
My face burned red.
Second Brother’s brow furrowed deeper.
Food arrived, table reset.
Like a beggar in my belly.
The hunger I’d just felt vanished.
Driving me mad.
Hands trembled before the food. Mind blank.
They moved on their own, grabbing chopsticks.
Consciousness blurred; I devoured again.
Chomp chomp.
Ha.
Not surprising anymore.
Jung reflected on himself.
Charm technique?
The subtle emotion in his chest.
“Hehe.”
I paused mid-bite, grinning innocently at him.
A first in his life.
Who’d dare grin at Namgung Sega’s second young master with a mouthful of food?
Amazing.
He should’ve smacked my open mouth.
Interrogated me.
What I was hiding.
Before death’s terror, all equal.
Yet he couldn’t.
It lasted through three more rounds of sides and rice.
Finally, the table cleared; tea arrived.
“Thank you, Brother.”
I’d eaten like a maniac. Now, finally full.
I wouldn’t normally go this far. Today’s me was weird.
Possessed, for sure.
“Ahem. Full now?”
Second Brother cleared his throat, voice grave.
He’d sat waiting through my feast.
Probably furious.
I answered quick. “Yes! Yes! *Cough!*”
Tea caught in my throat—coughing fit.
And it sprayed... on his face!
“*Cough cough!*”
It kept coming.
“Tsk tsk. Drink slower.”
Huh?
I expected rage.
“Sorry. Went down wrong. Anyway, you must be busy—why’d you wait for me, Second Brother?”
“To see you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Slurp.
He sipped tea; mouth dry midway.
Uh, that’s got my spit on it.
Keep it secret.
“You learned Yang-ui Simgong in the Manhak Seogo.”
That instant—
*Cough!*
Tea stuck again.
“Tsk tsk. I said slower.”
And then...
“Uh...”
I couldn’t think.
“B-Brother?”
“What?”
“Th-thank you.”
Namgung Sega’s second, Namgung Jung.
Known as the coldest man alive.
Nicknamed the three-headed snake.
Meaning a venomous serpent that kills anything.
Yet...
“Ahem!”
He handed me the handkerchief he’d used to wipe my face, then sat back.
“Clumsy. Carry one next time.”
“...Yes.”
I mumbled, stunned.
What the hell is happening right now?