Twelve steps.Kang Min-jae counted them like a monk reciting mantras.
One—two—three…
Eun Hae's pace stayed business-crisp, black academy coat flaring behind her. Hye-Ra drifted at his other elbow, robe swishing, still humming an after-glow melody that sounded suspiciously like I told you so.
Seven—eight… The dorm-tower foyer yawned open. Polished marble, high ceilings, and the bittersweet smell of medicinal incense—the Academy's favoured air freshener for sleepless cultivators.
Eleven—twelve.Min-jae's shoes clicked over the last tile. No spontaneous erection, no system prank. Small victory.
[SYSTEM NOTE]
Public-Boner Threat: <1 %
Steamed-Bun Opportunity: 94 %
"Cafeteria," he muttered.
"Coffee first," Hye-Ra agreed. "Then buns, then whatever torture the day holds."
Eun Hae nodded once. "You'll need food. Your core's still running on fumes."
They turned left down a quiet corridor. Pale morning light striped the floor through high windows. Ahead, a double door etched with peach-blossom runes marked Mess Hall — Sunrise Service.
Inside, long tables filled with early-rising disciples. Copper urns hissed. Bamboo steamers stacked in neat rows exhaled warm clouds that smelled of pork, scallion, and sesame.
Min-jae's stomach growled loud enough to turn heads.
A boy from the alchemy track blinked at him, then at the two women flanking him, and quickly redirected his gaze to a very interesting teapot.
Hye-Ra chuckled. "We're building reputation."
"Or fear," Min-jae sighed.
"Reputation is fear," Eun Hae said, steering him to the service counter.
They collected a metal tray: four pork buns, two lotus-paste buns, three cups of thick barley coffee. Min-jae reached for chopsticks; his hand shook. Eun Hae's fingers closed around his wrist—steady, firm.
"Eat first," she said. "Talk later."
He obeyed, biting into a bun so fluffy it nearly dissolved. Savoury broth burst across his tongue. The first swallow sent a wave of warmth down to the hollow ache in his dantian.
[SYSTEM]
Qi Recovery +7 %
Core Stability 9 % → 16 %
Comment: "Keep chewing."
Hye-Ra sipped coffee like wine and studied the room. "Lots of whispering today," she murmured.
Min-jae followed her gaze. Across the hall, students leaned together in tight clusters, glancing his way, then pretending to discuss syllabus scrolls. One girl from the Calligraphy Wing actually sketched him mid-bite, blush bright as phoenix ink.
"Stormbound gossip," he guessed, around a mouthful of bun.
"Partly," Eun Hae said, tearing her own bun with disciplined bites. "Mostly the courtyard duel. Baek Do-Won's humiliation is circulating faster than plague news."
Hye-Ra smirked into her cup. "Poor boy will need counselling—and perhaps a less symbolic sword."
Before Min-jae could answer, the cafeteria's quiet hum shifted. A hush rolled down the central aisle as though someone had flipped a mute talisman.
Footsteps—measured, soft, but each landing carried intent that pricked the air like needles.
Min-jae's nape tingled. He knew that pressure: the same silken tug from the courtyard window.
She appeared between the tables—red robes, floor-length, embroidered with a pattern of tangled threads that shimmered as she moved. Hair pinned high by crimson lacquered sticks; eyes a deep garnet that seemed to reflect every candle in the hall.
Conversation died completely. Even cutlery froze mid-clink.
The woman reached their table and inclined her head with impeccable grace.
"Good morning, Senior Eun. Senior Hye-Ra." Her voice was soft, but carried—a violin string just before it snaps. Then her gaze landed on Min-jae, lingering. "And you must be Kang Min-jae."
He swallowed hard. "I—yes."
[SYSTEM ALERT]
Name: Lin Shu-Rong
Title: Red-Thread Sovereign
Rank: ??? (Est. above Yin Mistress Tier)
Affection Seed: 2 % → 5 %
She has noticed your spiritual scent.
Eun Hae's posture changed a fraction—shoulders angling forward, turtleneck suddenly more like armour. "Lin Shu-Rong. I thought you were still in the Archivist Pagoda."
"My project moved faster than predicted," Shu-Rong replied, eyes never leaving Min-jae. "Turns out certain… anomalies accelerate research." She reached into her sleeve, produced a narrow card of crimson silk, and placed it beside his half-eaten bun.
Invitation CardPrivate Consultation — Red-Thread Pavilion — Tonight (Hour of the Dog)
Min-jae's pulse drummed. "Consultation about what, exactly?"
Shu-Rong's lips curved—somewhere between polite and predatory. "Thread work. Knots. How small bindings shape large fates." She straightened. "I look forward to meeting you, Kang Min-jae."
With a final nod to the two seniors, she turned and walked away. Conversations resumed only when the door sighed shut behind her.
Hye-Ra exhaled. "Well. She doesn't usually leave the archives for anyone short of a living demigod."
"Or a living disaster," Eun Hae added. Her gaze flicked to Min-jae. "You will not attend alone."
"I wasn't planning to attend at all," he said.
Hye-Ra tapped the silk card. "Refusing a Sovereign is technically allowed, but it earns… attention."
Eun Hae finished her coffee in one gulp. "We'll negotiate. Together."
Min-jae nibbled the edge of a lotus bun he no longer tasted. "Do negotiations usually involve ropes? Because I'm still chafed."
Hye-Ra leaned nearer, voice a low purr. "If she uses ropes, they're red silk. Much gentler. More permanent."
He groaned. "So today won't be normal either."
Eun Hae's hand settled on his forearm—steady, grounding. "Eat. Breathe. Survive lecture. One catastrophe at a time."
[SYSTEM TASK]
Finish breakfast.
Avoid spontaneous arousal (Chance: 14 %).
Attend Ethics lecture (Chance of embarrassment: 37 %).
Decide whether to meet Red-Thread Sovereign (Warning: High stakes).
Min-jae nodded to himself, tore another bite of bun, and tried to pretend the cafeteria was just another dining hall and not a staging ground for fate.
Ten minutes later, tray empty, coffee drained, they stepped into the corridor. The bell chimed; first period began at seven sharp. The academy's colonnade stretched ahead, banners fluttering with morning breeze.
Hye-Ra nudged his elbow. "Feeling steadier?"
"Seventeen-percent steadier," he said.
"Good." She licked a stray dot of lotus paste from her thumb. "Try to remember that number when Mira asks why you look like you spent the night being harvested."
Min-jae managed a thin smile. "Thanks for the encouragement."
Eun Hae gave his shoulder a brief squeeze. "Focus on walking, not worrying. The more you fear a stumble, the likelier you'll fall."
"And if I do fall?"
"We'll pick you up," she said simply. "Then probably punish you later."
Hye-Ra beamed. "With red wine."
He sighed—long, resigned, but less anxious than before. "At least the Stormbound thing is over."
[SYSTEM]
Temporary statuses cleared. New day begins.
Daily Luck: Neutral (for once).
Min-jae took a measured breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped into the morning light—one catastrophe at a time.