It must have been more than four years ago.
Members of a faction opposed to the Peira once attempted to assassinate Tae Mu-won. They were convinced that if they rushed him in numbers, even Mu-won could be killed.
And the result? Total annihilation.
He slaughtered every last one of them—even those who had cried out for mercy. His reason was simple: by making an example of them, others would think twice before becoming a nuisance. True enough, no one dared raise a hand against him after that. Everyone valued their lives too much.
The thought that he might have to clean up a few corpses left Cheongyeon uneasy. But Mu-won merely passed by the twins and the drunken men, heading instead toward the long, narrow bar counter. It was the kind of place where patrons sat in a line, speaking directly with the owner, who poured beer or prepared side dishes behind the counter.
‘Why me…?’
With the tavern master absent, Cheongyeon was the one manning the bar.
It left him with a sense of dread. He had forgotten that his instincts were not to be trusted. Mu-won had yet to lay down his suspicions of him.
Dogged, relentlessly so. If he had truly been falsely accused, he might have wept from sheer frustration.
Mu-won sat across from him, the bar counter between them. As he undid the button of his tailored suit, the plain black shirt beneath stood in stark contrast to the flamboyant jacket covering it.
“Herbalist.”
When Cheongyeon answered softly, Mu-won frowned, as if the reply were absurd.
“Not doing business again?”
“…No, sir. Welcome. What can I get you?”
“Beer.”
‘Did he really come here just to drink?’ Cheongyeon swallowed the thought. Even though he had surely heard himself being mocked earlier, Mu-won showed no sign of reacting.
Had he truly not heard? Impossible. The younger twin had snapped a toothpick while sneering about his manhood in the dead silence that followed Mu-won’s entrance.
Turning his back, Cheongyeon drew the beer from the tap, a chill prickling constantly along his spine. His hand trembled slightly as he skimmed the foam off the glass with a ladle. When the beer fell just short, he refilled it to the brim—better that than give Mu-won an excuse to nitpick.
The other patrons, nervous and restless, were desperate to leave. Yet they couldn’t do so without paying at the bar where Cheongyeon stood.
Skipping payment was another option, but if Mu-won noticed… who knew what consequences that would bring? No one dared risk it.
Cheongyeon wondered whether he should just go around to each table to collect the money, if only to relieve himself of this uncomfortable spot.
“Here’s your beer.”
He placed the glass before Mu-won, careful, deliberate, every detail more precise than usual.
Mu-won seized it at once and downed it in great gulps. His exposed throat bobbed with each swallow, the movement oddly compelling. The crude jeers about his face and body flickered in Cheongyeon’s mind. It wasn’t the first time such ridicule had been thrown about. His striking looks drew as much malice as admiration.
Cheongyeon knew little of physiognomy, but he could admit one thing: of all the men he had ever seen, Mu-won was by far the most handsome. People often gawked at him as though he had stepped out of myth.
Finishing his beer in one breath, Mu-won slammed the empty glass back onto the counter.
“Maybe your poor business is the fault of this seat?”
“…Sorry?”
“You just sit here, staring blankly at customers. Lazy bastard—it’s your fault.”
Mu-won was a demon, unpredictable and dangerous.
Cheongyeon might have endured the false accusation of smuggling Flowers of Vengeance, but this—being called lazy—he could not accept.
He never wasted days in a drunken stupor like the tavern crowd, nor did he live carelessly.
No one else knew it, but he was one of the pillars upholding Cheonghwajin itself. He lived with that pride, and guarded his own line of discipline.
“I was startled earlier, but I don’t live idly.”
The words escaped before he could stop them. Mu-won’s lips curved as if to say, ‘Oh? So, you do talk back.’
“Well, of course you’d be startled if you’d been gossiping about me.”
The barb was misplaced. The ones who had mocked him were others—but Cheongyeon caught the blow instead. He knew he should hold his tongue, yet he spoke again.
“I’ve never done such a thing.”
