“Your body feels like a ball of fire.”
As he gazed down at Mok-young’s slowly blinking eyes, Hae-gang’s hand cupped Mok-young’s face a little more firmly. One of Mok-young’s cheeks was nearly buried in the unexpectedly large hand. Mok-young’s lips parted as if to say something, but then he knitted his brow, closed his eyes again, and simply breathed out ragged, gasping breaths.
At this moment Hae-gang could feel Mok-young desperately holding something back. He was clenching his jaw so hard that the joint jutted and twitched, and the tremor traveled plainly through Hae-gang’s palm.
What a truly beautiful face.
Looking down at his wife’s handsome face — flushed with heat and twisted in a scowl, though Mok-young thought of himself as fierce and forbidding — Hae-gang thought it, artlessly. In this moment he was utterly captivated by the sensuality his wife radiated.
Never in his life had Hae-gang encountered such strong energy, such strong scent, such strong heat. Mok-young was a being of absolute yin — one from whom he would have expected nothing but endless cold — yet Hae-gang felt heat from him stronger than his own. But this could not simply be called “hot.” It was like a mass of primal desire. Where it touched his skin directly, the sensation was cool, yet the energy hovering around the point of contact burned.
Yang reached for yin, and yin reached for yang. Hae-gang was stepping, one step at a time, into the ring of endless mutual longing that wove them into a single circulation.
“……Move.”
Mok-young barely managed to lift a hand to grasp Hae-gang’s wrist, then spat out that one word. It was a phrase that recalled another time. And as ever, Hae-gang did not do as he was told.
“You need me.” Hae-gang spoke, gazing deep into Mok-young’s eyes, where a fierce wariness flickered uneasily. As their eyes met, Hae-gang’s hand gently re-cupped Mok-young’s face, his thumb pressing and tracing slowly over the cheekbone beneath his eye. The corners of Mok-young’s eyes twitched, and when Mok-young tried to turn his head away, Hae-gang let go surprisingly easily — only for that hand to slide down and take hold of Mok-young’s nape.
The heat against his hand was considerable — enough to surprise even Hae-gang — yet strangely, his hand seemed to have melted and stuck there, unwilling to leave. Strength flowed into his gripping hand, and Hae-gang’s head tilted sideways, following Mok-young’s gaze.
“If you want to hurt me, then do so. I must give you what you need.” Hae-gang’s words sounded, at first hearing, devoted. Mok-young’s body craved yang energy, and Hae-gang would give it — so if Mok-young hated it that much, he could hurt him and drive him off. Beneath the words, Mok-young knew, lay an unyielding resolve not to back down no matter what.
“Who— who said I needed it? Enough. Get away from me. I don’t need it!” At Hae-gang’s words, a surge of inexpressible emotion welled up in Mok-young and he shouted, pushing himself upright. An emotion — anger, or grievance, he couldn’t tell — pounded in his chest. He shoved Hae-gang’s shoulders hard with both hands — Hae-gang had been so close their breath mingled — and though the recoil nearly tipped him backward and he swayed precariously, Mok-young steadied himself and sat upright. But he was too breathless to speak further or to climb off the bed.
*Damn it. What was this wretched body of his doing?* For all that he was the supreme master who had perfected the Hyeonsin Art, when the heat cycle came upon him — when his yin energy grew too strong — he found himself powerless against it. Worse, his yin energy seemed especially affected by this yangin man before him, and the helplessness brought on a wave of self-loathing. He had never imagined that Hae-gang’s body might harbor the essence of a divine beast like his own, which made it worse. Not that he would have accepted it meekly had he known — but at least he wouldn’t have felt such crushing shame born of helplessness.
In truth it was worse because Hae-gang’s words had struck home. The moment Hae-gang’s hand touched his cheek, Mok-young had felt a pounding so strong it was as if his heart dropped. Perhaps the heavy knot of emotion that had gripped his chest just now had been born of that. Ever since, his heart had kept pounding — thump, thump, thump — as if it would burst. That was why he hadn’t been able to refuse Hae-gang’s hand slipping through the blankets.
It was hot. Mok-young’s cheek burned as if it would scorch from the fire, yet within that heat a strange gentleness bloomed, and his whole body felt as though it might melt away. Mok-young could tell that his instincts, his primal longing, were in that instant being soaked through with that yang energy. And so, drawn by Hae-gang’s touch until they faced each other, Mok-young realized that this heat cycle was evolving in a different direction than usual.
Even the pain he usually felt had gone colorless. This body, which should have ached as if its flesh were being flayed by the mere brush of cloth, felt none of that under Go Hae-gang’s touch. Where his skin was pressed, only a faint, tingling thrill spread; far from pain, he felt warmth seeping slowly beneath his skin, as if soothing the pain away.
It was a wondrous phenomenon. But fear struck at the same time. With the pain gone, only sensitivity remained. As though… he wanted to feel more of this man’s touch. It was as if the black maw of an abyss of ruin had gaped open, depthless, a single inch before him.
No. This can’t happen.
*The moment I join with this man, something truly irreversible will happen.* At the thought, Mok-young dragged his stumbling body somehow to the edge of the bed and set foot on the floor. His body would not obey his will. His legs, always so steadfast, were heavy as a thousand catties in this moment and would not bear his strength properly. Hae-gang’s yang energy was intense, but the fierce yin energy surging within Mok-young had tasted the yang energy drifting from Hae-gang and seemed to run wilder still.
