Part 8 - Gluttony
Despite Jeong-a's attempts to stop him, Yeon Sang-hyeon stubbornly insisted on helping with the meal preparations—and in the end, he even stayed until everything was finished together with her.
But she couldn't feel any particular emotion at his bizarre behavior.
Right now, Jeong-a was gripped by a sticky sense of unease she couldn't shake off.
How on earth is he slipping past my eyes?
The First Young Master was clearly right in front of her, yet the information her 'eyes' could read was only that much—nothing more.
What he was thinking, what his emotional state was, what he would do next…
Her 'eyes' couldn't read a single thing.
"Come, come. Don't just stand there—sit here too."
"How could a lowly servant dare share a table with the First Young Master?"
She'd tried to dissuade him even while setting the table, but it was obvious this First Young Master had absolutely no intention of listening to her.
"Tsk. Didn't I tell you to sit down? Now."
In the end, she had no option to refuse her master's order.
Letting out a sigh inwardly, Jeong-a squeezed her eyes shut and sat down across from him.
If people outside heard that she'd shared a table alone with the First Young Master of the Luoyang Sword Clan, who would believe it?
"Mmm. This seasoned mix is wonderful. It has a real touch to it. Simple, but the flavor's soaked in nicely."
"…It's nothing more than a trivial skill."
She couldn't even tell whether the food was going into her mouth or her nose, yet for some reason the rice went down unusually easily.
Come to think of it, the only thing she'd had since dawn was a single bowl of rice gruel.
Or perhaps it was because the dishes on the table were made with ingredients grown directly in Wongakjeong.
Thanks to the effects of the formation array, she'd been told that even in the dead of winter, Wongakjeong maintained a temperature like early spring.
"Hm. Now that I think about it—are you no longer feeling dizzy from the formation array?"
Jeong-a covered her mouth and answered demurely.
"Yes. I believe it's thanks to your care—and your concern."
"Hm", Yeon Sang-hyeon murmured, nodding as if he understood something.
"Good. That's a relief. Sometimes there are constitutions that are sensitive to qi. Even without internal energy."
"I-is that so?"
"And eyes close to golden… Hm."
"..."
Jeong-a's composure wavered again.
As for 'eyes', Jeong-a only knew what she'd learned through experience.
Anxiety that the First Young Master might notice something about her eyes mixed together with a faint hope that he might recognize the true nature of the eyes that were no different from a heavenly punishment to her.
Then Yeon Sang-hyeon, who had been thinking with his eyes closed, suddenly snapped them open.
"Mm…!"
"…!"
Jeong-a forced down her impatience.
"It really would be best to have one more bowl. Heap it up again this time."
"…Yes, First Young Master."
In the end, after that, the First Young Master ate five more bowls of rice—yet he didn't say a single word about her constitution.
He only kept up small talk.
"…Mmm. Still feels a bit lacking."
The First Young Master smacked his lips.
"…My apologies. Shall I cook more rice, then?"
The generously cooked rice was all gone, and the First Young Master had even poured hot water over the scorched rice at the bottom of the pot and drunk that too.
"No. It's good when it's lacking just a little."
Jeong-a couldn't understand what part of this was "just a little lacking," but she nodded anyway.
"Then I'll prepare plenty of sweets to accompany your after-meal tea."
"Hm. Tea is fine, but right now… I'd rather have liquor."
"…Yes. I will prepare abundant side dishes as well."
"Haha. You're quick-witted."
Jeong-a hid her reluctant expression and headed back to the kitchen once more.
Preparing meals for a master who ate in great quantities would be more exhausting, but wasn't it far better than someone who was overly picky or fussy about tastes?
After she withdrew, Yeon Sang-hyeon rubbed his stomach and tilted his head.
"…That's strange."
He had definitely been a small eater.
Half a bowl of rice.
A few pickled or seasoned side dishes.
And one bowl of hot broth—those memories were clearly there, enough to satisfy him completely.
But strangely, even now, he felt hunger.
This wasn't a question of big eater or small eater.
Five bowls of rice, a whole pot's worth of scorched-rice soup, all kinds of dishes, broth…
With that amount, he should have felt some sense of fullness at least. Yet what he felt now was closer to the mild emptiness he'd feel right before a late-night snack.
If there was any reason he could guess…
The Ruler Of Darkness.
An ancient demonic object.
The object among objects, woven into being by three immortals at the cost of everything they had.
Could this hunger have originated from that demonic object?
A moment later, Yeon Sang-hyeon let out a hollow laugh.
The price of obtaining a demonic object that turns back time and twists fate… is that I can't get full?
And even if that were true—so what?
He was the rightful heir of a damned, obscenely wealthy family.
Even while countless commoners outside starved and dried up and died in famine, he could still eat until he was full.
He could eat an entire cow every day and it wouldn't be a problem.
At that moment, he didn't hear it.
