"Wha… what?"
"Oh, I mean liquor."
I'd grown accustomed to this world's rhythms—the creak of wooden carts, the tang of street spices, the endless hum of qi in the air—but old habits from Earth still slipped through the cracks sometimes, unbidden and sharp. No matter; liquor remained the great equalizer, a constant in any realm.
"…Well, fine. Should I get you a bottle then?" Tang Ayeon arched a brow, her chopsticks pausing mid-air. "But wouldn't it be bad to get drunk before meeting the group?"
"Have you ever seen me drunk, Miss?" I shot back, a grin tugging beneath the mask. "Tell them to bring a whole barrel—I'm confident I won't pass out."
It was one of the few perks this borrowed body offered: an alcohol tolerance forged in some cosmic jest, bottomless as a mountain spring. Days blurred into nights soaked in rice wine or plum spirit, yet no pounding skull, no regretful haze—just clear-eyed mornings and a liver that laughed at excess. Safe to say, I'd never been the sort to start brawls over a spilled cup.
"But isn't your stomach empty right now? Won't that hurt?"
"Miss."
I leaned in, my voice dipping to rare gravity, the weight of truth behind it.
"That's why I drink it."
...
...
"So, aside from you and me, the group's got three warriors. All men."
As I swirled the liquor in my cup—its amber glow catching the inn's lantern flicker—Tang Ayeon sketched the lineup, her words efficient as a battle map. But something snagged in the details, a loose thread begging a tug.
"Weren't there supposed to be two men and one woman?"
The missive had painted a balanced crew, a woman woven in among the blades. Now? An all-male vanguard.
"That woman had a sudden emergency, apparently," she explained with a shrug. "She found a replacement and bolted. Why? Disappointed it's all guys now?"
Her tone carried a faint edge, like a needle half-sheathed—probably just the morning light playing tricks, or my imagination stitching shadows where none belonged.
"No, I don't care."
And truly, I didn't. Gender tallies meant little after a decade shadowed by Master's ethereal grace; most women blurred into a haze of ordinary after that benchmark. By my old life's measure, Tang Ayeon would've turned heads on crowded sidewalks—a vision that demanded second glances, third thoughts. But...
Shake shake.
That woman's a cheat.
Her spirit was a whirlwind, sure—a handful wrapped in silk—but her form? Flawless, a sculptor's envy. A kingdom-toppler, the tales didn't exaggerate; they fell short. Ten years gazing on perfection had warped my gauge irreparably.
If Master clocked at 100—untouchable, divine—Earth's silver-screen sirens hovered around 70, polished but mortal. Tang Ayeon? A solid 85, her curves blooming bolder these sweltering days, yet still shy of that impossible ideal.
"…I feel like I'm getting some rude stares from somewhere."
"Must be your imagination."
If she peeled back the cloak and caught the drift of my irreverent musings, I'd be ash on the wind. But the veil granted me a poker face etched in ether—passive, impenetrable. What would life unmasked even look like? A riddle I had no urge to unravel.
Clatter! Clatter!
Three hours into the carriage's relentless jolt, I turned a page in my book, wincing as the ache settled into my spine like an unwelcome guest. The three warriors and Tang Ayeon—kindred in steel and sweat—traded barbs over shared scars and sect rivalries, their laughter rumbling like distant thunder.
This is filthy boring.
I'd chased whispers of this "bestseller" on a whim, but the prose slithered like thin gruel—risqué by era's timid standards, perhaps, yet to my jaded Earth eyes? Bland as day-old rice, the cultural chasms yawning wide enough to swallow whole chapters.
Should've stuck to that travel guide.
A novel had seemed a fresh diversion, but now? Four days loomed like a sentence, boredom's chains rattling.
"What're you reading?"
Lost in regret, I hadn't clocked Tang Ayeon's slide across the bench until her shoulder brushed mine.
"Why're you here? Shouldn't you be having deeper talks with the warriors?"
"Oh, come on." She nudged me, playful as a fox in the henhouse. "We had to drill strategy and formations—it couldn't be helped. Are you sulking?"
"…I'm not a kid who'd sulk over that."
