The Unforeseen

Yerin shifted slightly, her bare skin brushing against his beneath the rumpled sheets. Her eyes lingered on his face, soft and unreadable in the quiet morning light.

Then she whispered, almost as if confessing a secret to the wind.

"…That was my first time."

Jiho froze. His breath caught in his throat.

He turned to face her fully, heart thudding. "What…?" His voice cracked. "Yerin… I didn't know. I'm sorry."

But her fingers reached for his, warm and steady. She squeezed his hand, her lips curling into the faintest smile.

"It's okay," she said, her voice low and intimate. "I liked it."

Her gaze didn't waver. "Doing it with you… felt good."

The air between them tightened, electric again—not with the wild urgency of the night before, but something quieter, deeper. Jiho could feel the heat rising behind his sternum, a dangerous ache returning just from the way she looked at him—naked honesty paired with a sultry, unspoken understanding.

She inched closer, her leg brushing against his beneath the covers.

"You were gentle," she murmured. "But not too gentle."

Her breath was warm against his neck now. "You held me like you needed me... like I wasn't just a body under you—but something you'd been craving."

Jiho's throat went dry. Every word she spoke ignited something in him—guilt twisted with desire, confusion laced with longing.

He swallowed hard. "I wasn't in control," he admitted. "My body... I wasn't thinking straight."

Yerin smiled again, a playful glint in her half-lidded eyes. "Neither was I."

She trailed a finger along his chest, slow and teasing. "But it felt right, didn't it?"

Jiho nodded slowly, drawn to her all over again. "Yeah," he whispered. "It did."

She leaned in, her lips brushing his jaw. "If this was wrong…" Her voice was a velvet murmur. "Then I wouldn't mind being wrong again."

Jiho's hand slipped to her waist instinctively, the heat between them stirring once more. The morning light may have tried to bring clarity, but in that moment—wrapped in tangled sheets and the aftermath of chaos—desire whispered louder than reason.

---

Afterward, a silence enveloped the guest room. The damp air and the faint scent of herbal oils lingered from the small bathroom in the corner of the room.

Yerin sat at the edge of the bed, her hair still damp, skin clean but flushed in some places. She wore borrowed clothing—loose shirt and light cloth provided by the household staff. Across from her, Jiho tied the last piece of his clothing with slightly trembling hands.

There were no words for a few moments. Only the sound of water dripping from the roof and their breaths still not fully calm.

Finally, Jiho spoke, softly, "I didn't know... my body could react like that."

Yerin glanced at him but said nothing. She just nodded slightly, then stood—her movements composed, but not entirely calm.

Her cheeks were tinged pink, a faint flush betraying what had transpired not long before. Whether from embarrassment, exertion, or something more complicated, even she couldn't say.

"The merchant wants to speak once you wake up," she said, changing the subject. "He says he has something to show you."

Jiho nodded and followed her out of the room. They slowly descended the wooden stairs, the aroma of tea and warm food greeting them from the kitchen.

In the main room, the merchant—with a neatly trimmed beard and a slightly protruding belly beneath his thick, well-made robes. His beaded necklace clinked softly as he shifted his weight, a practiced mask of politeness on his face.—smiled warmly as he saw them appear.

"Ah, you're awake!" he said, setting down a cup of tea. "I thought you would pass out all night, young man."

Jiho raised an eyebrow, a little embarrassed. "I… thank you for the shelter and your help."

"No, no. I should be the one thanking you," the merchant replied. He glanced at Yerin. "And I also owe you both. If not for your help, I might have been a corpse by the side of the road."

He stood up, then opened a drawer in one of the old cabinets. He pulled out something—a scroll of ancient paper, tied with a frayed red string.

"Something was left behind by the bandits. A map. But not just any map."

He unrolled it onto the wooden table. "I thought it was just scribbles. But look here…"

Yerin and Jiho leaned in. On the old map was a route leading out of the city… and a strange symbol, half-wilted flower-like, written in the bottom right corner.

Jiho's eyes lingered on the map, his mind racing as he stared at the half-wilted flower-like symbol. A sudden flash of memory struck him—he had seen that symbol before. His heart skipped a beat as the realization dawned.

"That's it," Jiho muttered under his breath. "Lingzhi Poisonflower."

He had read about it in the Wusheng Sutra of the Venom Path, the secret manual of the Tang Sect. The flower was notorious for being both extraordinarily potent and dangerously toxic. Consuming it could drastically enhance one's qi, but the risks were immense—it could either empower the user or kill them in an instant.

Before Jiho could share his thoughts, the merchant spoke again, cutting him off.

"Oh, by the way," the merchant said, leaning in with a grin. "I heard there's an elder from Emei Sect who's been running around, frantically searching for her disciple here in Nirae City. I thought maybe the person she's looking for could be you, miss?"

Jiho raised an eyebrow. "Your sect's name is Emei, Yerin?"

Yerin nodded. "Yes."

"Your master?" Jiho asked, his tone light at first. But then, as he noticed her sudden shift in demeanor, his curiosity piqued. Yerin had looked momentarily pleased at the mention of her master, but that quickly shifted to an expression of unease. Jiho sensed a sudden tension in the air.

Yerin's mind raced, remembering what had just transpired between them the night before. It hadn't been a simple meeting; it had been... complicated. The thought of her master finding out about what had happened made her stomach twist.

She swallowed hard, her face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and unease.

"Yerin?" Jiho repeated, raising an eyebrow at her reaction.

Before she could respond, the door to the room opened, and in walked a tall woman with an aura of quiet authority. She was accompanied by a servant from the merchant's household, who had been guiding her through the house.

The woman's eyes locked onto Yerin immediately, and a knowing, stern look flashed across her face.

"Yerin!" she called.