*I want to take it all in. This man’s yang energy.* Mok-young’s yin energy shook him with its greedy longing. So harsh was the burden of a human daring to harbor the power of a divine beast. Some had to eke out their lives day by day; others had to have the very foundation of their lives put to the test.
“Moving like that is dangerous.”
Hae-gang, who had been quietly watching Mok-young throw him off and try to flee the bed, rose. And just as Mok-young was about to stand, Hae-gang wrapped one arm lightly around his lurching body and warned him softly.
How was a sick man who might not live out the year so strong? Hae-gang bore the weight of Mok-young’s body — a trained warrior over six cheok tall — without any difficulty at all. Having seen with his own eyes that Hae-gang’s Juyang Divine Art had reached the utmost realm, it was hardly surprising.
Come to think of it, Hae-gang’s frame was fine — finer than his slim silhouette suggested. He was tall, of course, but the bones themselves were extraordinary, a fresh reminder that he was an extreme yang person. Though for such a build, he was on the thin side. Which was convincing enough: an extreme yang person this thin must indeed be gravely ill.
And yet. And yet… *this man says he will give me his yang energy?*
*When his life already hangs by a thread, does he mean to die?* To dare offer to fill the yin energy of one marked with the seal of Hyeonmu — did he know where that would end? Mok-young let out a hollow laugh without meaning to. In this moment he understood that Hae-gang’s words — *hurt me if you must, I will give you my yang energy* — held not mere lust, but will and resolve.
Mok-young’s body grew heavy and slumped, his back coming to rest against Hae-gang’s chest. Mok-young’s hand settled atop Hae-gang’s arm, which held his waist tight as if cradling his belly. A heat of a different order than a mere hand cupping his face flushed through his whole body in an instant, and Mok-young squeezed his eyes shut and let out a hot breath — *haa*. His body seemed already to have begun responding to this man.
No — perhaps it had been so all along, and having stubbornly pressed it down, his body was already past ripe.
“What… what are you, really?” Mok-young asked. The voice that asked the question was low and hoarse, drained of strength. There was a note of resignation in it too. He could no longer push this man away, nor even grasp a single thread of what manner of man he was.
Hae-gang lifted his other arm too, wrapping Mok-young fully in both arms and pressing their bodies closer. Hae-gang’s face was already deeply flushed, and the hot breath from his mouth tickled Mok-young’s nape. As the yin energy within Mok-young’s body churned, now the yang energy within Hae-gang’s body churned too, and Hae-gang could hesitate no longer.
*I want it. This man’s yin energy.* As Hae-gang — as Hae-gang’s yang energy — showed its hunger, the arms holding Mok-young tightened further. Hae-gang soon buried his face in Mok-young’s nape and drew a deep breath. The thick scent of yin flowing in with his breath made Hae-gang dizzy, his mind going hazy. His heart began to pound — thump, thump, thump, thump — as if it would burst, and his whole body wanted Mok-young.
“I am… your wife.”
At Hae-gang’s words, Mok-young slowly bent his head and breathed out a deep, hot sigh — *haa*. The fierce wariness was gone from Mok-young’s downcast gaze. Having surrendered, he received from his wife an answer so utterly matter-of-fact it was absurd, and Mok-young was moving toward acceptance.
Your wife. Yes, that was right. Go Hae-gang was the person bound to him in marriage. So there was nothing they could not do together. Even if his body learned the taste of ruin, people would only say the couple’s harmony was good.
Hae-gang’s words were like an absolution granted to Mok-young. They said he might simply be swept away in this torrent. It was all only natural; it was only right.
Go Hae-gang was truly a remarkable person — to make one feel, even in this moment, that everything would be all right.
“Do you really… not know that your body could be harmed?” Mok-young asked. Hae-gang understood that the question was no longer pushing him away but looking after his well-being, and without answering at once, simply buried his face deeper in Mok-young’s nape.
With every breath, the cool scent filled his chest and cooled his heat — yet spurred his instinctive longing to burn hotter — and Hae-gang was already walking a road from which there was no return. While Mok-young feared and hesitated over what could not be undone, Hae-gang had already begun striding down that road ahead of him. It had become irresistible.
“Have you already forgotten my words? Did I not tell you to hurt me if you wished?” At Hae-gang’s words, Mok-young pushed Hae-gang’s arm aside this time and turned to face him. The push was not so rough. Even in this, Hae-gang reached out to steady Mok-young’s arm lest his body sway, and Mok-young let out another hollow laugh at the touch.
Now properly seen, his wife’s — Hae-gang’s — face was already in full bloom with red fever-flowers. A beauty already praised as beautiful, flushed with heat, grew so richly sensual that Mok-young was left speechless for a moment.
Before Mok-young could open his mouth, Hae-gang reached out first. One hand still holding Mok-young’s forearm, the other came to rest on Mok-young’s face. *Why was this man’s touch so tender and warm?* Feeling how carefully the hand approached his cheek, Mok-young could not bring himself to shake it off.
“I won’t die from this much. I promise I won’t make you a widower, so rest easy.” Mok-young still could not answer, but a rueful smile slipped out. *Had he ever seen such a shameless man?* Hae-gang’s words — *rest easy, I won’t make you a widower* — sounded insolent, yet strangely reassuring.
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