Chapter 15

It wasn’t that Seogyeom was afraid of him.

Not anymore.

There was only one question occupying his mind.

Is he really a player?

Baek Wonpyeong certainly didn’t behave like one.

If his character window had appeared the way Tang Yu’s had, Seogyeom would have known immediately. But Baek Wonpyeong had already met Namgung Yun several times, so the system didn’t display a separate window for him.

Still, there was one thing working in Seogyeom’s favor.

Baek Wonpyeong’s face was practically his identity card.

The moment Seogyeom saw that slick, shameless face, he knew.

This has to be the Hao Sect Leader.

The White Silver Merchant Guild might have been unfamiliar, but the character himself was unmistakable.

How could I forget the face of one of the most ridiculously overpowered characters in the game?

Baek Wonpyeong had even appeared in the Yoonhyeopji trailer.

Anyone who had played the game seriously would recognize him.

Even so, Seogyeom couldn’t immediately conclude that he was a player.

What if he wasn’t?

If Seogyeom had been in Baek Wonpyeong’s position, he certainly wouldn’t have treated Namgung Yun so casually.

Depending on the playthrough, there were some differences, but Namgung Yun was fundamentally a young master of an orthodox faction.

More importantly, he was a man trapped in an endless cycle of tragic and miserable lives.

Approaching someone like that with the kind of playful familiarity Baek Wonpyeong was displaying was practically asking to become a target.

If Namgung Yun’s suspicions increased any further, Seogyeom’s chances of reaching the ending would only become worse.

Besides…

Baek Wonpyeong is one of the characters players frequently use for surveillance.

Every major character in Yoonhyeopji had a backstory.

Without exception.

Even here, within the Sichuan Tang Clan, there were two people who had spent years wandering the martial world in search of a cure for the Third Young Master.

Baek Wonpyeong was no different.

If a player performed certain actions for him while he was young, his entire character could effectively be brought under their control.

It all depended on timing.

That was precisely why veteran players like Seogyeom had once treated him almost like an extra pair of hands.

“Look at that. Even our young master has frozen up.”

Baek Wonpyeong leaned closer.

“You’re afraid of Great Hero Jo too, aren’t you, Young Master?”

He had mistaken Seogyeom’s silence for fear.

In reality, Seogyeom was simply trying to determine whether the man was a player.

Baek Wonpyeong apparently found his reaction adorable.

He reached out and ruffled Seogyeom’s hair.

Smack!

A sharp crack split the air.

Baek Wonpyeong’s hand was slapped away before it could touch him.

The force was considerable enough that several laborers carrying luggage turned their heads.

“The Third Young Master is simply shy around strangers.”

Namgung Yun’s voice was calm.

“…”

Seogyeom stared blankly at him.

“Are you all right?”

To an outsider, Namgung Yun looked like an overprotective member of the Tang Clan.

But Seogyeom suspected there was another reason for his reaction.

He was probably worried that Baek Wonpyeong’s martial-artist identity might be exposed.

If he touches me, this body’s status conditions will activate.

Seogyeom didn’t want Baek Wonpyeong realizing that he already knew who he was, so he gave a reluctant nod.

“I’m fine. He didn’t even touch me.”

“Ouch… That hurt.”

Baek Wonpyeong shook his reddened hand.

“The young master is right. If I’d actually managed to touch him, then I might have had something to complain about.”

He blinked at Seogyeom as though he’d just discovered an ally.

Then he blew dramatically on his swollen hand.

He looked almost pitiful.

“…We should cool your hand down first.”

Seogyeom swallowed a sigh.

“Come with me. Both of you.”

The swelling would disappear soon enough.

But this gave Seogyeom an excellent excuse to keep Baek Wonpyeong nearby and observe him more closely.

Just then, a servant came running toward them.

He had evidently finished arranging Seogyeom’s quarters.

The color that had drained from his face earlier was slowly returning, but after hearing the commotion from a distance, he’d apparently assumed something terrible had happened to his young master.

Once he came close enough to hear them, Seogyeom summoned every scrap of martial-arts knowledge he possessed.

“Bring some Golden Sore Salve and cold water.”

The servant glanced at Baek Wonpyeong’s swollen hand.

Then he leaned toward Seogyeom’s ear and whispered,

“Do we really need Golden Sore Salve? A little swelling like that should go down on its own.”

Seogyeom fell silent.

Didn’t Golden Sore Salve cure everything?

In the game, it had basically been an all-purpose healing item.

Apparently, reality had other ideas.

“…Actually, you’re right.”

The servant straightened.

“But a distinguished guest shouldn’t be left with a scar.”

Fortunately, the expression naturally fixed on Dang Seogyeom’s face concealed Seogyeom’s confusion.

Before he could figure out what medicine he should ask for instead, the servant had already made up his mind.

“I’ll bring it immediately!”

He bowed deeply and hurried away.

“Young Master Tang really is generous.”

Baek Wonpyeong grinned.

“You act much more like a great hero than Great Hero Jo over here.”

