[CYM] 24 – True Appearance (2)

“Wow.”

Applause, albeit clumsy, rang out. The young master had somehow managed to sit up straight, his mouth slightly agape in a smile as if he had witnessed something truly rare.

He watched her deed with admiration and then reached out to carefully remove something from my cheek. I had thought it was a petal, but it was a red butterfly that had seemingly gathered without notice.

“What was that just now?”

“Weren’t you supposed to go inside? Have you been watching all this time? And what about that bloodstain on your cheek…”

“I’m not sure. I must have scraped it somewhere.”

“If it’s the work of a demon, you need to treat it immediately. If left alone, it could fester with poison.”

He seemed unconcerned, as if the wound were not on his own body. Out of frustration, she handed him a round pouch from her waist.

“First, apply these herbs to the wound.”

She was entranced by the red butterfly she had captured. If left to her own devices, she would lie there forever, absorbed in admiration rather than seeking treatment.

Beodeul set about to personally apply herbs, propping the young master up straight and seating him on the veranda. On closer inspection, she noticed sporadic wounds on his cheek and neck, as if pierced by sharp fragments, and with his permission, she slightly opened his lapel.

“I will grind the herbs right here, so if you have a clean cloth, please give it to me. Wounds need to be treated promptly to prevent complications.”

“Did you call these butterflies?”

Seated against the wall, as if devoid of will, he showed no discomfort on his face, even as she exposed his collarbone.

“Have you decided to show them openly now?”

“What are you talking about, just stay still, please. I just put it on, and if you move like that, the herbs will spill!”

A butterfly, as if pleading for affection, landed on her nose and then, when shooed away, flew to her cheek and fluttered around.

The young master’s hand reached out slowly, and in an instant, the fragile butterfly was caught. Its wings, which had been flapping fiercely, were soon torn as smoothly as wet paper in front of her eyes.

“The son of a shaman truly is different.”

The young master blinked his eyes and shook off the wing fragments from his hand. The naturalness of his actions was so fluid that there was no sense of discomfort, and for a moment she thought she had seen wrongly.

“You’re hurt too.”

The warm tone of voice awakened her as she stood frozen in a daze. A cold touch was upon her bruised skin. A worried glance. Then, slowly, he rubbed her cheek with his thumb, as if erasing something.

She realised belatedly that there was blood on her cheek. He carefully wiped the bloodstain from her cheek and then repeated the same action on the other cheek.

“See? You’re hurt too. Right?”

“Ah, a little...”

Her skin, toughened by outdoor work and chores, had no chance to become soft. In contrast, the young master’s hand was finer than silk and cold as jade.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, she casually wiped the marks left by the claws of a spirit with her sleeve.

“It’s nothing.”

“And here.”

His serious gaze moved to the back of her neck. Lifting the collar, she saw two red spots like marks from a horned beetle.

“Don’t worry, I can easily treat this.”

As tension ebbed away like the outgoing tide, her limbs relaxed. Her hands and feet, freed from tension, shook uncontrollably. She collapsed, forgetting her dignity, and the young master watched her for a moment before going into the kitchen and returning with a small basin.

A cold wet towel grazed her forehead. Where the sky should have been, the face of a strikingly handsome man loomed over, taking her breath away. Being so close, she averted her gaze.

“Now it’s done.”

The young master continued to dab her face with the wet cloth until her face was soaked, and when she spoke up, he finally stopped and brought a dry cloth to gently wipe her face, as if polishing a dish.

“It would be troublesome, anyway... I’ll have to disinfect it again when I get home.”

“Just stay still.”

The touch on her face was gentle and meticulous. The face hovering close to hers was as finely carved as jade, with a smile on the lips but coldness in the eyes. It was an enigmatic impression, neither warm nor cool.

Unintentionally resting her head on the young master’s knee, she had to hold her breath while his delicate hands moved across her face.

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