From his lower abdomen—his dantian—a small, ominous sound, giggling as it laughed.
And he proceeded to devour all the side dishes—enough for five or six grown men.
***
"…This is…"
It was already deep into the night, but Yeon Sang-hyeon couldn't fall asleep.
Because the hunger had returned.
"..."
He was about to call Jeong-a again, but stopped.
No matter how much he'd been teasing Jeong-a in various ways, he refused to look like a glutton beyond reason—like a hungry ghost.
And fundamentally, this hunger clearly seemed to have some cause behind it.
He had a few hypotheses, but for now, first he needed to soothe the hunger.
He rose and hurriedly dressed himself.
In the past, whenever his chest felt stifled and he couldn't sleep, he'd wander the night streets of Luoyang.
The tavern districts of Luoyang—one of the largest cities in the Central Plains—became a sleepless city that stayed bright all night, so satisfying hunger wouldn't be difficult.
If he slipped out of the main house quietly like this, a few guards would follow him while making no attempt to hide their displeasure.
Back when he'd had not even a scrap of internal energy, there was no way he could deceive his clan's eyes.
And yet…
For some reason, tonight, he felt he didn't need to go out like that.
As if someone—no, something—were calling him.
Like when someone calls your name from behind and you reflexively turn your head.
Like turning around like that, he took a step.
"…?!"
And he found himself standing atop a massive conifer.
It was the tallest and oldest tree among those forming Wongakjeong's formation array.
"What is…?"
Then the branch beneath his feet swayed slightly.
It was a thin, fragile branch that would snap even if a small child hung from it—yet for some reason, it only wobbled faintly, like it was merely trembling in the wind.
And though he should have felt dizzy looking down from such a height, his heart was, for some reason, perfectly calm.
In his mind, questions like how he'd climbed this high, or what trick he was using to stand on such a delicate branch, simply vanished.
He only felt a strange confidence that he could do it.
He didn't even know what he could do.
And it felt as if it wasn't his own thought or feeling—like someone, something, had whispered it.
[...disciples, you can do it.]
"…Right. I can do it."
And so Yeon Sang-hyeon stepped forward past the branch—
And in the next moment, he was stepping on the roof tiles of a towering pavilion of the Sword Clan.
A voice escaped his lips without him meaning it to.
"So this is it."
Yeon Sang-hyeon felt it.
He grasped it instinctively.
This was moving from darkness to darkness.
Was it folding space like the legendary Shrinking Earth?
Or was he passing through something like a corridor?
From his body, demonic qi that didn't belong to him oozed thickly and dripped down.
A technique permitted only to beings who lived in demonic qi and breathed demonic qi—
A skill of a twisted Immortal Realm.
The one and only movement art meant for the disciples of The Ruler Of Darkness.
[Dark Current Transformation]
At the same time, his body melted into the empty air.
On the roof tiles lit only by faint moonlight, there was no longer any trace of him to be found.
Only a weak swirl of demonic qi—briefly spiraling, then scattering with the wind—served as proof that he had been there.
***
An inn in Luoyang.
Its food was so well known that word had spread quietly; it had plenty of regulars, and even gourmands came after hearing the rumors.
A young server boy who'd worked there long enough to be hardened by life was undergoing an experience so strange he couldn't put it into words.
He usually thought that although he was only twelve, he'd already been through enough that nothing could surprise him.
But what in the world was happening right in front of his eyes?
He realized at once the situation had already left his hands, and he bolted to find his senior.
"What did you say?!"
Hearing the boy's story, the senior decided he had to see it himself to believe it.
And when he looked in the direction the boy's trembling finger pointed from the stairs, he was struck dumb in shock.
Since it was an inn famous for its food, even at this late hour customers came not for drinking, but for meals.
In such a place, meeting gourmands who lived for the joy of eating in great quantities was common, and he'd always believed there was no way he'd be startled by "big eating".
But what was it that he was seeing now?
As he watched for a moment, the boy noticed something odd.
Why are there so few customers on this floor?
Only a handful remained, keeping as far away as possible from "that table" at the center.
And even those customers were slowly rising and preparing to leave.
Normally, a big eater drew attention.
Some people cheered whenever more bowls were added, some encouraged them, some clicked their tongues—yet the sight before him was something he'd never seen in his life.
What kind of sorcery is this?
And as he stared that way for a little longer—
He felt his legs give out, and he collapsed to the floor.
"H-huh…!"
When he looked to the side, the young server boy was also sitting there, face drained pale.
Without thinking twice, he scrambled down the stairs as if rolling.
No—on the first floor, he actually did tumble.
"Hey! What's going on?!"
The burly owner, a man whose imposing frame was second to none, strode toward them.
"Owner sir…! Owner sir…!"
The boy grabbed the owner's pant leg and cried out in a low voice, as if afraid someone might hear him.
"It's a hungry ghost…! A hungry ghost from hell has appeared…!"