Their exchange with the servant had barely lasted a moment, yet Baek Wonpyeong was already looking for an opportunity to chat again.

He wore a sly smile and put one hand over his chest, extending the other toward Seogyeom with exaggerated theatricality.

Seogyeom resisted the urge to sigh.

He simply continued walking.

Namgung Yun, who had been standing beside him in silence, suddenly slipped an arm around Seogyeom’s shoulders.

It looked natural enough.

But Seogyeom immediately felt awkward.

Namgung Yun wasn’t even putting much of his weight on him.

Still, the contact bothered him.

Seogyeom glanced down at the arm resting over his shoulders.

He meant to subtly indicate that it was uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, Namgung Yun seemed completely oblivious.

Instead, he tightened his arm and pulled Seogyeom closer.

Seogyeom had no choice but to phrase his complaint as politely as possible.

“Brother Jo, I know the way back.”

“Yes. I know.”

Namgung Yun looked down at him as though he couldn’t understand the problem.

“I mean, there’s no need to guide me.”

Seogyeom tried again.

“And I’d appreciate it if you removed your arm. It’s so heavy that I can barely walk.”

Only then did the pressure around his shoulders disappear.

“…The breeze was rather strong.”

Namgung Yun’s answer came a moment late.

“I was concerned you might be cold.”

At that exact moment, a warm spring breeze swept through Seogyeom’s hair.

Cold, my foot.

Namgung Yun was probably just confused by how heavy his arm had felt despite barely leaning against him.

Silently cursing him, Seogyeom took another step.

“Gyeom!”

A familiar voice suddenly called out.

Seogyeom rolled his shoulders as he walked and turned toward the sound.

There stood Tang Yu in the doorway of his residence.

Beside him was the servant, panting heavily.

Apparently, they’d crossed paths while the servant was on his way to retrieve the Golden Sore Salve.

“Hyung-nim?”

Seogyeom blinked.

“What brings you here?”

Baek Wonpyeong’s hand was swollen enough to look unpleasant, but hardly badly enough to warrant the Second Young Master personally coming all the way here.

Tang Yu had apparently noticed Seogyeom’s confusion.

He hurried over.

“Where are you hurt?”

He stopped directly in front of Seogyeom.

“Let me see.”

His eyes traveled over Seogyeom from head to toe.

He didn’t touch him.

But the slight trembling in his fingertips revealed how frightened he’d been.

Seogyeom looked awkwardly toward the servant.

The servant was still panting as he held up a pale-yellow jar.

He pointed toward Seogyeom.

Seogyeom immediately understood.

Tang Yu must have seen the servant rushing for medicine and assumed his younger brother had been injured.

Knowing Tang Yu, he’d probably run over before the servant could properly explain.

Seogyeom smiled gently.

“I’m completely fine.”

He stepped aside.

“The person who was injured is that gentleman over there.”

Tang Yu’s brows drew together.

Only then did he finally realize Seogyeom was unharmed.

“Isn’t that the Second Young Master?”

Baek Wonpyeong stepped forward with a smile.

“My, it has been quite some time.”

Seogyeom expected Tang Yu to tell him to get lost.

Surprisingly, he said nothing.

So Baek Wonpyeong really had done business with the Tang Clan before.

Tang Yu’s expression remained cold.

“I heard you had arrived.”

His eyes narrowed.

“But isn’t this rather earlier than expected?”

Clearly, familiarity had done nothing to soften his attitude.

Baek Wonpyeong gave an awkward smile.

But the smile soon disappeared.

His hand slipped inside his robe.

What is he doing?

Seogyeom craned his neck, trying to see what he was reaching for.

Tang Yu reacted instantly.

He moved Seogyeom behind him.

His eyes became razor-sharp.

His entire body was poised to strike.

If Baek Wonpyeong—or anyone else—made the slightest suspicious move, Tang Yu looked ready to unleash a hidden weapon without hesitation.

Entering the Tang Clan was already dangerous enough.

Reaching inside one’s robes in a place famous throughout the martial world for its hidden weapons was practically an invitation to die.

The only reason Tang Yu hadn’t attacked immediately was because Baek Wonpyeong was presenting himself as a merchant.

A long moment passed.

Finally, Baek Wonpyeong slowly withdrew his hand.

What emerged was not a weapon.

It was a small, elegant casket.

Seogyeom released the breath he’d been holding.

He looked over the container.

It was long and narrow, with an unusual sky-blue sheen.

The glassmaking techniques of this era could hardly have produced anything like it.

Crystal?

Whatever it was made of, it looked expensive.

“That…”

Tang Yu’s voice changed.

“It can’t be.”

The difference between their reactions was startling.

Tang Yu, who had remained composed even while frantically checking whether Seogyeom had been injured, suddenly staggered forward.

Seogyeom instinctively reached out to steady him.

His hand caught nothing but air.

“This…”

Tang Yu’s breathing became unsteady.

“How did you…?”

He forced himself closer to Baek Wonpyeong.

Then his hand slowly rose toward the casket.

His long, bony fingers trembled like leaves in the wind.