Reverse Murder v1c33

“…….”

“A funeral bier carries corpses, but a yeongyeo carries spirits and ancestral tablets. This one’s as old as the shrine—probably left behind by locals who used to hold rituals here.”

“…What?”

“It’s a ghost palanquin.”

A chill slithered down Jihan’s spine. He scrambled out—only for Seon to catch him in his arms.

Seon’s laughter brushed his ear.

“Hah… you’re adorable.”

Still chuckling, Seon buried his nose in Jihan’s nape, his hot breath raising goosebumps everywhere it touched. “Hyung…”

“…….”

“Did you have fun?”

“…….”

“I did. From Beogae to Sanggeosan, then to Yuksillyeong… Every trace of you I found made me laugh like an idiot. Ah, we’re both far from the capital now—just as you wanted, isn’t it?”

“…What?”

My doing? Jihan tried to protest, but Seon’s arms tightened painfully around his chest.

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Ugh… let go.”

The grip was iron. Jihan thrashed, gasping, but the unyielding shoulders only pulled him closer.

“I just severed Maki’s Achilles tendon.”

Jihan stilled.

“If you pull this stunt again, I’ll cut his throat.”

“…….”

“Fun or not, a month apart is enough. We want the same thing, don’t we?”

Jihan’s mind blanked. His mouth opened and closed uselessly. What the hell is he talking about? Jihan didn’t want a month—he wanted to be buried six feet under before ever seeing Seon again. Yet here he was, twisting everything backward.

But before he could process it, the image of Maki’s ruined ankle burned his eyes.

“How could you do that to Maki?! What did that boy ever do to deserve being crippled?!”

Seon’s eyes flickered with a cold glint. “Why blame me?”

Jihan flinched, voice trembling. “W-what…?”

“You’re the one who spread your legs for other men, letting them crack pumpkin seeds in your ass. Whose fault is that?”

The words made his ears ring. He raised a fist to strike, but Seon caught his wrist and yanked him forward.

“You can’t stand it either. The thought of me with someone else.”

“…W-what did you say?!”

“That’s why you lured me here. To ruin everything—your engagement, your reputation. Isn’t it?”

“No! What nonsense—you’ve lost your damn mind!” Jihan shrieked, denying it.

“Then let’s confirm it together.”

Seon, cheek bulging as he pressed his tongue against it, silently grabbed Jihan’s collar.

“Let go of me, you maggot! Get your filthy hands off me!”

“You’ve got a decent little house, Hyung. Surrounded by mountains—perfect for screaming your lungs out. I always hated how you bit the blankets or chewed your lip to stay quiet at the estate. Tonight, you can wail all you want.”

“You son of a bitch! You psychotic, vile bastard! LET GO!”

Jihan flailed, hurling ritual bowls and candlesticks at Seon, who ignored it all, his face calm, even amused.

“I sent the servants down to the village. No need to hold back like at the main house.”

Seon dragged Jihan by the scruff to the shrine’s entrance. Jihan kicked and thrashed, but Seon hoisted him onto his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. Desperate, Jihan howled like a trapped animal—if only a tiger would appear—but Seon only smacked his ass hard.

“Agh!”

“Save that whining for the bed.”

The deeper the night grew, the colder the mountain air became. Beneath the crisp sliver of moon, a red halo bled across the sky. Seon, with Jihan still slung over his shoulder, moved swiftly—crossing the valley and scaling the slope until they reached the thatched cottage in no time.

The courtyard, unlike before, was eerily silent, devoid of even a single flicker of light. The men Seon had brought with him—and Maki—had already been sent down to the village below. Seon pushed open the small paper door, which creaked like a breathing mouth, and shoved Jihan inside. Clinging to the doorframe, Jihan thrashed for what felt like an eternity before finally being hurled into the room as if sucked in by a vortex.

***

…What the hell did he order them to do before chasing after me?

Jihan crouched in the corner of the room, wide-eyed. Just as Seon had said, the house was empty.

But something about the room was off. The black blanket Maki had neatly folded that morning was now spread out in the center of the floor, and the oil lamp was lit.

What caught Jihan’s attention most, though, was the rope hanging from the ceiling beam.

A long, tightly twisted silk rope—resembling the birthing ropes women gripped during childbirth—dangled ominously above him.

“Remember our promise?”

Seon knelt on one knee beside him, voice smooth as silk. Jihan glared, feral.

“What promise?”

“That when I returned from my trip, we’d take a leisurely journey together to some quiet place.”

“…….”

“Though I never expected you’d be here alone, so far away. Well… if we call it a honeymoon, it’s not so bad.”

A honeymoon? Jihan’s teeth chattered with rage. “You’re out of your damn mind. What do you want? Money? Should I toss you a handful of coins so you’ll leave?”

“Leave?”

Seon’s brows twitched slightly as he smirked. “You’d have to swear to stay by my side. Promise you’ll never run like this again and deceive me. Because if you do—”

He trailed off, dragging a finger down his own cheek, leaving the rest to Jihan’s imagination. The smile still lingering on his face was tinged with madness. Jihan refused to cower, glaring back even harder.

“So what? You’ll hang me from that rope and torture me if I run again?”

“Are you planning to run?”

Seon’s hand closed around the dangling rope, his voice flat. Jihan’s retort died in his throat.

If he really wanted to, he could.

They were deep in the mountains, far beyond the reach of the capital’s laws. If Seon harmed him here, who would know? He could stage it as a death by supernatural curse, or shackle Jihan’s ankles and lock him away where no one would ever find him. The thought sent a chill down his spine.

“Hyung.”

“…….”

“No answer?”

“…….”

“Fine.”

Seon grabbed Jihan’s wrists and yanked them above his head. Jihan’s body twisted violently.

“What the hell are you doing?! You think you’ll get away with this?!”

“Yeah. I do.”

“Don’t you dare speak informally to me, you filthy beggar bastard! How dare you—!”

“If I’m a beggar bastard, then what does that make you?”

Seon let out a cold laugh. Methodically, he bound Jihan’s wrists together with the rope, tying them tight in a knot.

“I’ve always wondered—what are you, spreading your legs for a beggar like me and cumming all over yourself? A used-up rag?”

Jihan lashed out with his feet. A sharp kick to the chest made Seon cough, but he calmly seized Jihan’s ankle.

“Should I tie your ankles too? Keep you like this all night while I fuck you senseless?”

Jihan swallowed hard, slowly relaxing his legs. This monster would do it without hesitation.

He stared up at the ceiling beam, despair clawing at him. The rafters looked sturdier than those in any tiled roof house. He yanked his bound wrists downward—only dust rained down. The beam didn’t budge. Hopeless.

Meanwhile, Seon was already untying Jihan’s sash, pulling apart the layers of his undergarments.

“Put on some weight. Must’ve been living well.”

“…….”

“Even grew out your pubes nice and pretty down here. I’ll shave you clean when we get back to the estate.”

Seon traced the defined muscles of Jihan’s lower abdomen before gripping his cock and balls, lifting them slightly. Then, without warning, he pressed his lips to the soft, exposed perineum. Insane. Jihan bit his lip, humiliation and fear burning his face as he looked away.

His pants were stripped off, undergarments and socks tossed into the corner. Seon tapped the inside of Jihan’s knee—a silent order to spread his legs. Jihan shook his head frantically.

“Why? Did you really fuck Maki?”

Author: Hyacinthus B

Hyacinthus