Petite as this frame might be, my mind carried decades—full-grown, weathered. Patronized like a sulky youth? It chafed worse than ill-fitting boots. What child nursed a flask like an old scar, anyway?
"So what's the book? Is it good?"
"…It's not." I snapped it shut with a sigh, the binding creaking in protest. "Just some generic tale about a guy who stumbles into a lucky break, trains up, and goes out to claim treasures and women in the Central Plains. The writing's stale too."
"Oh, I think I've heard of that." Her eyes lit with recognition. "Isn't it super popular with men?"
"…This is popular?"
"Yeah. I heard the author built a house with the profits or something."
Duped by hype, then—but a genuine hit? This drivel?
"…Guess it's just not my taste."
"Why not? Isn't it cool? A dream for most guys—stumbling into power, becoming the best under heaven, and winning over tons of beauties?"
"…"
Let's entertain it. If I ascended to that pinnacle—
"I could forcibly take all the rare liquors hidden by every sect…"
"Is liquor seriously all you think about?!"
"But I've never really dreamed about it."
Strength's siren call had faded long ago, a mirage in mountain haze. If power ever graced me, it'd be for shelter, not spectacle—no grand quest for thrones or harems. This vessel couldn't bear such burdens anyway, fragile as autumn leaf.
"So no interest in women either?" She tilted her head, curiosity sharpening her gaze. "They say a hero's got at least three wives and four concubines. No desire to monopolize the Central Plains' beauties?"
A harem, then—splendor's gilded cage.
"I'm not really interested in women right now."
This shell had a deadline, after all—reclaimed before Master's awakening. Any spark would gutter to embers, a parting etched in inevitability.
But if—
"But if I ever did fall for a woman…"
Then—
"I'd give everything to that one woman."
Three wives, four shadows? Indifference's chill shrug. Fracturing a heart too scant for singularity across a multitude? If some fool boasted of it, I'd unleash a torrent of scorn, bucket brimming.
"…One woman?"
"Yeah. A person's heart isn't even enough for one. Love, even less so."
"…"
Tang Ayeon drifted into silence, her gaze distant as if peering through veils unseen, thoughts churning like river eddies.
...
...
Night draped the wilds in velvet hush, the campfire's glow our frail ward against the dark. Despite the cloak's shroud, I'd pulled my weight—blending the vampire's last haunt with my starlit glimpses to chart our course.
"It seems to still be in that same spot," I reported to the cluster of flames and faces. "Just in case, I'll check again tomorrow morning."
Tracking thus, diligent as a hound on scent. The lone snag?
Should've brought liquor.
No flask's lullaby to court sleep. A bottle before bed was ritual, weaving dreams from haze.
Crackle.
I fed another branch to the fire's maw, embers dancing like restless spirits. My watch claimed the first shift, Tang Ayeon's the last—a logical anchor, her strength the group's keel, conserved for dawn's demands. Slotting me upfront? An unexpected courtesy.
Maybe they're being considerate since I'm a civilian.
Not every sword arm burned with reckless fire, it seemed—some tempered with quiet grace.
Crackle.
As I hurled the next limb into the blaze, a prickle ghosted my shoulder—soft, deliberate. Twisting, I found a familiar silhouette, eyes gleaming in the firelight.
"Keeping watch well?"
Tang Ayeon dropped beside me, cross-legged and at ease, as if the wilds were her parlor.
"Isn't your shift the last one, Miss?"
"I got worried and came to check on you."
"…It's tough without liquor, but I'll manage."
The admission escaped as a sigh, heavy with want. Four days stretched barren; perhaps a detour to some roadside hamlet for resupply...
Clink.
"Looking for this?"
The sound—a liquid chime—yanked my head around. There, in her outstretched hand, gleamed a bottle, its curves etched in memory's glow.
"H-How did you…"
"I figured you'd react like this, so I brought it." She waggled it teasingly, triumph sparkling in her grin. "How's that? I'm the best, right?"
"Truly, you're the only one for me, Miss. I'm nothing without you."
"Hehe, flatter me more?"
"I love you, Miss."
"…"
Tang Ayeon froze, statue-still, the fire's warmth no match for the sudden frost in her stare.