Mu-won pushed the empty glass forward with a tap. Normally, Cheongyeon would have simply refilled it, but fearing some new pretext for censure, he fetched a fresh glass instead. Carefully, he filled it, set it down without spilling a drop.
“Maybe you were only lazy the day after you took that stem.”
Cheongyeon clicked his tongue inwardly. Mu-won’s words were always laced with traps, keeping him on edge.
“As I said, I thought it was trash and threw it away.”
He answered flatly. Mu-won merely raised his eyes to look at him.
Under the tavern’s cheap orange lights, Mu-won’s golden irises shimmered like a sea drenched in sunset. Across the continents and in Cheonghwajin, there was no one else with such eyes.
Perhaps on some continent Cheongyeon had never seen, there might be others like him—but Tae Cheon-oh, known as his brother, had plain brown eyes.
“And if you’re talking about the day after that—I opened late because I caught a chill in the rain.”
Cheongyeon added the excuse, feeble as it was, unable to bear Mu-won’s unblinking gaze. At least, since Mu-won had not mentioned the cleaning job, it didn’t seem he had caught his earlier lie.
“Ah.”
“…Sir?”
When Cheongyeon failed to understand, Mu-won deliberately mouthed the word again: ‘Ah.’
His indifferent lips parted, revealing a tongue as red as blood. Even his tongue, Cheongyeon thought absurdly, was beautiful. Reluctant though he was, he mirrored him and parted his own lips.
Suddenly Mu-won’s hand shot forward. Faster than he could recoil, fingers clamped tight around the back of his neck, hauling him close until his chest pressed the table. Shocked, Cheongyeon looked up—only for fingers to slip inside his mouth.
“…!”
Words of protest crumbled, mangled against the rough intrusion. Mu-won tugged hard at his tongue, pain shooting down to its root. Slippery and wet, it quickly slipped free—but the sting lingered, as though it had been nearly torn out.
Cheongyeon clapped both hands over his mouth, terror coursing through him. His body was still pinned against the bar by Mu-won’s grip. Around them, the patrons, who had moments before sat tense, now watched with rapt interest. The twins, who should have stepped in, averted their eyes instead.
“Open.”
The command chilled him. If he disobeyed, he feared his tongue might truly be ripped out. Slowly, trembling, he lowered his hands. Then, even more slowly, he parted his lips.
Without hesitation, Mu-won thrust two fingers inside—middle and index, filling his mouth. Rough, calloused knuckles scraped his tongue, harsh as sandpaper.
Cheongyeon fought the rising gag reflex as the fingers pressed deep, nearly to his throat. His eyes watered, hot and bloodshot. Realizing no one would intervene, he looked up at Mu-won in desperation.
The fingers moved crudely, forcefully, but Mu-won’s gaze remained calm. Detached. As though he were confirming something.
“…So…”
When he finally withdrew his hand, a string of saliva stretched from Cheongyeon’s lips to his fingers. He smeared the wetness deliberately across Cheongyeon’s soft lips.
“Ordinary, after all.”
Seeing Cheongyeon’s flushed cheeks, stained with shame and pain, he gave a loose smile. Then he let go of his neck.
Straightening, Cheongyeon hastily wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand.
Mu-won dipped his fingers into his beer glass, swishing them before dumping the beer onto the floor. A dark stain spread across the boards.
Madman…
Cheongyeon burned to spit at him, but lacked the courage. The taste of a Flower of Vengeance filled his mouth instead. Fragrant, intoxicating—his mouth watered, and he swallowed without thinking.
Mu-won set the empty glass back on the counter. He wasn’t the only one here who drank as though beer were water. Cheongyeon, hoping he might simply get drunk and leave, filled a fresh glass to the brim. Feigning nonchalance, he raised his voice.
“Would anyone else like to order beer?”
“Y-yeah! One more for me!”
A patron who hadn’t joined in the earlier mockery raised his empty glass, bold for once.
Every gaze shifted not to him, but to Mu-won. Even Cheongyeon, though trying to act casual, was gambling by speaking aloud in front of him. Yet Mu-won seemed wholly uninterested, neither in the order nor in the man who placed it.